If I wasn’t good company yet, I could learn to be.
The ray of hope at a life of freedom was quickly replaced by the sting of reality. If I did that, packed up my things in a midnight flit, and ran off to Wherever It Might Be, then what would happen to my father? What would happen to my mother?
Natasha was absolutely right. If I fled, they would bear the brunt of the Greengallow fury, and I had no doubt that Petre would take perverse pleasure in such revenge.
The idea of abandoning them made me slump down on my bed. I knew my mother loved my father, and vice versa. There was no question about that. And my father, despite all his life-upending faults, was a decent human being who I loved even when I most probably should not.
He’d made a mess of my life and sold me off, yes; but he also had always tried his best, even when his best ended up in catastrophe. The gambling was beyond his control in many ways.
Getting him to stop would be like asking a terrier to stop chasing a rat. Even still, I had never been deprived of anything in my life; despite our family having very little money, whatever we did have was spent on me without question.
When I received an offer of a place at Saint Theodora’s, the money was there. No doubt if I required a dowry it would have been found, though as things stood that was unnecessary: Petre Greengallow was getting something far more valuable than money; he was getting a royal title. Something for the family that has gained the very highest positions available within their own social class, but still lusts after more.
Even my father’s gambling, I knew, had so much to do with me—to secure a life for me, to give me safety and stability—as it had to do with the thrill of chance. For all that I had, I was grateful. If I left, if I let my end of this whole horrendous bargain drop, how would that make my parents feel?
Glancing out the window into the night, the imposing arches of the Sernu Viaduct bridge caught my eye. Its arches made three massive half-circles over the River Sernu, towering above this valley and the next. I could almost see my father dangling from it, strung up by Petre Greengallow himself, as a lesson to all those who reneged on their debts.
My father had already lost so much. The thin band of pride he retained after being nearly discarded by his own family for marrying my mother, a commoner. They’d allowed him his title, given him a place to call home, but cut him off in all other ways. He, too, was a prince in paper alone and thus, another reason we were in this predicament.
I buried my face in my hands. Running wasn’t an option. Absolutely not.
A noise outside in the corridor made me drop my hands to my lap. I listened, and heard a creak on the floorboards on the other side of my door.
I was sure it was Natasha returning.
It wouldn’t surprise me. Her moods and actions of late were wildly unpredictable.
Striking a match, I lit a candle that I kept at my bedside and padded to the door. A soft knock made my heart leap, but I told myself not to be so silly. Natasha was perpetually losing her keys.
“Natasha?” I whispered, but when I opened the door, it wasn’t Natasha’s gaunt face that greeted me.
Instead, there stood Vasile Greengallow himself, looking intense. And powerful. And jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
I was so utterly shocked to see him that I stepped back. He used my surprise to his advantage by stepping inside and locking the door behind him.
You idiot girl.
I’d broken the first rule of fencing and left myself open to my opponent by stepping backwards. And now here he was, in my space. Towering over me, with dark eyes glinting in the candlelight. Do not give in to those eyes, I told myself.
“What in the world are you doing here?” I whisper-hissed. I maneuvered myself around him, unlocked and opened the door again, pointing at the hallway. “Get out of here. You don’t belong here.”
With one massive hand on my arm, he moved me aside and shut the door behind me once again, this time locking it and removing the key slipping it into his jacket pocket.
I inhaled hard through my nose, both in fear and fury.
“How dare you?”
“My brother knows about us,” he said, stepping into me and pocketing the key as he crowded my space. “He might not be much, but he’s a nasty piece of work. You’re no longer safe.”
I set my teeth and scowled up at him.
“Us? There is no us to know about, Vasile. Your brother can think what he likes, but I have done nothing. So get out of my room, and get out of my business. None of this concerns you.”
“The fuck it doesn’t,” he growled. The look in his eyes was wild, aggressive. Such power. Such ferocity. “He saw the way I looked at you.” He met my gaze without a hint of shame. “And how you looked at me.”
I stared into those wild, haunting golden irises edged in dark red, and I almost lost myself. Nothing was more dangerous than a man like Vasile, restrained power wrapped up in a handsome, charming package.
In that moment, I wondered if he would take me if I let him, defile me right then and there with a hand clenched around my throat as I panted and moaned and begged for release.
But then, what good would be the use of swapping one brother for the other?
I’d be no freer with Vasile, the older, wiser, probably more cunning criminal, than I would be with Petre who I knew would take out his frustrations on me every chance he got. I wanted nothing to do with their criminal sort.
What use, indeed?
“You want to marry him?” Vasile asked in a tone that was more of a challenge than a question.
“I don’t want to marry him,” I said softly, my chest heaving with every breath. “I can’t stand the sight of him…him or….” I trailed off. An hour ago, I’d have finished that thought with or you.
But I knew that would be a lie. Despite everything he was, I was mesmerized by Vasile’s presence, and deeply attracted to him in every single way. As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted him. And my body did as well.
I shifted my weight, feeling the thump, thump of my pulse along with a slick wetness between my legs. Never before had I felt my heartbeat down so low. So decadent and tawdry, yet I clenched my muscles there, willing the new feelings to gather instead of retreat.
His eyes flicked down as if he knew and then back up to meet my gaze as I swallowed hard, urging my skin not to flush and my breaths to remain even as I knew both were betraying me.
I could have him. If I wanted to, I could seduce this man who probably only wanted me because I belonged to his brother. Did they fight over toys as children, just as they would fight over a woman now? Each wanting to possess the thing he cannot have?
And could I—would I—dare use Vasile to escape the clutches of a marriage I neither asked for nor wanted?
I could. I could do it. I could use my body to that end. My father even said I had that womanly power.
Seduce the brother, lose my virginity, become a damaged, unwanted prize. Let them fight each other if they wanted to while I flee. Surely, if he no longer wanted me, it would be Petre’s choice and then possibly the debt forgiven as my father would still be more than willing to hand me over.
“I don’t want to marry him,” I repeated, steeling myself. Was I really about to do this? “I don’t want him.”
I inched closer, the inflection in my last word lingering between us. Casting aside doubt, I reached out and lightly touched his arm.
And that was all it took.
He let out a low growl of desire and pulled me into him, his massive hand on the small of my back. His careless stubble grazed my cheek, and I felt the heat of his breath against my skin. I swallowed hard and felt my lips quiver.
“I…” His jaw worked without sound for a moment, before he shook his head, looking deep into my eyes, into my soul. “I can’t do it. I won’t…” For a moment, I thought he was talking about family loyalty, struggling with the idea of betraying his brother, but I was wrong. “I won’t leave you here for my fucking brother,” he
said, and finished his thought with a kiss.
And what a kiss it was. I was stunned at first, stunned at his harshness and confidence.
The room spun and I hung on to his broad shoulders. Even through his thick coat, his biceps tightened with tension as he held me close.
I was helpless to the moan that escaped my lips as he swept my tongue aside with his, keeping me wanting more and more, deeper and deeper. The more I kissed him back the more tender he became, until my heart ached in my chest and I had his shirt gripped in both my hands.
He pulled away first, but still stayed close so that we were nose to nose. He gently caressed my cheek with his thumb. His arm around my waist tightened, and so too did his grip on my cheek, so that his fingers hooked behind my jaw, and his first finger pressed into a wonderful sensitive spot just below my ear.
“We’re leaving,” he said, and all at once scooped me up and hoisted me off the floor and over his shoulder.
“No, wait!” I cried, the air forced from my lungs as he slung me like a sack of potatoes. This wasn’t what I wanted. Was it? “Put me down!”
“No.”
“Put me down!” I snarled, beating his back.
He gripped my butt hard and spun toward the door.
“Let me go or I’ll scream,” I said. “And every girl in this place will be trying to claw your eyes out.”
His grip tightened and he curled his arm over my body, carrying me toward the door like an unwilling bride.
“You say a fucking word,” he said, “and I’ll have you over my knee for a spanking so fierce you’ll wish you kept your mouth shut.”
Oh lord. A rush of wetness spilled from between my legs, thinking of his hand on my bare behind.
Smacking. Stinging.
Stop.
Somehow, he connected with the drumbeat of desire his words drew from me, because he responded with that low growl again which only made the situation worse.
I was angry at my body for betraying my better sense. Sexy though he may be, I wasn’t going anywhere with him. That was definitely not a part of my plan to escape a hateful marriage to his brother. Where he planned to take me, I had no idea, and I wasn’t about to find out. It was time to fight. With everything I had.
Fight I did. I fought him with all my might, wriggling out of his hold just enough to loop my arm around his muscular neck. I’d never actually completed a carotid hold until my opponent blacked out, but if ever there was a time, this was it. The strong thrumming pulse of his jugular vein pattered away against the inside of my forearm.
I should scream. It would end this right now. Yet, I did not.
Why did I not?
“Fuck,” he gasped, clawing at my arm with his hands.
Making someone lose consciousness isn’t a feat of strength. Though I was half his size, I knew what I was doing. I tightened a little more, feeling both intoxicatingly powerful and damned glad I paid such close attention during my grappling arts classes.
Not for the first time, I said a silent thanks to Saint Theodora. I might just get out of this after all.
But before I knew it, with a single grip of his left hand, he thrust me off him and I heard him gasp for air as I was dropping from his arms to land on the rug, no longer over his shoulder but held firmly by a giant hand with a vise-like grip on a twist of fabric from my nightdress. Either I stayed where I was, or it would be torn from me as I ran.
In an instant, he was kneeling beside me, checking to make sure I was alright. He still looked mad as hell, but in those dark eyes there was a concern, too.
“I didn’t know you’d be such a hellcat,” he said, placing his thumb just below my eyelid to check my pupils, as if the fall from a height of about six inches might have permanently damaged me. He grabbed my hand to help me up to sitting, but I knew I had to fight him once again.
Not for my freedom, but for my consciousness. I shoved him hard, batting at his face, trying desperately to loose his grip on my nightdress.
“Just knock that shit off,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He had no idea I was fighting not him, but the fact that my head was now above my heart, but my blood pressure was still sky-high. I was now sitting upright and I knew from the way the world was closing in that I was in trouble.
Not because I was injured, but because I had, very unfortunately, inherited one incredibly inconvenient trait through my mother’s side of the family.
We were strong, fierce, headstrong women.
But we were also fainters.
The tell-tale rush of nausea and coldness took hold of me.
No, no, no, no, no.
I tried all the tactics I’d learned over the years.
Hold my breath.
Don’t blink.
Clench every muscle.
But it was no use. The shock of seeing him, the effort of fighting him, and the damned inconvenient way my body was responding to his scent, were working against me. It was embarrassing… but it was happening.
I looked up at his eyes, desperate to explain. But it was too late.
I was on the way out, and then the world went black.
Chapter 8
Valeria
When I regained consciousness, I was on horseback, moving through the night, wrapped tightly in several blankets against the almost endless cold of the long Praque winter.
Vasile sat behind me in the saddle, his thighs pressing against mine, and embracing me from behind to hold the reins. He was an experienced rider, and he and the horse moved as one, familiar and comfortable with one another.
We were moving down a small woodland path that went from stand to stand of pine trees. Though the hoofprints up ahead of us were faint, slightly windblown and difficult to make out precisely, I guessed they were from Vasile heading the other direction earlier in the day, moving toward the valleys and away from the mountains. But it was too dark to be absolutely sure. Wherever we were, he knew exactly where we were headed.
I most certainly did not.
I gave him no immediate signal that I was awake. Instead, I carefully assessed the situation.
Judging by the moon, we were heading east.
Wiggling my toes, I realized I was now wearing socks and slippers, which I hadn’t been when he arrived. Thoughts of what else he may have done while I was unconscious had that now familiar tension growing in my center.
The pleasant feelings were outmatched by another familiar sensation. My head ached a bit as it usually does after one of my fainting spells, but otherwise I felt better than I should.
I briefly considered fighting him once more. Landing a well-placed elbow to his solar plexus would sending him flying backwards while I stayed safe in the saddle.
But it was winter, it was night, and I was on an unfamiliar horse in an unknown place. He’d already ridden this path once that day. So even if he was thrown, it was quite likely his mount was bonded enough to him to return.
Fighting wasn’t my best bet. So I was stuck, at least for a while. And really, as I’d previously considered, this might be one way out of my situation.
The heat between us was undeniable, and though I had never been with a man before, I did know the power of the gaze and the body. I knew about beauty and want.
He’d come to my school to kidnap me, and kissed me deep and long in the process. If there was one thing I could say for the Greengallow brothers, their eyes gave away their lust.
Petre had revealed himself as a monster, but Vasile—although dark edged in his own ways—did not feel dangerous.
The gossip mill said many things about Vasile, about his intelligence, handsomeness, and shrewd business decisions, but I’d never once heard that he was twisted or unnatural like his brother. So far, the gossip mill was right on.
If he wanted me as much as I wanted him, perhaps I could use that very thing to my advantage.
It wasn’t in my nature to use my body to manipulate a man, or anyone else, but I was up against an impossible
situation, so my thoughts drifted back to my original plan.
If I could get him to kiss me like that again, it was entirely possible that I could seduce him into taking my virginity. I had no particular shame about doing so—I wanted him, and from what I felt, he wanted me, and it would surely be the experience of a lifetime to lose my virginity to someone so strong, so intense, and so clearly desirous of me as well.
If that is what was about to happen, then I would be damaged goods. l
It would be a compromise. Give my virginity to Vasile in order to escape a life with Petre.
Could I do it? Was I gutsy enough to pull it off?
Absolutely. If I kept my wits about me, I was positive I could keep control of the situation. I had few other assets besides my beauty, my title, and my virginity. To give up the last was a big decision. Would I rather let Vasile Greengallow deflower me and give up my reputation, or keep my reputation intact and marry his awful brother?
I inhaled keeping my breathing even, so as not to give him any sign that I was awake.
He smelled wonderful. He felt wonderful. He was a good-for-nothing gambler, a member of a lawless, criminal family, but I wasn’t going to marry him, for goodness sake. He would be a means to an end.
And what a means he was.
He tightened his grip on me and I let myself be embraced from behind, feeling tiny and delicate and safe for the first time in as long as I could remember. I would not be the victim in my own marriage. I would not continue to be as helpless as a pile of poker chips. I would take control of this situation and my life, finally. And I would do it by seducing Vasile Greengallow, at the very first opportunity that I had.
It was dark and still as he slowed his horse, and turned down an overgrown and unmarked drive.
Even in the low light I could see the thick tendrils of vines that wound through and around the iron gate. Between the dry winter vines, I was sure I could make out the purple background of a noble crest, but I wasn’t sure whose it was. Wherever we were, we weren’t at the Greengallow family home.
Wild Heir (Fated Royals Book 4) Page 5