“And?” I prompt.

His eyes narrow. “And? And?! I say she can’t die, and you say and? Isn’t it obvious? A woman who can’t die shows up here, in our town, somehow raises Arion, but conveniently Arion keeps her from talking about it. We all go a little crazy trying to get close to inspect her, and end up being in bed with her.”

“I was in a casket with her—certainly not the same as a bed,” I point out.

“The point is, Arion has been pushing her on us, and though he’s crazy, we still should have seen it. Arion’s never once strayed from Idun. Now, she’s with you and you killed all those wolves like you’re some sort of true alpha again. The innocent Violet, who should be traumatized, shows up at the sight of the melee in no shoes. No jacket. No—”

“Get to the point and quit trying to make it in the abstract,” I grind out.

“She’s Idun,” he says with no more preamble. “That bitch found a way to die, and she’s come back as—”

“She’s not Idun,” I say dismissively, deciding we’re certainly not on the same track.

“Yes, she is. There’s no other way she could have intricately woven herself into our lives in the maddening way she has—”

“She’s not Idun,” I say again.

“You didn’t see that ludicrous show she and Arion put on in front of me—the one where she pretends not to know about Idun right after having sex with me and giving it away.”

“She’s not Idun,” I argue…again.

“Then how did she live through sex with me?”

“Because she can’t die,” I say like that part is obvious.

“Like Idun,” he growls. “Only the Neopry line can do that.”

“Not like Idun,” I say as I lift the stack of papers.

“You really think Idun isn’t capable of—”

“I don’t know or care what Idun is capable of. All I know is that without a doubt, January Violet Carmine is not Idun.”

“How do you know this?” he asks as I stand. “We should check her hidden orchard for apples to go along with those oranges.”

My lips twitch. “Funny you should mention that…”

I get up, stepping through the door, gesturing for him to stay, and I hurry through the house, past the omegas who are playing some video game in their old room, and head to where Violet is lounging in the room behind theirs, not unpacking yet.

Her eyes find mine, and she stands quickly.

“They said you wanted me to bring some clothes and—”

“Did you bring apples?” I muse as I prop up.

“I brought a few. Mom said people always prefer Portocale oranges,” she tells me as she goes to grab a small box that’s wrapped.

The smell of them is so subtle that the box almost snuffs it out completely.

“Emit, we need to talk about what—”

“We’re going to. I just need to get rid of Damien first,” I say as I glance around. “But you’re safe here, Violet. Wolves are easily amendable creatures with the right motivation. But now I see that times are a little more stressful on the young than on the old, and I’ve been lax.”

She looks confused, but I really do need to get rid of Damien.

“When I return, we’re going to have a long conversation about Portocale gypsies and the dark, tangled past we share with them.”

She moves a little closer as she lowers herself to the bed, eyes a little wide.

“It’s not going to be a fun story to tell, but—”

A sharp pain shoots through my skull, dizzying me for a moment as I stumble a step. When the next searing pain hits, I try to warn her, but can’t.

The last thing I hear is her screaming for the omegas as my neck breaks for the first time.

Chapter 29

DAMIEN

Violet’s shrill scream has me standing and calmly moving through the house. She’s here? Why the hell didn’t he tell me she was here?

My nose is clogged by all the wolf scents mucking the place up.

Emit’s cry of pain has me blurring past the omegas as they scramble around, doing I don’t know what.

Violet is on a bed, trying to help two of the omegas drag him up to it, as my eyes land on Emit’s solid white, vacant gaze.

I help them drag him onto the bed, eyes narrowing on Violet, assessing her every panicked, frightened move.

“What’s happening to him?” she shouts at me when a lash lands across Emit’s chest and he cries out in pain.

“A Portocale gypsy just died. I’ll be down soon as well. Emit’s almost always first,” I say, wondering if she’s going to eventually slip and give herself away.

Kudos to Idun for keeping this charade going this long. She hasn’t been this patient since she made us fall in love with four different women who all turned out to be her.

“Doesn’t this last for like a week or something?” Violet asks, her gaze swinging over to mine with tears there, when Emit cries out again.

Another lash lands on his chest.

The emotion in her tone has me glancing at Emit, who seemed adamant she wasn’t Idun and got up to presumably show me proof…before hitting the ground.

“Or something,” I say distractedly, sniffing the air and finding something vaguely familiar subtly tinging it, prompting me to look around.

“If you’re just going to stand there like it’s no big deal, get out!” Violet shouts at me, as an omega rushes to her side, already dabbing Emit’s wounds with a wet cloth.

“Emit gets petted when he’s suffering. I’ll be alone in my room,” I tell her, while on the hunt for this bizarrely familiar scent I simply can’t place.

It’s driving me mad and forcing me to sniff around the room.

“I’m starting to realize that’s more of a preference of yours,” Violet says a little harshly.

I give her a cold smirk that she doesn’t notice, because she’s busy saying soothing things to Emit like he’s not catatonic and stuck in hell—dying every Portocale gypsy death and getting a lash of punishment at the end.

How has Idun faked that Portocale blood? I don’t put anything past that bitch. Emit underestimates her.

The next lash slices across his chest, and blood spills from the wound; however, I quickly get distracted.

A medium sized box with a ribbon has been dropped, and a hint of green is peeking out when I track that scent to its origins.

Holding it together to keep anything from spilling, I turn the box upright and peel the lid off. My eyes land on green apples, and forgotten memories flutter through my mind with that old gypsy song.

My stomach twists with knots as I sniff the apples, lost to the memories as I take a small bite just to be sure.

The smell is always subtle, but the tart bite that turns into the very familiar sweet taste…it was always an underappreciated treat.

One thing is certain; these are definitely not Idun’s red apples.

My gaze darts to Violet as she continues fussing over Emit, her touch soft and concerned. Idun couldn’t grow green apples…

Turning my attention back to the delicacy I never expected to see again, I get a little queasy.

It’s all a confusing mess, but it’s enough to piece together the puzzle Emit was trying to solve for me.

“Are you really eating his apples right now? I brought those for him, and I don’t have many. Please stop. He may want them when he wakes up,” Violet says in a soft, broken tone as she helplessly sits at his side.

I watch her as I put down the other apples, and she cuts her tear-streaked eyes away from me as she continues fussing over the wolf.

Staring down at the green apple in my hand, I get a little sicker.

I need to go buy some fucking roses. Right now.

My gaze flicks back to Violet once more, and holds there, wondering how the fucking hell it’s possible.

I start thinking back to the way those bodies were ripped apart…

That wasn’t Emit’s wolf. Emit wasn’t covering for Idun. The Portocale blood is real? The oranges are real? The apples are real? But how?

Impossible pieces begin to align, taking over my Idun conspiracy theory, as a new one surges forth.

I walk out of the house, lifting my phone and taking another bite of the apple I stole.

“Hello?”

“Chris, this is Damien, and—”

“Who?”

I sigh, finding some of my curses more tedious than others during moments like this. “Check your notes. You work for me. The name Morpheous is a large part of your income.”

I take another bite of the apple as the clicking of keys on a computer tell me he’s doing what I’ve asked.

“Oh, right. The one no one remembers.”

“I need you to find out all you can about Violet Carmine’s family tree on her—”

“That I remember,” he says proudly. “But it dead ends. It doesn’t tie into the tree you wanted it to,” he goes on.

“Yeah, well, I’m more interested in the tree on her father’s side now. Track it back as far as you possibly can,” I tell him as I glance over my shoulder.

“O…kay. He a gypsy too?”

“No. He’s not,” I say with certainty as I hang up. “But he may have gypsy blood in him,” I add to myself. “Which changes absolutely everything.”

I dial the next number on my list, and a pleasant woman answers.

“I’d like to buy every rose in your store,” I tell the woman who remains silent, as though she’s stunned. “And if you have any apologetic balloons, I’ll buy those too,” I tell her as I scrub a hand over my face. “Better make it every single flower in your store. I have a lot more to apologize for than I can say with just roses. I don’t want her as frigid with me as she is with Vance. Personally, I still think he’s the bigger ass out of the two of us, but I still should apologize properly.”

“I’m sorry?” she says.

“Yes. That’s what I want every single card to say,” I tell her.

“This is all very confusing,” she says quietly, more to herself than me.

Staring at the partially eaten green apple in my hand, I tell her, “You have no idea.”

Chapter 30

ARION

I watch as Damien flees Emit’s house like a thief in the night, glancing over his shoulder. He tucks something into his pocket that I can’t see or scent, due to the atrocious stench of wolf all over the damn place.

After I’m certain he’s gone, I make my way to the kitchen window, where I spot Violet filling up a pan of water. My dark smile forms.

She’s in Emit’s house, after I told the lovely thing to get closer to the wolf. She only pretends to fight me, while doing exactly as I ask her to.

One can only assume she’s on board with my plan for us.

“Don’t worry, sweet gypsy. You’ll do fine,” I tell the girl who looks dreadfully worried.