“I’ve got a few hours of work to do.”

“I’ll nap over here, and you wake me when you’re through,” he says, heading toward my library/brewing room/temporary office’s sofa.

After he pulls out a small pouch that he starts shaking out. It shakes out a whole lot. All of that was in that small, vacuum-sealed baggy? Is that a sheet?

Nooo. It’s a sanitary couch liner he’s carefully applying to my public-access sofa.

He turns and gives me a smirk. “See? I can compromise sometimes without complaint.”

I roll my eyes and hide my smile, and after he removes his jacket…and his tie…and his shirt…and his belt…and his pants…and his undershirt…

His undershirt drops to the couch, and I watch as the beautifully polished man, wearing nothing but the boxer-briefs that were designed to humble women.

“Dat ass, though,” Anna says in a stage-whisper next to my ear.

My eyes bounce up from his ass to turn and glare at her, because he so has super hearing.

When I look back over, Vance is hiding a smug look as he finishes neatly stacking his shirt and shoes onto a plastic bag he’s laid out next to the sofa.

How dirty does he think this place is? I bet it’s even cleaner than his place, because Lemon takes pride in keeping a clean house, and she’s found her new favorite clean freaks who enjoy doing it right alongside her.

“What’s on your mind, Violet?” Vance asks me.

“Lemon and how clean she is,” I inform him, crossing my arms over my chest like I’m not absolutely intimidated by how physically perfect Vance Van Helsing is.

He’s smiling at a lot of odd things today.

“How do I know you’re really Vance and not some creepy trickster?” I decide to ask, just to ensure I’m not accidentally drooling over someone who is fucking with my sight or mind.

I’m developing trust issues as well.

He moves to the fireplace and picks up a rusty fire-poker. Right before my very eyes, shiny, pristine silver races from tip to handle, until it’s fully coated.

“Only a Van Helsing can manipulate metal into silver,” he tells me as he props the fire-poker back on the stand. “Any other questions before I take my nap? Or any requests, Violet?”

He drops down to the sofa, crossing his arms behind his head, and damn near luring me into a false sense of security.

I repeat those words in my head before coming to a conclusion.

Maybe I have more trust issues than I realized.

“Just loan me your vagina. It’ll be worth the pain. I’m tougher than you,” Anna says.

I toss salt over my damn shoulder once again, hoping this time she takes the hint.

Vance keeps that devilish grin on his face, as he lets his eyes shut, looking entirely too naked and comfortable on the sofa he’s too long for.

I have no idea how he manages to look so at ease with his legs extended over the end, but he pulls off the lazy, polished sexy with effortless ease.

“If you’re done being the creepy chick who watches their ex-boyfriend sleep, you may want to know Edmond Portocale is here,” Anna says as she pops up right at my side, waggling her eyebrows at me. “To perv or to raise hell? That is the question.”

“I’m not raising hell on Edmond. Mom said it was complicated, so I’m letting her deal with it,” I tell Anna, my eyes not leaving Vance.

My brow furrows when his breathing changes, seeming almost labored with the next breath.

“Have you noticed they always get ready for a fight, but it fizzles out when the chance rolls around? It’s like they’ve lost their fire and their spark over the years, but that’s not really it. They get off on being impervious to things in front of each other. But then they toss their weight around about the weirdest shit. Sans your crazy bitch mother, who flips her extra switch every chance she gets—weird or not,” Anna prattles on.

“Have you noticed that I’m currently ignoring you?” I volley, too distracted by Vance’s weird tension to listen to her anymore.

The Van Helsing’s breath catches in his throat, and I go to kneel at his side. It only takes a minute to realize what’s going on, as all the familiar things settle into place.

Vance is under the Portocale curse, and Damien, the man who can enter unconscious minds like it’s a bedroom, says he’ll be his strongest ever, starting at midnight. As much as I hate another Portocale has died, the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

“Anna, go get Damien. Now,” I tell her.

With a salute, she shouts, “Aye, captain!”

I roll my eyes when she vanishes from the room, but my gaze settles back on Vance.

“Hopefully, Damien has had at least one idea of how to do what I want to do, during the latter half of his eternity that has been filled with boredom and isolation. Fingers crossed, Van Helsing.”

Chapter 12

DAMIEN

“You can’t take Idun, Damien. Don’t be the daft fool we all know you are,” Marta tells me.

“This girl has bumbled her way through staking four vampires, killing a roomful of beta wolves—”

“How could you possibly know about that?” Emit bites out, cutting off Edmond—yes, Edmond.

Edmond showed up a bit ago, to bring up all of Violet’s accomplishments that we seem to be ‘glossing over,’ according to his paranoid, delusional self.

I pointedly ignore Marta’s lack of faith in me.

As if I need that woman’s permission to go fuck some shit up real good.

Edmond cuts his eyes toward Emit.

“Because you just told me. I knew it wasn’t you. You’re savage, but not when it comes to mutinies,” Edmond says on a sneer.

“Fucking idiot,” I state to Emit, as I offer him one of the fancy chocolates from my fancy chocolate box. “You know better than to let a Portocale provoke you that way.”

It’s left over from the champagne and chocolates I had my beta gather for us. He clearly has expensive tastes, and I think I like it.

Emit mutters something under his breath and exhales harshly, while popping a piece of chocolate in his mouth that will hopefully glue his lips shut for a minute. Before he goes and tells more shit.

“Then she goes and breaks curses for two alphas. Turns out, the girl is also immortal, and can’t even die when she fucks Damien Morpheous’s cursed dick.”

“My enchanting and insanely perfect cock is actually not cursed anymore. I’m faithful because I choose to be. Not because I have no other option,” I decide to interject, staring deliberately at Marta…who doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve said anything at all.

Emily—yes, Emily—comes and thieves a piece of chocolate, squatting between our chairs like she’s enjoying the Portocale show with us.

Emily showed up about the same time as Edmond, and she’s been too amused to leave.

We all three stare on, as Edmond rages about Violet.

“Then, on top of all that, she raises a family from a grave she shouldn’t have been able to step foot on. Immediately after, she erects a Sanctuary and has laws passed by fucking alphas to make it operational. All of this happening around a year’s time from start to finish!”