She reaches back, her nails curling on Emit’s arm, as she cries out her orgasm, using the wolf’s name. His jaw clenches, and that predator emerges in him with his smirk, since Damien has already started fucking with his head by now.

You can’t be connected to sex in the room with Damien without him having easy access to your mind.

They should take better fucking care of her body. Damien grips her by the hair, and in the next instant, her mouth is descending on him like she’s eager to please.

I genuinely hate him more than he’s ever hated me. In this moment, if I could be Damien Morpheous, I would trade places.

“You’re jealous as hell right now,” the infernal stalker ghost says to me.

I shut the door on the sex that starts turning violent, since I want to stab them both and steal her away before they break her. That damn girl acts like she enjoys every second of it. Probably because of the sexual deviant fogging up her mind.

“Since discovering she’s so resilient, they’ve gotten more and more aggressive with her. All of them. And since she’s—”

“The good part about her being twenty-six and born in an era when there’s a sex-positive outlook for women, is the fact you get a girlfriend willing to try anything once. And she’s competing with a woman you all have a lot of history with. She’s trying to impress them. This is as normal as the five of you will ever be. Stop fretting, Van Helsing” he tells me as he follows me down.

I’m not fucking fretting. I’m seething with envy.

Loosening my tie, I shove through the door and climb back into my car.

My new and unshakeable stalker hops in the seat next to me.

“So Arion went under after cars were in existence,” he tells me. “How is it he still hasn’t learned to drive, since he’s so upset about missing out on technology.”

“Planes, trains, and automobiles were all in existence, you twat. Arion, in case you haven’t noticed, loses interest in things too fast when they require actual effort to learn. Why is this something you feel the need to ask right this moment?” I demand.

He shrugs.

“So all his whining about missing out—”

“Is Arion being Arion and trying to make me feel guilty for how much progression he’s behind on. Meanwhile, he’s not even started learning to drive, yet alone fly a plane,” I dutifully point out.

However, he’s making more progress with Violet than I am. I’m driving back to Sanctuary to give more cooking lessons, doing something useful, while two of them are enjoying her like she’s their reward just for living.

“What about all those pictures? Has Idun really been under that long? I mean, some of those looked contemporary, given the dates you’re suggest—”

He stops talking when I cut my eyes to him, and he gives me a charming smile.

“Do you see how Idun dresses now?”

He nods. “Victorian when she’s feeling especially arrogant. She’s dressed more like a twenties’ proper lady when she’s feeling sassy—the ballsy sort of classy who put on a pair of pants. Egyptian influences were spotted in her wardrobe, but—”

“The point is, Idun has always dressed that way. She didn’t follow fashion—she created it,” I say on an irritable breath, but a sigh leaves me, as I pull up to Sanctuary.

In a quieter tone, I confess, “She was always way ahead of her time. The thing that drew me in most about her, after the truth had come out, was how fearlessly she dared to be different, in a world that demanded you blend in for survival. She dressed us the way she wanted us to look. We wanted to stand out just as much as she did. I can’t fault her tastes,” I note, considering she designed me one of my best suits long before suits were the fashion.

I look over at him, finding him studying me, as I run my mouth to a stupid fucking ghost.

“She was very imaginative when it came to living life a different way. Despite the many hardships and sacrifices, she loved life so much she wanted to live for all eternity. Her family were carpenters—our homes and carriages were amazing long before their times. Live long enough, and any fashion eventually has a time period when it’s fashionable. Gypsy fashion was all the rage a few years ago. Don’t get me started on that.”

My mind roams the centuries too freely, visiting places I’ve been too angry to visit for too long.

“Living this long, seeing how far ahead of her time Idun was, and realizing just how unique she was…it made her unbearably hard to deny. I’ve always been drawn to a strong woman who knew what she wanted. Anyway, Idun still dresses the exact same. From one era to the next. She’s always going to look better than any woman in any room, and she knows it.”

He nods like he agrees.

“Violet barely wears makeup, usually forgets to put on her shoes, and often ends up stitched inside whatever tapestry or sheet is closest by,” he notes.

My lips curve in a grin as I look away, rapping my fingers on the steering wheel.

“She’s also very imaginative when it comes to living life a different way, only she does it far differently from Idun. She cares about people, hoards random things, and has some disturbing tastes in collections. She’ll wear a sheet because she doesn’t care about being the prettiest girl in a room. She’s just trying to figure out what’s going on inside the room. She dares to be openly curious, in a world that mocks you for not already having all the answers.”

Feeling some of my jealousy finally deflate, I sit back, scrubbing a hand over my face.

“Despite her hardships and sacrifices, she’d rather save than destroy, because she values another’s life over her own.” My brow furrows, because that doesn’t sit altogether right with me. “However, she’s mentioned before she enjoyed killing. She mentioned it to Emit, I believe. Her opinion changed after meeting the omegas and hearing his input on the matter.”

That plays over in my head, as I run my finger across my lips.

“Do you guys sit around comparing notes on the things she’s told you or something?” the prying twat muses.

Absently, I answer him. “We did more than simply watch Idun’s every move for those five months. We’ve had deep and thoughtful conversations about Violet Carmine, and all her many unique qualities. As well as all her lunacy.”

He smirks.

“Emit’s had the most influence out of all of us, even though he’s had the least amount of time with her. He became her first mate,” I note aloud.

“Damien’s the closest to her because they’ve got the most honesty between them,” the ghost inserts, as though he’s helping me along with this thought process.

“Arion’s the drug she can’t get enough of—the one she’s most desperately drawn to.”

Speaking of the vampiric devil, Arion’s name flashes across the screen of my phone, along with some obnoxious music.

“Do you really have Monster Mash set for your ringtone? Because…that’s oddly quirky for you, Van Helsing. You’re not that fun,” the ghost says with a smartass smirk on his lips.

Ignoring the smug dead man in my car, I answer.

“What is it, Arion? I’m not in the mood for any walks down memory lane today.”