“Do you think Violet would have lied about the set of triplets who hopped her body and tried to take me for a joy ride?” he asks. “As in, she specifically said it wasn’t the creepy little girls who did that to me. Do you think she was being honest?”

I scrub a hand over my face.

“Why the bloody hell would you call me to ask such a thing?” I ask on a long, exhausted breath.

“Because three creepy little girls have been following me around for two days, and I overheard one of the wolf omegas mentioning something along the lines of them dying after they forced Violet into my arms. Where is Violet?”

I cut my eyes to my own ghost stalker.

“Why are you stalking us?” I ask him more seriously.

“Violet requested we keep an eye on you guys. Like I said, she’s worried about you,” he answers too innocently.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t really trust the living, let alone the dead, but I don’t particularly like this newest turn of events. Since when does our girlfriend order ghosts to do her bidding? Why is this okay?” Arion asks.

“Because apparently she’s just making the rules up as she goes along, and we’re supposed to bend over backwards to make it happen,” I grind out.

“Where is Violet?” the vampire demands.

“Damien is claiming her as his Flame, while her mate fucks her from any angle he can find,” I state, admittedly sounding entirely too bitter about that.

“I’m starting to feel like not even I have any clue what’s going on anymore,” Arion confesses.

“That’s because we assumed we had all the answers, so we stopped asking questions,” I state, still eyeing the male ghost, who turns his head to have a seemingly private smile. “However, Violet’s been up to no good, it seems. And a lot of it.”

I turn away from the ghost, pushing out my door, and slowly move around the building.

It’s dark, so there’s not much risk in moving quickly. Which is exactly what I do, without warning, to ditch the ghost.

I hear the wind through the phone, signaling Arion caught onto what I was up to and decided to follow suit.

“I need to hit something,” I tell the vampire as I glance over my shoulder, ensuring I’ve lost my tail.

“Just tell me where to meet you, Van Helsing. But fair’s fair. I plan on hitting you too.”

“Only if you’re good enough, Vampyre,” I state as I hang up and text him the address I’m heading toward.

Fucking dead ghosts asking random questions.

An unkillable girlfriend with a death wish.

Idun TV.

Floggings against our girlfriend.

New laws we absently passed.

A mated Wolf.

A Flamed Morpheous.

An angry Vampyre and Van Helsing.

A breeze of air is all I feel, before Arion is suddenly in front of me, his body as visibly tense as my own.

“I’m on a short leash,” he tells me like I’m not already aware. “She’s one step from having my balls completely in her purse, and they’ll be there next Tuesday at this rate.”

I have no idea why I almost smile.

He narrows his eyes when I struggle with the surprise reaction.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask very seriously.

Well, mostly seriously.

“I’m Arion Vampyre,” he tells me. “I’m perfectly okay with sacrificing some of my finest pleasures for the sake of Violet’s happiness. But I’ve accommodated her far more than I ever did Idun with all this nitpicky nonsense.”

“Are you seriously not understanding why you, an ancient, soulless vampire can’t get perfectly along with a modern-day martyr, who found being a gypsy the most fun and exciting thing that ever happened to her—are you fucking kidding me?—until the day her monster awoke and turned her birthday party into a massacre?” I ask, needing clarification on just how blind he is to the glaringly obvious.

He gestures toward me. “You’re giving me that look that suggests you think I’m being deliberately obtuse.”

“Not deliberately, but stupidly,” I state in correction.

He gives me an annoyed look.

“I’m Arion Vampyre,” he says again. “Not even Idun fucked with my reputation.”

“Says the vampire gushing over an infant he’s basically lay claim to,” I snort, arching an eyebrow at him.

He stabs a finger at me. “That has nothing at all to do with this argument.”

“I’m pointing out you lose scare factor when you find spit-up something worthy of boasting on the lad.”

His eyes turn to angry slits.

“Take a swing. Let’s do this.”

“No,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ve lost my ire. You ruined it. Tell me what the triplets were asking.”

“They wanted to know ridiculous random things. Such as why I haven’t bothered learning to drive a car. As if it’s any business of a ghost.”

“Couldn’t confess how hard it is for you to learn new things?” I ask, smirking in his direction.

His eyes turn red, and I take a step back. Seriously? He’s this easy to provoke right now?

“And they asked if I fed from any women,” he carries on, bristling. “They wanted to know just how faithful I’d been with Idun. They even wanted to know if I ever found Shera to be a temptation. Clearly, I didn’t acknowledge them. They forced their way into her body, royally fucked my head right the hell up for a bit, and…died. They died. Then she lied, and no one is bothering to explain to us why we suddenly can’t ask any questions.”

He taps his foot and puts both his hands on his waist as he gives me a pointed look.

“You’re the Van Helsing. Do something about our very unreasonable girlfriend’s resistance to answer the many important questions surrounding her.”

“You just don’t want to piss her off,” I say in an accusatory tone.

“You’re Vancetto Van Helsing. I’m Arion Vampyre. Out of the two of us, who is better when it comes to talking to a woman?” he asks very…reasonably. “I clearly pushed all the wrong buttons the last time I tried to rein her in a bit. She was flogged by Idun moments after.”

Fair point.

He pissed her right the hell off, and she’s still likely holding it against him. I’ve yet to discover a way to gain her attention for more than a few stolen glances and placating touches.

“I take it back,” I say, jaw grinding as I dread pissing off Violet. “I do want to hit something.”

In the next instant, my fist collides with his jaw so hard and so quick that he can’t do anything but take the hit and stumble back. His eyes move from red to black, and he grins at me.

He doesn’t give any warning before my feet are knocked out from under me, and a grunt passes through my lips when I collapse to the ground.

It’s sweet reward when I manage to land another solid punch to his side, on my feet and charging before he finishes his moment of gloating.

He stumbles back, I sway on my feet, and we both grin.

Then, we lunge for each other, ready to beat the living shit out of one of another until we feel better about our challenging lives, at the moment.