Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

T atyana woke to the scent of Oleg outside her door.

She rose, wrapped herself in a blue silk robe that had appeared in her closet the day before, and walked to the door, opening it and grabbing the silver carafe from his hand.

His eyebrow went up. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” She stepped back and allowed him to enter her room, trying to ignore the burst of arousal he elicited just by existing.

“I’m not in control of that.” She gulped down the blood as quickly as she could so it didn’t cool. “Just so you know.”

“I know. I am not a man to make assumptions.” He walked to the chair in the corner of the room and sat, perusing the stack of books she’d been reading on the nightstand. “Pushkin poems and Russian fairy tales.”

“You don’t have many current bestsellers in the library.” She finished the carafe of blood and set it to the side, relieved to feel the burn in her throat was even less than the night before. “Old stories from the nineteenth century are about as current as it gets.”

Oleg smiled a little bit and picked up the stout, leather-bound collection of old fairy tales. “I need to update the library here. Which one is your favorite?”

Tatyana looked at him. Something about the stoic predator felt sad that night. If she didn’t know how dangerous he was, she might even call him fragile.

I don’t know what you and Oleg are, but if you act cruelly toward him, I will finish the job that Zara started.

Tatyana walked to the bed and sat on the edge. “My favorite?”

She thought about it. She’d probably read about half the stories in one form or another growing up. Her grandmother had an illustrated copy of the same book at the farm, and she’d spent many nights looking through the pictures even before she could read the stories. “I don’t know. Probably ‘Ivan, the Firebird, and the Wolf.’”

“Oh?” Oleg kicked his feet up on the footrest by the chair and leaned on the arm of the chair. “Why that one?”

“Because Ivan gets everything he wants in the end and lives happily ever after.” She stretched her legs out. “Isn’t that the best kind of story? Life is depressing enough. If I’m reading a story, I want a happy ending.”

Oleg nodded. “Valid point.”

“What about you? Are these your fairy tales? Or did you learn different ones when you were a child?”

“I don’t remember being a child,” Oleg mused. “Though I must have been once. My human memories are very faint.”

“Hmm.”

He picked up the book. “But these are good stories. I had a mistress in Saint Petersburg at one time who had four children, and I used to read these stories to them.”

“To your mistress’s children?” Tatyana tried to imagine the lethal vampire reading fairy tales to children.

“Yes. She was a widow, so the children were part of the arrangement.” Oleg paged through the old book. “And I enjoyed spending time with them. The little boy—there were three girls and one boy—I think he must have suspected what I was, because he loved the vampire story in this book.”

Tatyana curled her lip. “That’s a horrible story.”

“I know.” Oleg smiled. “Children are so morbid. It’s the thing I like most about them. He wanted to hear it over and over. The vampire is killed at the end of the story. I probably should have guessed he would grow up to hate me.”

“Why did he hate you?”

“Because I wouldn’t marry his mother.” Oleg snapped the book shut. “It was better that I didn’t, but of course he didn’t know that. I had to leave when he was sixteen. I’d been with all of them for too long.”

Tatyana nodded. “They would have noticed that you weren’t growing older.”

“Yes. But I provided for her until she died.”

“And your mate didn’t mind that you had a mistress?”

He shook his head and set the book back on the table. “Luana had her own interests by then. We had separate lives, but we were still friendly.”

“What is your favorite story?” She nodded at the book. “Other than the vampire story.”

“‘The Giant Turnip,’ of course.”

Tatyana burst into laughter.

Oleg smiled too. “I can’t believe you even had to ask. Get dressed. I have the night off, and there is something I wanted to show you.”

“Are we having more lessons tonight?” Her shoulders slumped. “I want a break.”

“No lessons.” Oleg stood and walked to the edge of the bed, standing in front of her and straddling her legs as he looked down to meet her eyes. “Unless you’re in the mood for some very particular lessons about how to control your fangs.”

Tatyana held her breath when she saw the length of his erection behind his trousers. Her mouth watered, and she felt her body soften just at the thought of more sex with Oleg.

He’s trying to distract you. And himself.

She looked up and met his eyes as she reached out with a single finger and ran it over the hard length covered in merino wool. “Do you know what I really want?”

Oleg’s fangs were down when he answered her. “I might be able to guess.”

She put her hands on his hips and firmly pushed him back. “A proper tour of the house. This place is as big as a palace, and I’m constantly getting lost.”

Oleg’s rueful chuckle reassured Tatyana that he was in a playful mood. “I see your teeth are as sharp as ever, little wolf.”

“Out, you turnip.” She shooed him toward the door. “Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you in the hall.”

Oleg held her hand as he led Tatyana around the house, showing her the ground floor first, which she had almost memorized. There was the ballroom, the formal dining room, and other large meeting rooms. Wide, window-filled spaces that allowed the garden into the house, and walls decorated with art and tapestries.

“The first floor was made for private quarters.” He waved a hand as they headed up from the ground floor. “The grand bedrooms, suites, and sitting rooms for the master of the house and his lady.”

“But I think Oksana said that now they’re mostly offices.”

“Correct,” Oleg said. “And some storage rooms. Sitting rooms. Private spaces, but no day chambers. Only the wind vampires like sleeping this high up.”

“And everyone else sleeps in the basement?”

“Yes. I expanded it when I bought the house. It’s the safest place for our kind.” He pointed down a hallway and kept her hand in his as they walked. “I’ll show you the main bedroom. It’s quite beautiful.”

She watched him as he led her around the house, acting as the tour guide for the curious newcomer. When he pushed open a large set of double doors, her eyes immediately went to the ceiling, which was decorated in the baroque style with a colorful and bright scene full of angels and cherubs.

Oleg pointed up. “See? Wind vampires were parading in front of you your entire life, and you just didn’t know it.”

Tatyana smiled. “You said the wind vampires like to sleep high up.”

“They do. And they love a good balcony.”

“You have a few wind vampires living with you, but not many.”

Oleg grunted. “You’re perceptive.”

She didn’t say anything, curious if he would explain more.

“Most wind vampires in this part of the world owe their allegiance to the Fire King.” Oleg continued after a few moments of silence. “Arosh. He’s an ancient vampire who lives in the Caucasus Mountains not far from here.”

“And he’s also a fire vampire?”

“Yes, but he is far older than me.” Oleg squeezed her hand. “Let’s keep walking.” He led her out of the bedroom and toward another set of gilt-edged stairs. “Were I to challenge Arosh, I would likely lose, and I would not say that about many.”

“But if he’s a fire vampire, why do most of the wind vampires— Oh. Oh.” She blinked. “Was his sire a wind vampire? So his children are wind vampires?”

“Exactly. Most of the wind vampires in this area are under his aegis.”

“And you two are… enemies?”

“Not enemies. But not friends.” He glanced down as they started up the stairs. “Arosh is an honorable vampire—he takes care of his people and is known for having a soft heart toward human women in particular—but he has his own moral code.”

“It seems like the two of you would agree on that.”

Oleg raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. But fire vampires are not friends with other fire vampires. We provoke an automatic aggression instinctively. Arosh and I coexist and try to avoid each other. He stays on his side of the Mzymta River and I stay on mine.”

Tatyana pulled up a mental map. “Wait, the Mzymta is close to here.”

Oleg nodded and led her toward a third flight of stairs. “Yes. This house is my most eastern residence on the Black Sea. Obviously my territory stretches across Siberia, but…” He shuddered. “Cold.”

She couldn’t stop her smile. “You’re a fire vampire.”

“Does that mean I’m supposed to like the cold?” He walked to the right when they reached the landing and turned down a narrow hallway. “There is a room at a corner of the house that I wanted to show you.”

“What’s up here?” She glanced out the windows to see the forest spreading across the hills. “There are so many windows.” It would be a death trap during the day.

“Yes.” He reached a door and turned the knob, keeping her hand firmly in his grip. “I once thought that if I was human, I would have used this room as a studio because I imagine the morning light would be very beautiful. But since I cannot see the sun in here…”

“What did— Oh!” Tatyana stepped into the center of the room and froze, her mouth agape at the beauty surrounding her. “The sunflowers, Oleg.”

He released her hand and walked around the perimeter of the room, surveying an elaborate mosaic that covered the base of the walls, growing up between east-facing windows and reaching toward the ceiling.

The mosaic was a field of sunflowers that circled the room, and while the light from the stars was a pearl grey shining through the glass, Tatyana could imagine how it would look in the morning with the light glinting off the gold and orange flower heads that grew up the walls.

“It’s so beautiful.” She lifted a hand to touch it, then pulled back. “I don’t know if I can?—”

“You can touch.” Oleg ran his palm along the wall. “I completed this one fifty years or so after I bought the house. I think it turned out well.”

The room appeared like a floating meadow over the treetops. It was empty save for a single wooden chair propped in the corner.

“No one uses it?”

“Not right now,” he said. “Luana liked this room. She used to say that if she ever chose to die, she would come up to the room at dawn and wait for the sun.”

“And burn down the entire house with everyone else sleeping?”

“Possibly.” Oleg nodded. “That would be something she would do.”

“Morbid.”

“She would think of it as romantic.” Oleg nodded at Tatyana. “She could be a bit dramatic. She was a dancer when she was human. A prima ballerina.”

Interesting. Was that why Oleg was interested in her?

I used to braid my girlfriend’s hair. She had beautiful blond hair like you.

Tatyana wasn’t keen to let questions linger in her mind and twist her guts. Zara had mentioned Tatyana’s resemblance to her girlfriend, and now Oleg told her his dead mate had been a dancer.

She walked over and looked up into his cool grey eyes. “Do I remind you of Luana? Is that why you’re attracted to me?”

He smiled a little bit. “I cannot lie that I was struck by the similarities the first time I saw you, but other than your coloring, the resemblance is not actually very strong. Perhaps she came from the same place that your people did, a long time ago. You could be… cousins perhaps?”

“Does that mean you have a type?”

“My type is women.” Oleg lifted his hand and pulled a strand of her gold hair through his fingers. “And perhaps I am only seeing what I want to see. I don’t have photographs of Luana. Only a few sketches that I don’t look at anymore.”

Tatyana frowned. “Why no photographs? Can vampires not be photographed?”

“Another superstition, volchitsa. We simply don’t take photographs because they are permanent evidence of our immortality.”

Tatyana nodded slowly. “When you talk about her, she seems…” How did Tatyana phrase this without being offensive?

“Insane?” Oleg offered. “Mad?”

“Delicate maybe?”

Oleg smirked. “Delicate is a very kind way to describe her. Luana was very unstable, particularly toward the end of her life. I believe she was ill when her sire turned her, and that can happen sometimes. Turning a human who carries any kind of infection can sometimes produce a vampire who is not… balanced.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Oleg leaned against the wall. “Still, she was my mate. I tried to protect her and keep her happy.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “Because that was my job.”

Tatyana narrowed her eyes. “You do that.”

“Do what? My job?”

“You try to make people happy even when you’re pretending to be a bully.”

He said nothing, and his face went blank.

What had she said? She started to step away, but Oleg’s hand darted out and pulled her closer, wrapping around the small of her back as he pulled her to his chest.

Her heart gave a single thunk.

When he spoke, his voice was low and soft. “You think I’m a bully?”

“No.” She forced the words out. “I said you pretend to be a bully.”

“You’re not afraid of me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes I am, a little bit.”

“I would never hurt you.” He lifted his chin. “Do you believe me?”

“No.”

Or yes. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her intentionally, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her.

His hand slid from the small of her back down to her bottom and cupped it, pulling her into his groin. “You think I’m lying?”

“Maybe you’re telling the truth.” Tatyana stared into his stormy grey eyes. “But remember Ivan and the firebird. Even when you start with the best of intentions, things will go wrong. That’s the way of life.”

Oleg reached down and lifted her, swiftly turning them and pressing her back against a wall of sunflowers as Tatyana wrapped her legs around his waist.

She could feel his hard erection against her eager, heated sex.

Take him. Take this.

For as long as you can.

The whisper in her mind seduced her as thoroughly as Oleg did when he took her lips with his own, teasing her mouth open to welcome his tongue and his fangs. She licked out, running her tongue along his slick fang, and felt a shudder cross his shoulders.

Her amnis slid across his, and she tasted her blood in his mouth as he pierced her tongue and sucked hard.

Oleg held her against the wall as she rode his erection between her thighs. Tatyana reached down, struggling with the loose sweatpants she was wearing and trying to figure out how to get rid of them without losing the delicious friction that was already pushing her to the edge of climax.

With a growl of frustration, Oleg put her on the ground, yanked her pants off, and then quickly lifted her again, leaving her naked at the waist.

“Unbutton my pants,” he commanded as he held her against the wall.

Tatyana held her breath as she reached between them and fumbled with his trousers, eventually releasing his sizable erection. She gripped it with her hand and guided him into her body.

Oleg arched his hips and drove her into the wall, but Tatyana braced her hands on his shoulders and took the force of his thrusts as his amnis flooded her skin, heightening the arousal of them both until she felt like she might leave her body from the pleasure.

The smell of singed pine released in the air as his body heated. She drew water to her skin, grateful for the salt-laden breeze that carried the taste of the sea and the darkness.

Oleg whispered something under his breath, something in a language she couldn’t understand. It was heated and fervent. The foreign words reached down into her chest, carrying an aching need that she tried to push to the back of her mind.

She didn’t know the future. There was only this. Only now.

Tatyana closed her eyes and let pleasure break over her like a wave.