“I’ll figure something out,” I reply stiffly, shouldering past her.
“How?” Vanessa screams at my back. “Fuck, Vin, how do you expect to save her? The Van Helsings have an army. Sure, you apparently have Dimitri Gray on your side, but is that enough?”
I freeze, one foot in front of the other, as her words ricochet around in my skull. The mere prospect of failing Violet is horrifying. There can’t be a world without her in it, without her spunky attitude, penchant for hot pink and black, and intoxicating laugh.
I’ll protect her with every bit of darkness within my body, every light. With the dichotomy that makes up any person.
Is that enough?
“It has to be,” I whisper. I refuse to believe any other alternative.
THEY DECORATED the cafeteria with streamers and balloons like it’s some sort of child’s birthday party instead of a ball for the world’s most feared monsters. I would snort at the ridiculousness of it all, if I wasn’t in such a dour mood.
Nursing a bottle of beer in the corner of the room, I watch Violet dance between Cal and Barret, her hands waving back and forth in the air. God, that girl is a horrible dancer, but she’s just too fucking cute for me not to watch.
My father stands on the opposite side of the room, a glass of champagne in his hand as his eyes remain fixed on Violet with predatory intensity. He looks as if he’s seconds away from lunging forward, wrapping his hands around her fragile neck, and ripping her head clean off. It’s one of the very few things that can kill a vampire. I should know. I’ve killed more than I care to admit.
More than I want Violet to know.
If she discovers my atrocious past, will she still look at me with love and happiness? Will she still verbally spar with me, each snarky word heading straight to my cock?
“Why do you look so gloom and doom?” Mason queries, leaning against the wall beside me. He languidly smokes a cigarette with one hand while the other holds a bottle of fairy wine. Not just a glass, but the full bottle. I’m beginning to believe my best friend has a tiny drug and alcohol problem, though I don’t have the guts to say anything to his face.
“She’s a hot fucking mess.” I nod towards Violet, who is currently doing the windmill in the middle of the dance floor. She looks like a princess who has been kept in a gilded cage for her entire life and has finally been allowed to join the real world. There’s an innocence to her movements that are entirely unintentional.
How can my parents possibly think that she’s capable of hurting anyone? Is it merely their own prejudice against vampires and monsters in general? Is there something I don’t know?
Violet once captured a fly and set it free—but not before she named it Buttercup and decided to build it a fly home behind her dorm building. The damn bug died days ago, but us guys constantly switch it out with new ones. I’m pretty sure she thinks the fly is magic at this point.
“She’s our hot mess,” Mason counters easily, downing his bottle and tossing it to the side. He wobbles slightly on his feet, his words already slurring, as he drapes an arm over my shoulder. “I think I love her, Vin.”
His innocuous words cause me to grind my teeth together and fist my hands. Unlike me, he’s allowed to say that he loves her. He’s allowed to say whatever the fuck he wants. I’m the only one leashed by my family’s expectations of what is and is not acceptable. And falling in love with Dracula’s daughter? That’s firmly in the latter category. If I’m not killed for my transgressions, they’ll strip me of my title and refuse to allow me to contact anyone in my family ever again, including Vanessa. I’ll be nothing more than a bedtime story hunters tell their kids at night, a reminder of what not to do.
Don’t fall in love with the enemy.
My anger continues to grow and grow in my stomach. It starts as a diminutive ember, barely flickering with life, before that ember turns into an intense fire that blazes red hot. I can feel it swirling, a tornado of flames, demanding to be set loose.
“How can you love her?” I ask bitterly, taking another sip of my drink. Unlike Mason, I’m not entirely wasted, but a light buzz is coursing through my veins. “I saw the book.”
“The book?” Mason steps away from me—practically tripping over his two feet—and raises a single brow. “What the-the hell are you-you talking about?”
“The book about destroying a mate bond, you fucking prick,” I seethe, towering over him. Mason isn’t short by any means, but compared to me, he’s nothing more than an insignificant, pesky bug. “To sever the bond…and kill Violet in the process.”
Mason’s eyes cloud over in confusion before understanding dawns. That is quickly replaced by anger and hurt. He takes a wobbly step towards me and points a finger at my chest.
“That was a-a gift from my-my mother,” he slurs, his rancid breath wafting across my face. I shove at his shoulders to make him take a step back, and he falls on his ass. He continues speaking as if he doesn’t notice his new position on the floor. “If you think for one second I would do anything to hurt Violet, then you don’t know me at all.”
“Guys, what’s going on over here?” the vampire in question asks warily. Loose tendrils of golden hair stick to her cheeks as she volleys her wide-eyed stare between Mason and me.
“Nothing,” I bite out at the same time Mason says, “Just Vin being a fucking prick.”
Violet offers a hand to him, but he ignores it, hobbling to
