Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,13

away a smear of blood from my nose, I watch as Violet timidly peers through the threads, spotting me next to the triplets, who…will be investigated when I’m not fighting back fury and fire.

Dorian will pay.

But for now, Violet needs to see me calm.

Destroy him, the old, familiar, almost-forgotten hiss of my monster whispers inside my mind.

“Easy, sweet monster. It’s really me. This electrical shock zone is a new one on me. But to be honest, I appreciate the fact you have more defenses than I realized,” I tell her.

Her tearstained eyes meet mine, and I see the relief cross through her gaze. Shera is staring on with wider eyes, stumbling closer.

“I-I’m so sorry. I still don’t know what happened. What happened?” the trembling, shell-shocked vampire asks her.

“Shera, go get her some water,” I say as the threads take their time unraveling.

Dorian couldn’t break her threads. It doesn’t look like he even managed to fray them.

My breath slowly eases into my lungs with that bit of comfort, but the relief is fleeting. As the threads finish falling away, I take in more damage than I was prepared to see.

Her throat is bruised with fingerprints, and her body is striped with welts, proof of internal and external torture. My jaw grinds, and I feel my monster working hard to surge forth.

Her face is stained by so many tears that it’s almost unbearable to look upon right now. And her shirt is ripped open, as though things had started to progress before she managed to seal herself away.

She grimaces as she sits up, and the last of the sparks finally disappear. Only a few minor shocks strike me as I stalk through the room. In one motion, I stoop, lift her from the floor, and cradle her to me. I bury my nose in her hair, as her body sags with exhaustion against mine.

“Violet,” I say on a broken whisper, holding her closer. “Did he—”

“No. No,” she assures me, shaking her head. “Nothing happened or got too close to happening. I was able to shut him down. Anna surprised him and distracted him long enough for me to get—”

I don’t let her finish, because I’m too busy holding her closer, crushing her tired body to mine. Subtle rage begins to simmer in my veins, gradually pressing closer to the surface until the room’s temperature begins to slowly rise.

I feel my monster fighting to seize control and claim her, leave my mark imprinted so deep on her that she never has to fear attacks like this ever again.

“I’m okay, Damien. I swear,” she says, her arms winding around my neck as she hugs me.

“Don’t comfort me, Violet. That’s my job right now,” I remind her, exhaling harshly, as I stare across at the broken mirrors and bent pieces of steel.

“H-how did you do this?” Shera asks on a hushed breath, possibly seeing a taste of Violet’s power for the first time.

“Simpletons and electricity. You know,” Violet tells her dismissively, hugging me closer when I drop to the ground, still clinging to her like I need the assurance she’s in one, untouched piece.

She stays in my lap, not elaborating on that bullshit excuse for an answer to Shera.

Gypsies and salt, she says.

Simpletons and electricity, she says.

“Shera, give us some privacy,” I say without looking back, hearing her walk away without argument.

The ghosts all vanish from the room with her.

“How did you know his weakness?” I ask her.

“Another voice told me what to do,” she confesses quietly.

Another voice, she says.

She says these things like they’re supposed to make sense and we’re supposed to simply accept it as the only answer available.

Could her monster have spoken to her? No, how would her monster know Dorian’s weakness?

Maybe one of her spying ghosts figured it out?

My anger is too consuming for me to be rational, and I don’t even think before my lips are on hers, kissing her, despite what she’s faced today, because I’m a selfish man who needs her touch too much right now. She doesn’t deny me, but there’s no heat in her kiss.

I quickly break my mouth away from hers, remembering the frozen images of me in the shattered mirrors of her mind.

“He used my face while torturing you?” I ask quietly, belying the growing fury inside my veins. “You’ll never be able to see me without thinking about him again.”

My teeth clench, and my eyes flutter shut.

“I’ll be fine, Damien. Considering the fact I’ve dealt with a lethal cult my entire life, I’m