Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)

by Kristy Cunning

She’ll wear a sheet because she doesn’t care about being the prettiest girl in a room. She’s just trying to figure out what’s going on inside the room. She dares to be openly curious, in a world that mocks you for not already having all the answers.”

Fucking dead ghosts asking random questions. An unkillable girlfriend with a death wish. Idun TV. Floggings against our girlfriend. New laws we absently passed. A mated Wolf. A Flamed Morpheous. An angry Vampyre and Van Helsing.

“You’re giving me that look that suggests you think I’m being deliberately obtuse.” “Not deliberately, but stupidly,” I state in correction.

The frustrated vampire bangs on the door. “Hurry it up in there. We’ve got more pressing matters to—” He narrowly dodges a blade that stabs through the door, having been aimed at his forehead. “That’s rude,” Arion states too carelessly. “On another note, this is decidedly his tie-on-the-door move,” he adds, tapping the side of the blade.

Violet shrieks, and I almost go to her, when I hear Anna speaking. “It’s just a cat! You’re embarrassing me too much right now to call you my best friend, you sad, pathetic waste of potential badassery,”

“Fuck’s sake, Violet, where the hell are you?” I snap. “Over here,” she calls, as I push through more of the thick forest. “It seems like every time you answer with that, your voice comes from another direction,” Emit gripes from somewhere across from me. “That’s because I’m lost!” she says, as though that’s somehow an explanation.

Violet is decidedly determined to find out if immortals can still suffer cardiac arrest without some sort of physical catalyst. We’re her guinea pigs.

Our girlfriend is either an extreme masochist or an unintentional sadist—still undecided as to which category to check off.

“I thought tag was supposed to be a little gentler. And hide and seek is pretty scary too,” I confess, swallowing thickly. “Especially since five people have been stabbed.”

“You were just going to land the helicopter and come find me,” I tell him, as I grab the oversized, double-headed axe from the ground. “Yes, well, we’ll be walking home. I wasn’t prepared for a shifter with a bazooka. The world is entirely too fucked up these days,”

“Pull it out. It’s silver. It’ll likely work better against this metal,” I tell him, glancing back to see him staring at me in some mild horror. “Could you at least pretend this is causing a significant amount of pain instead of being nonchalant about it? I have big balls too, but I still cry when I’m stabbed. Wolves are more especially allergic to silver.”

I’m Vancetto fucking Van Helsing. I hunt monsters; I don’t drop to my knees before them. I’m a fucking monster too.

As soon as I’m free, I’m removing his head and finding out if he’s truly immortal or not. Then, if he is, I’ll probably do it again.