Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

T atyana closed the door to her room in Oleg’s house, set all three locks, and pressed her back to the door before she slid down to the floor, her knees giving out under the storm happening in her mind and body.

What have you done?

What have you done?

What, what, what have you done, Tatyana?

She was shaking and exhausted and wired all at the same time. Her skin felt like it might fly away from her body. The top of her head was going to float off. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel Oleg inside her, stroking her to a pleasure so extreme she couldn’t wrap her brain around it.

Her body began to shake again, likely an aftershock from stress. Her anxiety spiked, and she gripped the seams of her skirt with tight hands.

“Breathe.” She inhaled through her nose and let the air into her lungs in a slow and deliberate stream.

Breathe.

She opened her eyes and looked around the room.

It was a luxurious suite with a balcony that overlooked the ocean. When she’d woken that morning, the sun was shining at an angle through the wide French doors. There was a silver thermos of coffee and a tray of fruit and pastries under a sterling silver dome on the table outside.

None of it felt real. Not the luxury. Not the intrigue. And definitely not the romance.

Romance?

No, Oleg wasn’t a romantic. None of what had happened in that car had been romantic. It was hunger and desire and power. He’d given Tatyana pleasure and taken none for himself, and yet somehow all of it had felt… selfish?

What was going on? She didn’t understand him. The moment he’d seemed even a little bit human in the car, when she’d reached out to him—finally understanding how his feud with Zara would end—he’d taken control back and pushed her into giving him everything.

And she’d wanted it. She’d asked for every touch, then craved more. She felt like an animal, her body operating on sheer instinct. She could still taste his blood in her mouth.

What have you done?

Tatyana had behaved like a vampire, biting into his lip until she could feel his flesh give way and his blood entered her mouth.

Oh God.

She’d tasted vampire blood. Her heart started to race and sweat bloomed on her forehead. She put her hands to her cheeks. Did she feel different? Was she hotter than normal? Colder?

What did drinking vampire blood mean? She didn’t feel any different, but she didn’t know and she didn’t know who to ask. Who could she ask?

She reached for her phone and scrolled though her texts.

Not Elene.

Definitely not her mother.

Her stylist’s name caught her eye.

“I’m here to help, Tatyana. I hope you can trust me even though I know that everything must feel very strange right now.”

Lorala would know, wouldn’t she?

She tapped Lorala’s number and quickly typed in a question.

If I tasted vampire blood by accident… She racked her mind for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t give her away. …if there was a fight and some flew into my mouth, what would happen? I’m not going to become a vampire now, am I? Will I be sensitive to the sun or anything?

It was a few moments before she saw Lorala typing back in her messaging app.

Definitely not. Vampire blood will heal surface wounds or scratches. If you ingested a lot of it, it might make you throw up, but you’re not going to become a vampire. You’d have to be nearly dead from blood loss and then drink a lot of vampire blood for that to happen. It’s not something that happens by accident.

Tatyana let out a breath and pulled her knees up as she rested her forehead on them in relief. She let Lorala’s information sink in for a few moments before she responded.

Thank you. I didn’t know what might happen, and I was going a little bit crazy.

Are you okay?

How to answer that?

Well, Lorala, I saw the world’s oldest vampire tonight, and she scared the crap out of every vampire in the tavern. Then I found out that my new boss is going to kill my old boss and that doing that will mean killing a part of himself, which made me feel sympathetic to him and hold his hand and he took that as an invitation to pull me onto his lap and give me the most unearthly powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

She couldn’t tell Lorala any of that.

It’s been a strange night, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for calming my panic before I spiraled. I better get some sleep.

Let’s get a drink in the daylight when you get back to Odesa.

Yes. That sounds great.

She tossed her phone on the floor and covered her face with her hands.

Tatyana, what have you done?

After a few more self-pitying moments, Tatyana dragged herself from the floor and stood. She eased off her jacket, kicked off her shoes, and scooted her skirt to her ankles before she kicked her clothes into a heap by the closet. She stripped to her panties and grabbed her giant hooded sweatshirt, pulling it over her head as she dragged the blankets from the bed over to the window.

Making a nest for herself where the sunlight would touch her skin when the morning came, she curled into a ball and pulled a blanket over her body, hiding under the blankets while she waited for daylight.

She wanted her mother. She wanted her cat.

And she desperately wanted to not dream about Oleg Sokolov.

Tatyana woke the next morning with the sun shining on her face. She’d kicked off her covers during the night and was bare from the waist down, wearing only her hoodie and a pair of underwear.

Glancing at the balcony, she saw that the silver coffee carafe and domed tray was back on her balcony, so either the French doors were shaded from the outside or whoever had delivered her food had gotten a show.

Tatyana couldn’t bring herself to care.

Whatever servants existed in Oleg’s home, they were basically invisible. She hadn’t seen more than a shadow of them since she’d arrived. Food appeared like magic. Fresh towels were hung on a warming rack in the bathroom. Full size bottles of luxury-brand shampoo and conditioner were in the bathroom.

It all seemed excessive for a two-night trip, but what did she know? Oleg lived like royalty, and she had become attached to him by some twist of fate.

She rose and walked to the bathroom, taking off her hoodie and underwear to take a shower in the marble walk-in.

As she stood under the rain-like shower, she closed her eyes and tried to focus.

She had one day to herself in Sevastopol. When she arrived, Oleg told her that a driver would be available to her but she would need to be accompanied by bodyguards since Zara was still roaming around.

She thought about visiting her mother but decided against it. In the mood she was in, she’d probably try to grab her mother again and run.

Then Oleg would track her down again, drag her back, and she’d be even further behind in looking for his money.

“Work,” she whispered. She could work. That’s what she was going to do. She was going to get her computer, try to forget the night before, and sink into analyzing spreadsheets with money transfers from two years ago, looking for patterns.

She slapped the shower lever down and shook her head before she wrapped a towel around her hair, put on the plush bathrobe, and left the bathroom.

Good, she had a plan. She would work, find Oleg’s money, and then…

No, she wasn’t going to think that far ahead. She was going to focus on work.

She rubbed the excess water from her hair and combed it out before she walked to the balcony and poured some coffee to start the day. Sitting in the sunlight, she surveyed Oleg’s mansion, and it was nothing less than a wonder.

Isolated on a jut of rocky beach that stretched into the Black Sea, the property was surrounded by trees and the house itself reminded her of a massive cruise ship, each story built back into the hill behind the house with balconies and staircases twisting around lush gardens and private patios.

It reminded her of houses she’d seen on the Greek islands, only instead of blue domes, the roof was baked red tile, and the whitewashed walls of the mansion were decorated by intricate mosaics that must have taken years to install.

The sound of waves and gently trickling water was everywhere, burbling from blue-tiled fountains that reflected the sky, falling from waterfalls that flowed from one story to the next, and bursting in joyful splashes from reflecting pools that lined the walkways that led down to the ocean.

She nibbled on the croissants and the fruit provided by the unseen servants, wondering if she could get more and who she could talk to about eating a real meal.

The night before, she hadn’t had much of an appetite, but now she was ravenous. Pastries and fruit weren’t going to cut her hunger.

Her stomach growled, and Tatyana walked back inside to dress and go in search of food.

Armed with jeans, a T-shirt, and a perfectly appropriate business-casual jacket, she left her barricaded room and walked down the staircase that led to the main living area of the house.

There were fountains in the living area too and a massive fireplace that dominated a sunken conversation pit surrounded by windows that looked out over the sea.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed on the plaster walls and tiled floor. “Is anyone awake?”

In moments, a woman appeared from a hidden hallway under the stairs.

“Miss Vorona,” she said. “I am Leni, the house’s day manager. May I assist you?” Her appearance and accent told Tatyana she was a Crimean native, probably a Tatar woman.

“Yes, please.” She walked toward Leni. “The fruit and pastry on the balcony is delicious, but I am wondering if there is something more? Maybe some eggs or even a kasha?” Tatyana found herself missing something as simple and hearty as her grandmother’s buckwheat porridge.

Leni’s eyes brightened immediately. “Of course! The chef will enjoy having a human guest to cook for.”

“Vampires don’t eat much, do they?”

The woman smiled. “They don’t need to. But our chef cooks for the staff too, and Pavel makes wonderful pancakes. Would you like blini with smoked salmon, perhaps? Or pancakes with fresh fruit? Both would be more filling than pastry.”

“Blini with salmon sounds amazing.” She looked around the room. “I was hoping to work today before we fly back. Is there a room with a large table where I can plug in my laptop and spread out some files?”

“Of course, Miss Vorona.” Leni nodded. “Perhaps the second dining room would suit you. There is a large table, but not as large as the banquet room. I can show you to it after I tell Pavel your breakfast order.”

“Perfect.” She walked back to her room and grabbed her computer and files before she returned to the main room where Leni was waiting.

“This way.” She led Tatyana down another beautifully decorated hallway where green-and-gold tile mosaics decorated the bottom of the walls.

“The artwork in the house is magnificent. All the fountains and the murals.”

Leni looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Yes, Mr. Sokolov has taken great care in their design. He employed some workmen for the outside, but the mosaic of the sirens over the fireplace is his own work.”

Tatyana nearly tripped over her feet. “He… You mean he made them? Himself?”

“Oh yes.” Leni nodded. “Mr. Sokolov is a very talented artist and creates work for most of his homes.”

A fuzzy memory tickled her mind.

“What do you do for fun?”

“I work on my art.”

“You’re an artist?”

“Mosaics. I make mosaics.”

She knew that. Or she had known that. Oleg had told her about his art—there was a verdant forest scene in her mind—but she had forgotten.

Or he had made her forget.

They were going to have a conversation about that when he woke.

“Here you are.” Leni opened a pair of double doors to reveal a gilt-edged room with oil paintings decorating the walls and an amber chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “Pavel is preparing your breakfast right now. Please make yourself comfortable and I’ll serve you shortly.”

She was neck-deep in cryptocurrency transactions when she heard his voice.

“Excellent. You’re making yourself at home.”

She looked up to see Oleg leaning against the double doors of the dining room, his arms crossed over his chest.

Tatyana blinked and looked out the window. “I didn’t even realize the sun had gone down.”

“Did you spend all day in here? Studying your numbers and accounts?” He walked toward her, and she felt it again, the magnetic force of everything he was bearing down on her. “You should have made use of the grounds. There are several pools, a grotto, and a boat available should you want to use it.”

Tatyana saved her work, closed her laptop, and scooted her chair back from the table. “I had work to do.”

“You can’t work all the time.”

She was desperate to change the subject from herself. “You’re a mosaic artist. You told me that and then wiped my memory.”

He stopped walking. “In my defense, you touched my hand and passed out.” He looked her up and down. “I do love your reaction to my hands.”

Tatyana’s cheeks burned, but she ignored his provocative words and continued with the statement she had decided to make. “I don’t want you to alter my memory again. I know I can’t stop you. If you really want to do it, you will. But I am asking you not to, and if you have any respect or regard for me, you will not do it again.”

Oleg smiled. “So businesslike, my little wolf.” He walked over, bent down, and placed a chaste kiss on both her cheeks. “I regard you highly, and I will not alter your memories again unless I deem it necessary for your safety.”

That was likely the only concession she was going to get out the overbearing vampire lord. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I have spent all day working, but I did eat lunch out on the main balcony, and the fountains are beautiful.”

Oleg pulled out a chair and sat next to her, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. The position made Tatyana very aware of just how tall he was. His physical presence dwarfed hers.

“This was the house I built for Luana.” Oleg looked around. “And Zara. Water vampires prefer to live near their element. They resided here for many years after they became lovers.”

She let out a slow breath. “I don’t think I knew that before. So your mate and your…”

“Child.” He lifted one shoulder. “The tie between Zara and me was completely independent of her relationship with Luana. We were in no way a family. Zara was Luana’s lover first. My mate asked me to change her lover so Zara could remain at her side.”

Wow. Just… wow.

“That is… very twisted.”

“Perhaps from a human perspective, but we are not human.”

“Wait. I’m confused.” Tatyana remembered what Mika had told her. “Zara is your child, but you’re a fire vampire who comes from an… earth vampire. Right?”

Oleg stared at her with a blank expression. “You listen well.”

“But how?—”

“My mate was a water vampire. It’s not common, but when one exchanges blood with a vampire of another element—and Luana and I exchanged a lot of blood—then sometimes unpredictable things happen with amnis.”

“So you had Luana’s blood when you changed Zara.” Something about that felt so wrong to Tatyana, but she didn’t know why. Oleg was right—she was trying to assign human morality to creatures that were not human. “That means Luana had your blood too.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “That’s what a mate bond is.”

She felt a twisting pain in her heart. She looked at Oleg’s cool grey eyes. Calculating. Cold. Predatory. He didn’t like this subject, but he was indulging her curiosity. “Did it hurt you physically when Luana died?”

There was a twitch under one eye. “It was excruciating.”

Which meant that killing Zara would be just as painful to him. Maybe more.

“And Luana didn’t change Zara herself because then she would be like a mother?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been asking questions.”

“Maybe,” Tatyana said. “But you were mated to Luana and?—”

“If you, for example, wanted to become a vampire, I would never turn you, Tatyana Vorona.” His eyes traveled down her body. “Then I would never be able to taste your lovely breasts.”

Turning the conversation toward the provocative meant Oleg was finished with the subject of his dead mate and his daughter.

“Not to worry.” She smiled. “I have no interest in becoming a vampire.”

“Hmm.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You would make a good one. You are practical.” His eyes met hers. “And you bite.”

Tatyana felt like Oleg had spread his fire over her skin. “Last night, when we?—”

“Not the time to speak of such things.” He kept his voice low. “Not with so many ears in this house. Many of the people here were hired by Zara.”

Tatyana’s entire body felt hot. “Do you think some of them still speak to her?”

“Not willingly, but she knows who they are, which means she might try to use them.”

“Why didn’t you fire them?”

“You would have me put a seventy-year-old gardener out of work because my daughter hired him? You are even more practical than I thought.”

“No.” How did he turn things around on her so quickly? “I only meant?—”

“I know what you meant, and you’re not wrong. But I haven’t spent time in this house since Luana died. Choosing staff was not a high priority.”

She looked down at her spreadsheets and her notes before she looked back at Oleg. “Do you think Zara would care that we were lovers?”

Oleg’s smirk turned into a smile. “We’re not lovers yet,” he whispered. “That was just a little taste.” He winked at her, and in the blink of an eye, he rose and was walking toward the door. “We need to return to Odesa tonight. You should get your work things together, but leave whatever personal items in your room that you would like. That suite is yours now. I’ll instruct the night manager to give you a key.”

Tatyana had the feeling she was teetering on a bicycle that had started rolling down a hill. “I don’t need a key to your house. And I’m not leaving anything here. I already have a house in Sevastopol.”

Oleg turned when he reached the door and spread his arms. “And now you have the use of a second. I’ve already called the pilots. Be ready to leave at nine.”