Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,52

know how to react or feel right now, aside from a little queasy and mildly freaked out.

My feet tangle under me, and I struggle to stay upright. My body feels heavy, and every action I have is sluggish, as I struggle to walk on the ground that is damn near blanketed by bodies.

The scent is what staggers me. I wasn’t expecting my senses to be so sharp in here. The blood is ripe, and it’s still freshly oozing from the massacre that stretches on and on for as far as the eye can see.

I turn, nearly falling over a corpse with eyes frozen wide, when I hear voices behind me.

Idun shouts something in a language I can’t distinguish, as Emit barely shoves himself up from the ground, managing to make it as far as leaning up on his knees.

His hair is much longer here, and plaited in braids that are tied down his bare, marred back. Deep gashes are all over his body, and it seems to be taking all his strength to even stay conscious.

I’m sprinting to his side before I even realize what I’m doing, stumbling over the dead, but no one sees me. My hand touches his skin, but there’s no reaction from him, as tears fill up in my eyes.

An ache fills up in my already heavy chest, the two working against me in unison.

Turning to glare at Idun, my blood starts boiling in my veins, and my hands shake with the rage I’m barely containing.

I watch as Arion licks blood off his fingers, smiling with a drizzle of it running down his lips.

She gestures to the bodies, calling out something again.

Glancing around me, taking in the sheer volume of bodies, I’m guessing this was a bad bloodline massacre. The omega wolves have talked a lot about these. The gruesome picture they painted is very vividly displayed here.

“One bad bloodline can turn thousands in days, and all bad bloods have to die, before the world is left in ruins,” I murmur, remembering Tiara’s exact words.

Ingrid is a bad bloodline. This is why she hides in the walls and never comes into contact with humans.

One scratch.

That’s all it takes.

Arion picks up a violin, and smiles as he starts playing an upbeat melody, while dancing over some of the dead wolves, laughing as though he’s enjoying himself.

He’s dressed in thin, black armor that moves too freely for what has to have been a really long time ago.

Damien is dressed in the exact same armor, helmet haphazardly cast aside, as he puffs something in a pipe, seemingly unconcerned with anything going on around him.

His eyes are flat, lifeless, and devoid of any sort of emotion at all, as he glances into a mirror. His hair is short along the sides, with a long ponytail in the back. It’s weirdly a good look for him.

Not exactly the sort of thing one focuses on in a moment like this, but the Damien I know just sort of married me. I think. My head’s a bit scattered.

Just then, Vance emerges, and my heartbeat kicks in my chest, because I very abruptly remember this is all their past, and I’m not here to pick through it. I’m here to set him free.

It’s not until this very moment, when I glance down to ensure I’m in my un-sexy underwear, that…I realize I’m not in my underwear at all. This is not how I was supposed to be dressed.

“Why the fuck do I look like I raided Shera’s closet?” I demand to a bunch of memories who can’t hear me, while staring in horror at the tight leather outfit I’m in.

No wonder I feel sluggish. This thing is so damn constricting that it’s ridiculous. And it’s a jumpsuit! I think that’s what they’re called.

I hurriedly check to ensure that there’s no embarrassing—

Oh fuck my life. I have a camel toe problem. I have a leather jumpsuit camel toe problem.

I’m not the sort of girl who can rock the toe with confidence.

This just got mortifying.

Quickly, I start unzipping it, only to realize, I’m not wearing any underwear.

“Damien Morpheous, I’m going to knee you in the balls when I get out of here!” I tell the memory of Damien, who doesn’t even glance my way.

He leans over, searching a dead man’s pockets, and pulls out a few coins he shoves in his own pocket. Then he stands, and starts going from body to body, absently searching them all for money, presumably.

I shake my head from the distraction,