Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,1

I don’t trust you with this information. You’re too young, impatient, headstrong, and stubborn. For now, why don’t you tell me how you can stand four of the worst monsters alive touching you without recoiling?” she growls. “Since we’re pulling pins out of things.”

“Maybe because my mother left me super desensitized to everything, since she wanted me open-minded enough to one day forgive her for the fact she’s been a pretty ruthless monster. Also, I’m sure you wanted me to forgive myself, fairly easily, for the lives I took during my panics. I really enjoyed killing that one time, back when I apparently scared you—the night I lost my head. I’m not appalled too easily. Sad, but true.”

My elbows prop up on the counter, and I gauge my mother’s reaction to that confession. There’s no fear in her eyes.

Did I only imagine it in the past because I assumed she feared me?

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

She snorts, and then she doubles over with laughter. “Why on earth would I fear you?”

“Because I’m a really powerful and scary monster!” I gripe. “I’ve lived with that as a burden, and you’re laughing, yet have the audacity to call me insensitive!” I say, my voice growing louder and louder.

She laughs twice as hard.

My mother is a huge asshole.

She sighs as her laughter tapers off, and she looks over at me, smiling almost sadly.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re a powerful, scary monster. Tell me, how silly do you feel knowing what you really are?” she muses.

I bristle, because now that I think about it, I do feel sort of silly. I’ve been terrified…of a monster everyone else mocks as weak.

It’s a bit surreal.

“I really am soft by comparison to all of you, aren’t I?” I mumble, starting to feel sillier, now that I realize they patronize the hell out of me.

“You’ll never have an ounce of respect from the four of them,” she says softly. “They only respect strength. They’ll coddle you, placate you, and treat you like a glass doll. I know better than to think that’s the way you want to be treated. They’re not going to let you be you, Violet. They’re going to treat you like a woman who needs soft gloves and gentle care.”

“Are you saying they’re out of my league in the monster realm?”

“I’m saying you’re in a different league altogether. A good beta, who respects and enjoys being a beta, will be the perfect male for a girl like you. Someone on equal footing, and someone who can appreciate your softer attributes, without seeing them as weaknesses,” she supplies, speaking like this is great wisdom.

I narrow my eyes on her. “You spent years begging me to be a dirty slut, and now that I finally am, you’re trying to make me single.”

She narrows her eyes back on mine.

“Do you know what I would have given to have been raised in an era where you can swipe right to go spread your legs with a pretty boy, without having to deal with all their gushing emotions, back when hard men could only show their soft sides to a woman in the sack?” she gripes.

“You really are a bitch, aren’t you?” I ask her very seriously.

“No, I’m a monster. I’ve lived for too many centuries to even keep up with the numbers anymore. I’ve lived through fire and ice hells. I’ve watched the world constantly change its mind about right or wrong. I’ve watched egos bounce back and forth, to the point where nuclear war is threatened because of an insulting mouth or two. I’m a jaded, hardened, seasoned monster, who knows more about war than any soldier in any human army. Just like all of them,” she says, her eyes staying fixed to mine.

She reaches out, taking my hand in hers, and gives me a pitying look.

“You’re twenty-six years old. Four jaded, hardened, seasoned monsters, who’ve lived through countless heartbreaks and vicious wars are not the sort of men who are going to care too much about your feelings, dear. Either you’ll have to settle, or they’ll have to change everything about themselves to accompany your demands. You decide what love is for yourself, and then make your decision.”

This conversation started with me having her on the ropes. It’s ended with me on the ropes instead.

She’s not telling me a whole lot, because she’s sure deflecting damn hard.

Instead of saying anything, I give her the final word, and she leaves, likely feeling satisfied.

A ghost I’ve not