Home > Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(11)

Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(11)
Author: Kristy Cunning

“In your head, I’m sure you were doing excellent,” Damien retorts dryly. “Why is she mad at me? It’s clearly not over the Neopry secret thing. We’ve had plenty of sex since then. You’re welcome, by the way. Apparently, I left the door wide open for you to move back to the top,” he adds sourly, glaring over at Vance.

“She’s been through enough without your invasive prying for one night,” Vance tells all of us.

I stand as they continue arguing, and Arion makes a sound of frustration, before he walks out abruptly.

He’s out of sight by the time I make it out the door, leaving Damien and Vance to argue on their own.

I make it almost to the door before I sit down in a corner instead, readying myself to talk to Vance, as my hand scrubs over my beard, smoothing it as I think.

Three fucking attacks. Three. By wolves.

It’s no surprise I’m by far the last person she wants to talk to.

The soft scent of Violet’s blood hits me, causing my eyes to lift to the stairs she’s descending, her eyes upward, as her lips stay thin, as though she’s overhearing some of the arguing from Vance’s room.

She adjusts the small towel that’s barely covering the things she wants covered, as her damp hair all drapes over one shoulder.

For a second, I forget she has every right to hate me, because all I want to do is throw her over my fucking shoulder like the animal I am and steal her away.

Just as she finishes coming down the stairs, her eyes collide with mine, and she freezes to her spot. With a small huff, she turns and heads toward the kitchen.

I’m sure she’d like her space. It’s the smart move.

“Don’t,” she says like she knows I’m following her, even though I’m damn quiet about it.

Hard to do at my size.

She walks through to the kitchen and opens the fridge, and then bends over enough to give me a small flash of the bottom of her ass.

It’s painfully hard to tear my eyes off it. I blame her for that. Until she bloody went missing, I’d no idea how attached to her I’d gotten. Every ounce of failure being wrung out of me is because of how helpless I felt while she was gone.

“Violet, I realize you’ve been attacked by wolves three times, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again. My protection used to mean more, and I understand that you’re—”

“Clearly they’re not scared of any of you,” she says with a dismissive shrug. “At least not until it’s too late,” she adds, not sounding overly concerned with it.

“There’s no telling what Shera told you during those moments alone when she likely believed she’d die, so I have no idea what to say to make this better right now. But I am going to clean house, Violet. I didn’t realize it was this messy.”

She gives me a confused look.

“You think I’m mad at you because wolves attacked me?” she surmises, rolling her eyes like she’s as frustrated with me as she was with Damien.

Now I feel as bloody confused as Damien.

“Emit, I have no right to judge how any of you do your alpha thing, because I know very little about the world and politics of monsters. It’s a violent world, from what I’ve observed. I’m dealing,” she says in a manner that leads me to believe she’s cross with me for not already realizing that about her. “Now please go. I just want to make a sandwich and hide until Damien is gone. Hopefully, he’ll leave without a broken nose.”

“Just tell me why you’re mad at me,” I say before I can stop myself, because I really can’t think of any other reason—

The searing look she cuts my way doesn’t bode well for me.

“Fine,” she bites out. “You sat across from me and saw how much I wanted to know something—anything—about what I could possibly be, and you said nothing,” she says very seriously.


What is she…

My thought trails off as her meaning clicks into place. Is this retroactive anger?

I open my mouth and then close it. “You didn’t seem mad,” I argue, trying to think of our encounters since.

None have suggested she was harboring any ill feelings about the matter. I considered myself lucky.

“I haven’t had time to be mad, and I also thought I’d give you time to explain yourself—which you never did. It’s one thing after another, and then it’s me trying to set some boundaries, while you let me think I had just one person who truly understood. Then you took that away,” she says quieter, her voice lightly cracking, before she clears her throat and blinks her eyes, looking down at the sandwich supplies she’s been inattentively sorting.

When she feels strong emotion, others are forced to feel it, and right now, I feel as stupid as Vance always tells me I am.

“Violet, I know it looks bad, but I was just—”

“I’m sure you have a long list of reasons why it was better not to tell me…that you haven’t bothered sharing before this moment,” she says with a tight smile, as her gaze lifts to meet mine. “I’ll hear them some other time, Emit. I really am tired.”

One day. I had her one fucking day and fucked it up, realized I fucked up, and then thought it was okay that I fucked up, since she didn’t throw anything at my head or scream at me.

I mocked Damien for treating her like she was Idun, and I’ve been doing the same damn thing. Which makes zero sense, since I’ve never once confused any damn woman for Idun.

When she gives me her back to start making her sandwich, I exhale and turn to leave, shaking my head at my own damn self.

I hear the sound of her walking out not far behind me, but I can’t pick up my jaw and fix this right now, so I just step into the shadows and simply watch her go up the stairs in her quiet, thoughtful sort of way.

Damien is coming down at the same time, and he pauses in front of her, as she huffs out a sound of exasperation.

I watch the ease and familiarity he uses with her when he brushes his hand over her cheek and kisses the top of her head. The surge of envy is unexpected, and I bite back an unbidden growl.

The hell is wrong with me?

Why are my claws extending?

Why is my wolf trying to surface?

“I may not know why you’re mad at me, but I do know we’ll discuss it when you’re not exhausted,” he tells her like it’s a clear warning, and I see the tired relief on her face.

Damn it, now Damien looks more thoughtful than I do.

Another unexplainable growl gets suppressed.

“It’d be easier to bring up the things that cross severe boundaries if all of you wouldn’t exhaust the reasoning for your actions,” she says as she walks by him, not sounding the least bit angry or argumentative, just ready to be done with this for the night.

Damien scrubs a hand over his face, staring forward.

“I don’t know what that means,” he calls up, finally looking behind him.

I watch—the way Damien watches when no one can see him—and hold my silence, not understanding the enigma who has crashed into our lives and completely bewildered the lot of us.

“Violet, throw me a bone here, since you won’t even tell me why you’re mad. Please,” he says, lying to her about not bothering her with it tonight and dropping back down to my level with that action.

My envy flees when I see he’s no more mature about this than I am.

She stops at the top of the stairs and looks down at him like he’s the true tosser she’s been carting around.

“It means you all spend hours, days, even centuries arguing your own individual points, or explaining your way of thinking, but none of you ever simply come up with a sincere apology. You sure as hell never listen to anyone else’s needs. Tonight, I don’t feel like hearing all the reasons and no apology.”

With that, she ducks out of sight from my angle, but Damien watches for another few seconds…before he groans to himself and drops his head back.

“You stood there and listened to all that,” he gripes, glaring over at my corner as I smirk. “Not fair. Now you have an advantage.”

“Not really. I already dug myself in deeper,” I tell him as he jogs down the stairs.

“I apologized about the Idun thing. It was all over the flowers I sent,” he grumbles as he finishes the stairs. “I didn’t try to reason that away.”

“That probably means this is something she’s positive you will try to reason away.”

“But she said never.”

“She said we never give a sincere apology,” I point out with a shrug. “Maybe all those superficial, thoughtless flowers in the house full of sensitive wolf noses seemed to be less of a sincere apology and more like you were just buying your way out of trouble.”

“What’d you do?” he asks, gesturing toward me. “You look less lethal and guiltier again. Clearly you stalked her and questioned her, breaking Vance’s house rules for the night.”

With his hands on his hips and the glare in his eyes, I almost feel like Damien is the one chastising me right now, and it’s fucking with my head.

“I was about to deliver a very sincere apology, sort of, for the wrong thing, it seems. Now I just feel like a jackass. And it’s your fault,” I explain.

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