Gypsy Rising (All the Pretty Monsters, #5)

by Kristy Cunning

“Get cleaned up and go to the movies, or mall, or something. You haven’t spent two hours doing your teenage things like you promised,” she states as she turns and walks away. “Do I really have to?” I call back on a groan. “I almost got it this time.” “You just blew yourself up trying to make shampoo, January.

“Pandora’s box opened. My family flew in on the coattails, and seven new monsters were born. However, that still left hope at the very bottom. We all received a piece, Violet. It was the tricky box-maker’s design. Every monster was both blessed and cursed with hope.”

“That’s the problem,” I say as I hand off the next box, “everyone wants to yell, scream, argue, take inexcusable shots, and bitch about the past. No one wants to just talk. Even now, everyone wants to remain defensive. All of you just want to hold on to the very thing that’s made you miserable all these years, and at this point, you’re just piling onto the fact no one is seeking resolution.”

“Hmm. She almost sounds like she cares about the Simpletons who are going to own their very own beds for the first time ever,” Anna states, words dripping with sarcasm. “I wonder if she poops food since she talks shit.”

“I didn’t even get a honeymoon phase, before the four of you jumped into the old-and-married phase of our life like I’d somehow allow that to become the new normal,” I continue, jaw grinding as I let my gaze flick from prick, to dick, to jackass, to brute.

“Our last serious relationship with a woman we all cared enough about to share…had disputes that were more along the lines of, “You killed fifteen of my people, so I took thirty of yours. Care to try to level the score, Emit? Or do I win this one?” Emit states, his tone almost lifeless.

“I was born to stand in your way, just because I fucking can. And now everyone’s going to know that you’re not my problem. But I just became the only problem you’re allowed to have, because you, the big, scary, all-powerful alpha can’t even make me scream while I’m still just a pup.”

I promised Violet—what we all essentially promised her—was that we are her monsters,” I add so that she understands the seriousness of Vance’s demand. “Now we know what that means,” Emit tells her, as he crouches near the edge, wolf eyes shining.

“I really don’t fucking care about Ighan and Bobo right now,” I cut in and angrily jab my finger at Violet, as she bloody laughs at the wanker’s stupid joke. “I care about what you’ve learned about this developing situation. What sort of action needs to be taken on a scale of one to death?” I ask very seriously.

I’ll blame the post-orgasmic bliss that has almost put me into a coma for the stupid grin that won’t go away. Because I’m still pissed. I think. Stupid, infuriating, male monsters.

I was the only one Idun truly wanted, and I didn’t want her unless she wanted all four of us. It’s my secret that will remain my secret, because I don’t mind if I have to share. It’s less stressful to share, because I have enough responsibility. I can’t be everything she needs all the time, and still fulfill all my many obligations.

In the next instant, there’s an image of sheep jumping over a fence playing in my head. Each of the sheep are numbered, as one by one they bounce in and out of view. “Count them until you fuckers fall asleep,” Damien mumbles.