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 his feet and leveling me with a glare capable of curdling milk.
“Go fuck yourself,” he hisses.
“Mase…” Violet pleads, but he’s already storming away, surprisingly steady despite how unstable he was just a moment earlier. Turning towards me, Violet places her hands on her hips. “What the fuck was that about?”
“Nothing,” I say dismissively. “Go back to the others.”
I can see Frankie and Jack eyeing me cautiously. Still on the dance floor, Barret and Cal have stopped dancing and are staring at me just as intently. Testing me, perhaps? Testing my loyalty? Why am I suddenly overthinking this?
Cursing, I pound a fist against my head, and Violet’s eyes immediately widen in alarm.
“Vin?” She takes a step towards me, but I automatically step back. She can’t touch me, not here, not where my father can see her. The Van Helsings have eyes and ears everywhere. Nowhere is safe from their gossiping maws.
Without bothering to respond—and ignoring the crestfallen expression on her face—I turn on my heel and walk swiftly out of the cafeteria. It’s only when I’m outside, eagerly taking in lungfuls of fresh air, do I break into a run.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
“Vin, dammit!” Violet screams. “Get back here! I’m not in the fucking mood to—” There’s a loud thump followed by a muffled curse. And then, “I’m okay!”
I make it to my house in record speed, grabbing my key from my pocket and opening the front door. Before I can close it, Violet sticks her foot in the frame, expression positively livid. I can’t help but snort at the dirt smeared on her cheeks and the twig in her hair. It looks as if she’s partaken in a fierce battle with a fucking forest…and lost.
“You don’t get to run from me,” she huffs, shoving the door open even further with her vampire strength. “Not again. You fucking promised.”
“I promise a lot of things,” I murmur, finally stepping away and allowing her entry. I feel unnaturally tired. My eyelids droop as I unknot my tie and allow it to sit over my shoulders. “Just…just go away.”
“No,” she replies stubbornly. Of fucking course. Because things can’t be easy with her, right?
We’re gasoline and fire. Every time we clash, an explosion is left in our wake. This type of relationship can’t be healthy, but it’s the only type I’ve ever known. It’s the only type I want.
If she’s fire, I’ll happily burn for just a moment in her presence.
“No?” I quirk a brow as I slide off my jacket, draping it over the back of my armchair.
“No,” she repeats. Shouldering past me, she sits on the edge of the fading brown leather seat, her hands clasped primly together in her lap. “You’re hurting, Vin. I’m not stupid. I know it has something to do with your parents. Did they find out about me and you? Did they threaten you?” Her eyes flash in the ambient silver glow of the moon from the open window. It’s the only light currently on in the house, the only light I feel comfortable in.