Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,5

bigger bang than Arion did, at this rate. Violet won some hearts with her show of self-sacrifice and unwavering loyalty to protecting Sanctuary, but Idun wins every time when she incites the violent and vindictive.

“Is it just me, or are there a lot more shifter scents in town today than we’ve smelled in too many centuries to count?” Emit asks very quietly, his eyes scanning the larger crowd during the summer off-season.

“My nose aches from all their stenches, because it’s been centuries since I had to smell so many at once,” I state in agreement.

“My nose aches from your obnoxious, ten-thousand-dollar cologne,” the uncultured wolf says, smelling like fur and sex.

He’s not showing an ounce of shame about it either. This is who Violet chose above me? Above me?

I’m still in trouble, and the wolf is mated to her already. Unbelievable.

“Hurry up, Morpheous. We certainly don’t want to risk sacrificing omegas for an archaic law Idun is using against us,” I gripe toward the deviant, my incessant twitches increasing with each passing second, as the weight on my shoulders seems to double.

What the hell is going on? What’s bothering me so much?

“Is a hunt calling for you, Van Helsing?” Damien muses, idly glancing down at the mirror he pulls from his pocket—the one Violet gifted him.

It really is the most extraordinary piece I’ve ever seen. The craftsmanship is of the finest in detail, and the mirror is still flawless, in spite of its age.

She had that just lying around?

Maybe I’m now overthinking everything, but since the niggling theory about Pandora inserting Violet to snag Idun’s attention away from the Simpletons, I can’t stop thinking about every single detail that’s made Violet very easily slide into all four of our lives. We overlooked how effortless it was to fall into step around her, because she somehow managed to become all our favorite things without even meaning to.

“I’m not really certain what has me riled,” I admit, glancing around again. “I’ll figure it out once we deal with this bullshit charade. It’ll take less than five minutes to lay this to rest. It’s just a tactic to get under our skin.”

“Are you trying to convince us of this or yourself?” Damien asks, but he seems distracted by the very antsy wolf.

“Is it really that unbearable for you to be away from her even this long?” Arion asks the wolf, as though he’s truly fascinated by the concept.

“No. I’ve had a good fill of her and should be fine. I’m not sure why I’m so desperate to return,” Emit confesses, staring uneasily back toward Sanctuary.

I don’t know why he’s staring back. It’s not as though you can see anything but the tall bells from this part of town.

“Maybe we should have told Violet about this,” Emit says as he starts back toward Sanctuary.

I grab him at the elbow.

“Don’t be a fool. Idun wants to return to settling disputes among Houses by having betas duke it out in combat trials. Demetria is an uncontested champion among all betas, which is why we put this law to bed when we buried Idun. We need to deal with this like alphas, instead of acting like boyfriends who wish to please their very soft girlfriend, and Violet will make that impossible,” I remind him. “Wait until it’s settled and we know what concessions we’re making before we discuss things with her.”

Emit runs a hand through his long hair, seeming reluctant to do his job.

“If being her mate is going to affect running your House, you’ll bring more trouble on her than you already have,” Arion tells him very seriously. “And I’m afraid that’s going to reignite my burning hatred for wolves, if that becomes an issue. Friendly warning, pup.”

Emit cuts a glare toward him, and Damien steps between the both of them, rolling his eyes.

“The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all return to Violet. Get into a pissing contest, and we’ll be right back in trouble. You fucks go messing with my chances of returning to her good graces when I’m making so much progress, and I’ll leave you both impotent for a bloody year,” he threatens, smiling humorlessly at them. “After I feed a good bit and get that much power, that is.”

He nods once, claps his hands together as though he’s effectively solved the tension between everyone, and starts marching toward the Van Helsing rings.

“Even I feel the nearly uncontrollable urge to return her. Probably because I’m more desperate than