Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters, #2)

by Kristy Cunning

It’s a gift I can never possibly repay, so instead, I hope you take a minute to do things just for you. No matter the consequences. No matter the cost. Do things just because it makes you happy, and to hell with everyone else for just a minute. Then maybe, just perhaps, I can feel like I’ve given you the only thing I had that was better than you. Because you’re a soft bitch like that, just so you know. Deuces, my favorite-ever person. Hate you always and forever, Anna.

He narrows his eyes. “If you think she’s deliberately fucking with us, why are you in a hurry to get over there?” I grin. “Because I positively love that in a woman.”

“It can wait. I’m sure he’s calling to warn me about something that has already been sort of resolved.” Ah, she’s talking about me. To her father. I knew she secretly liked me. Women these days only tell their fathers about the men they’re seriously considering, after all.

I feel Arion’s grin against my neck as he places a small kiss there. Gently, he lowers me to my feet and pats me on the ass like I’m a good girl.

“Maybe monsters should just use Facebook instead of bullying people into weird, suspicious friendships that don’t sound optional,” I mutter petulantly. I swear I hear her snort.

“How much do you watch me?” “What else am I going to do with my time?” he asks me on an exasperated sigh. “Every time I look away, you’re disappearing for days, killing vampires, or shagging Vance in my bedroom.”

He pauses, stopping the orange at his lips, as he arches an eyebrow at me. “I’m trying to be your dirty, kinky rebound from the boring, drab Van Helsing. I’m not trying to be your gay best friend. My answer is that he’s not worth it, but I am,” he says with a completely serious expression.

Why do I feel bad about leaving him behind? I liked it better when I just wanted to key his car to feel good. He’s like Anna. Once they’re in your life, you just adapt to their creepy ways and start to find the weird charm in them. Damn him for making me miss her, and damn him for worming his way into the part of my mind that makes me worry about him.

My thoughts immediately turn back to Violet when she weirdly sticks her rear way out, and starts…I’m not really sure what she’s doing. Is she hopping? No, she’s moving to a rhythm of some sort, but certainly not the music. Never mind; there’s no rhythm at all. Just random writhing that has me cringing, even as I smile at the absurdity of whatever it is she mistakenly thinks she’s doing out there.

He immediately bends down so quick that I startle, and his lips brush mine so softly, before he moves up to my ear to whisper, “Save me for last, sweet gypsy. I fall the hardest.”

“Is the party my gift?” I ask on a small smile as my arms twine a little tighter around his neck, my body relaxing as his arms get tighter on my waist. “Well, I have two gift options,” he says, moving me around on the dance floor. “The first is a traditionally wrapped, very appropriate gift. It’s in my bedroom. The second is a completely unwrapped and entirely inappropriate gift,” he says, adding the last part jokingly. “Also in my bedroom.”

“Then let me explain rule number one. It’s simple, really,” he says, his lips brushing over mine as his hand runs up my hip. “Don’t fucking die.”

Another crack and groan go hand in hand, seconds before something loud bursts somewhere overhead. I jolt when a chunk of the wall slams into the side of the bed, but before I can scramble away, a firm, strong hand grabs my hip. I’m roughly yanked against him seconds before we’re spinning. The roomful of mirrors look like a blur of motion as my world is turned around and tossed in a different direction. He comes down on me hard, his hips almost painfully forcing my legs wider apart, as he continues to kiss me stupid, filling my mind with more and more images of us, his eyes wide open as he breaks the kiss and stares down at me.