So good, Aeran groaned long seconds later through the brothers’ mental link.
Perfection, Rhys agreed as they took their precious mate into their arms.
Cristina had never felt as cherished as she did lying with her head on Aeran’s shoulder and Rhys cuddled up against her back.
Cherished.
And safe.
“Your mates would know instantly and rip me apart if I did anything to harm you,” Nikolai Volkov drawled as Cristina came to an abrupt halt in the kitchen doorway late the following morning.
Cristina had woken up half an hour or so ago to find the bed warm either side of her but both of her mates absent. Considering the bedside clock said it was after ten in the morning, that wasn’t so surprising.
A note left on one of the pillows told her Aeran and Rhys had taken over from some of their brothers and were now out looking for Vasile Fescaru, and that there was coffee and toast in the kitchen if she wanted them.
Considering at least a dozen other people lived in the castle Cristina hadn’t expected to find Nikolai Volkov alone in the kitchen. Or wanted to see him again at all, if she was honest.
But now that she had, she wasn’t about to run away. Instead, she stepped farther into the kitchen to pour herself a mug of coffee from the pot before answering him. “And don’t think I wouldn’t pay to watch that.” She leaned back against one of the kitchen units as she sipped her coffee.
“My wife and daughter would not be happy if that should happen,” he murmured. “And a pissed-off Daisy is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. Which, despite what you might think otherwise, you aren’t.”
Cristina’s eyes widened. “You’re married?”
He chuckled. “Very much so. We have a three-year-old daughter and another baby on the way. We are having a son this time.”
Cristina was too surprised to be able to hide it. This man gave the impression of being completely self-contained, his only loyalty to Gregori Markovic and, to a latter degree, the Pendragon brothers and their mates. Which now included Cristina.
Volkov reached into the breast pocket of his jacket to take out his wallet. He opened it before placing it down on the tabletop. “My wife and daughter.” He invited her to look at the photograph on display.
Cristina wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. It was much easier to think of this man as a cold-blooded murderer when she hadn’t known he had a wife and daughter. Actually seeing a photo of that wife and daughter and hearing Volkov’s love for them in his voice made him all too human. But perhaps that was the point he was trying to make.
“We’re all monsters, Cristina,” he said softly. “But our saving grace is the love we have for our family and they have for us. Your father loved you. He protected you in the only way he knew how, which was to keep you completely separate from that other side of his life. Everything else is bullshit.”
“But you said—”
“Because you needed to know the truth, not because I had any wish to hurt you.”
Cristina made a tentative step forward. “Does your wife know what you do?”
He straightened. “She does. She loves me anyway.”
Cristina looked down at the open wallet. It showed a beautiful blonde-haired woman and an equally cute blonde-haired little girl. “Aren’t you afraid for them? Of what might happen to them because of who you are?”
“Every minute of every day.” His confirmation was abrupt.
Cristina frowned. “Then why put them in that position?”
His jaw tightened. “I initially tried to send Daisy away because of that fear. But my Daisy is not a woman to be told what to do. She wanted me. She was determined to have me. A man can only fight his own feelings, and the love of a woman as determined as Daisy, for so long.” An affectionate smile now curved those sculpted lips. “Daisy battered down every objection I made to the two of us being together. It helps that she is ex-military and has so many brothers, also military trained, no one would dare mess with her or anyone she loves,” he added ruefully. “Daisy is bodyguard to Gregori’s wife, Gaia, and their two children. As I am bodyguard to Gregori.”
“He’s married too?” This became weirder and weirder.
The Russian nodded. “To a woman as emotionally strong as Daisy.”
Cristina gave another glance at the photograph. “Your little girl is beautiful.”
Nikolai’s expression softened even more. “Natasha is like her mother.”
“She looks like you.”
Pale blond brows rose. “I have gone from being a monster to beautiful?”
Cristina gave him a narrow-eyed glance. “I didn’t say that. Only that your daughter is gorgeous and looks like you.”
The Russian shrugged. “Same thing.”
It was slightly surreal to be having this conversation with the man who had admitted to being responsible for her father’s death.
Nikolai picked up his wallet, long fingers lightly caressing the leather as if caressing the photograph of the woman and child inside it before he put it back in the breast pocket of his jacket. “Your mates are good men. All the Pendragon brothers are.”
Cristina sat opposite him at the table. “It’s a big jump from being the daughter of a member of the Romanian Mafia to now being the mate of two dragon shifters who have been alive for sixteen hundred years.” She gave him a sharp glance. “I’m guessing you already knew that?”
Nikolai smiled. “I know all there is to know about the Pendragon brothers.”
“Because that’s your thing? Information.”
He nodded. “That’s my thing. As men, they are all honorable and fierce. As dragons, they are magnificent creatures and even more fierce.”
“Yes, they are,” she acknowledged huskily. “And totally out of the realm of what we, as humans, consider real.”
Nikolai’s smile widened. “That is what Gregori and I most like about them.”
“You—” She turned as there was a flurry of movement behind her.
Nathaniel stood in the kitchen doorway. “We have Vasile,” he announced economically.
Nikolai stood before crossing the room to join the other man. “I would like to question him first.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “If you can get past Aeran and Rhys, be my guest.”
Nikolai chuckled. “Where are they?”
“In the dungeon.”
The Russian’s brows rose. “There really is a dungeon?”
“It’s a medieval castle. Of course there’s a dungeon,” Nathaniel dismissed as the two men left the kitchen, Cristina obviously forgotten.
She wasn’t sure she particularly liked being dismissed in that way, nor did she have any intention of being left behind. Instead, she followed the two men at a safe distance as they went down some stone steps into the bowels of the castle.
To the dungeon where they were holding Vasile Fescaru prisoner.
Cristina shivered slightly as she stood back in the shadows of the stone passageway watching as the two men entered a room next to a barred and empty cell. It was cold down here, but the room they had entered had all sorts of metal devices hanging on the walls. Torture devices that looked as if they came straight from the medieval age the Pendragon brothers had been born into.
A man wearing a suit sat on a chair in the center of that room, his hands tied behind his back. His likeness to Cristina’s father was unmistakable: dark hair liberally streaked with gray, pale green eyes, his still-handsome face all sharp angles. He didn’t have any visible injuries, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.
Cristina had no doubt this man was her father’s cousin, Vasile Fescaru.
Aeran and Rhys loomed over him, one standing threateningly on either side of him.
“Vasile,” Nikolai greeted as he strode confidently into the room.
“Volkov,” the other man acknowledged but kept a wary eye on Rhys and Aeran. “I want to see Cristina—” He broke off as Rhys placed a hand about his throat.
&nb
sp; “You will not be allowed anywhere near our mate,” Rhys growled. “Do you understand me?” He shook the other man.
“He can’t answer you if you’re strangling him, Rhys,” Nikolai pointed out calmly. Rhys eased his grip only fractionally as Nikolai went down on his haunches in front of the Romanian. “What did you not understand about Gregori’s warning to stay well away from Cristina Petran?” Nikolai’s tone might be mildly enquiring, but the hard and deadly glitter of his pale gray eyes told a different story.
Cristina gave a shiver as both her mates glanced toward the open doorway where she was hiding in the shadows, telling her they were both aware of her presence.
Vasile shook his head. “You are the one who does not understand. None of you do.” His glance encompassed all the men in the room.
“Then enlighten us, Vasile,” the Russian invited smoothly. “Explain to us why you dared to go against Gregori’s instructions.”
The Romanian turned away, staring at the stone wall opposite. “I want to see Cristina.”
“And we told you that isn’t going to happen,” Aeran growled.
Vasile looked up at him. “Did I fight being taken prisoner? Did I put up any resistance at all to being brought here? Did any of my men? No. Because they were instructed not to do so.”
Aeran’s gaze narrowed. “What does that prove?”
“That I’m not here to hurt Cristina. I just—I want to see her. I need to see her.”
Cristina was now as puzzled as the four men in the room with Vasile.
He hadn’t resisted capture.
Or being brought here.
Nor had any of his men, on his instruction.
Why had he done those things when he must know that Nikolai was responsible for the death of his predecessor?
And why was Vasile so determined to see her?
Not just determined, but needed to see her.
Chapter 13
Do not risk another spanking by entering this room, mate, Rhys’s voice growled inside her head.
You do not need to witness any of this. Aeran sounded just as angry.
And if they could now both speak mentally to her through their mating bond…
I’m not scared of either of you, she told them defiantly.
You will be, Rhys assured with unmistakable grimness.
And so will your arse, Aeran warned.
I’ll look forward to it, she challenged. For now, I’m coming in, she added before stepping into the room.
Rhys and Aeran looked furious at her deliberate disobedience.
Nikolai appeared only mildly surprised she’d followed them.
Nathaniel’s expression was unreadable, as usual.
Vasile Fescaru gasped, his face paling as he stared at Cristina as if seeing a ghost.
Cristina looked back at him calmly. “I believe you wished to see me, Mr. Fescaru?” Angry with her or not, Aeran and Rhys automatically took up a stance of protection as they moved to stand either side of her.
The Romanian’s throat moved at he swallowed before speaking. “I don’t— You are— I saw the likeness instantly on the security recordings from Cezar’s apartment, but the color of your hair and eyes—” He gave a dazed shake of his head. “You are so much like Ana.”
“My mother?” Cezar had talked to Cristina of her mother, of course, once Cristina was old enough to demand answers. But he had no photographs to share with her, so Cristina had no idea whether she resembled her mother or not.
This man seemed to think she did.
“You knew my mother.” This time it was a statement, not a question.
The man’s expression softened as he continued to stare at her. “Yes, I knew her.”
“As the mother of your cousin’s child?”
Vasile’s expression hardened, his eyes glittering with anger. “As the love of my life and mother of my child.”
Cristina gave a shake of her head. “I don’t understand…”
The Romanian’s expression grew bleak. “Ana was three months pregnant, our wedding only days away, when I was arrested and thrown in prison for a crime I did not commit. Yes, I had committed many other crimes,” he acknowledged as one of the other men in the room—Nikolai?—gave a scathing snort. “But not that one. Unfortunately, the evidence against me was overwhelming, and I was sentenced to ten years in prison.”
For the third time in a matter of days, Cristina felt the fabric of her life shift beneath her feet.
First, by the realization her father, the only constant in her life, was never coming back.
Second, by Aeran and Rhys claiming she was their fated mate.
Thirdly, by this man, Vasile Fescaru, and the things he was saying… The implication of what he was saying…
“Cezar had always wanted Ana for himself, but I had to put aside my jealousy once I was sent to prison, knowing he was the one person who could keep Ana and my child safe until I was released,” Vasile continued as the silence in the room grew heavy with expectation. “I did not want Ana to visit me there, felt it was bad for both her and the baby. But Cezar visited me once a month to tell me how Ana was. On the sixth month, he told me—“ His throat moved as he swallowed. “He told me my Ana had died in childbirth, the child along with her. My life stopped that day.” He closed his lids, tears falling down his lined cheeks when he opened them again. “Then two days ago, I watched the security recordings from Cezar’s apartment, and I saw Cristina. Your age, your facial likeness to Ana, the name Cristina—it was my mother’s name—and I knew exactly who you were, that Ana had named our daughter after her.”
Cristina glanced in Nikolai Volkov’s direction—the man who seemed to have all the information at his fingertips—and received a confirming nod regarding Vasile’s mother’s name.
“Cezar lied to me. Not about Ana, but about you.” Vasile gazed at Cristina as if she was Ana’s ghost come back to life.
Or something else…
Cristina was grateful to Rhys and Aeran as they both put a supporting arm about her waist, because her knees were threatening to buckle beneath her.
Cezar had kept her hidden away in a house in a remote part of Romania during her childhood, with only Elena and Dumitru for company, and with occasional visits from Cezar himself. She had been homeschooled, never stepping outside that safe bubble. Until she took things into her own hands three years ago and came to England to attend university. Cezar had been furious with her for disobeying him, but Cristina had been adamant she wasn’t going back to that lonely and secluded life.
Cristina had believed Cezar had done all those things to protect her from his enemies, but what if he had kept her hidden away and guarded for another reason entirely?
To hide her existence from her real father.
Had Cezar really been so much of a monster he had fabricated evidence so that Vasile was sent to prison? So that he could steal this man’s woman and child from him? Had Cezar stolen her?
She refocused on Vasile Fescaru. The way he was looking at her… It was… “Ana’s child didn’t die,” she told him huskily. “I didn’t die.”
A sob caught at the back of the man’s throat, the tears continuing to fall down the grooves in his cheeks. “My child didn’t die.”
Cristina drew in a long and shaky breath. “Release him,” she instructed as she continued to stare as Vasile. “I said release him!” she repeated firmly when no one moved.
Nikolai was the one to step forward, a knife having appeared in one of his lethal hands, which he used to cut the rope about Vasile’s wrists before stepping back.
The other man stood shakily, not taking his eyes off Cristina for even a second. “I did not come here to hurt Cristina,” he stated evenly. “I came to claim her as the daughter I had long believed dead, along with my beloved Ana.”
Shit, Aeran spoke to Rhys through their bond.
This is so fucked up, Rhys agreed.
But undeniably the truth, Cristina joined in their mental conversation.
Are you well, mate? Rhys prompted.
Cristina? Aeran sounded as worried.
Cristina wasn’t sure what she was feeling right now. Shocked and stunned, certainly, but with an underlying relief she wasn’t the biological daughter of the monster she now knew Cezar Fescaru to be.
Oh, she had no doubts that Cezar had loved her as the daughter of Ana, the woman he had wanted for himself. But he had lied to her, had lied to Vasile for all these years too, so that he could be Cristina’s father. He had not only robbed Vasile of ten years of his life spent in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, but he had also allowed the other man to suffer the torments of hell, believing Ana and his daughter were both dead.
What Cezar had done to Vasile was beyond monstrous.
It was unforgiveable.
I’m well, she reassured Rhys and Aeran calmly. But I believe I would like some time alone to talk with…with my father.
No. Rhys’s answer was instant and final.
He could be lying, Cristina. Aeran’s tone was more reasonable. It could be a trick so that he can be alone with you.
It isn’t, she came back with certainty.
But—
It isn’t, Cristina insisted, knowing that no one could fabricate the agony in Vasile’s face when he told them he had believed Ana and his child were both dead. Or the wondrous joy now in his eyes as he continued to look at her.
She stepped forward. “I’m going to take Vasile upstairs now.” Her tone brooked no argument from any of them. “If you could all allow us some privacy?” She didn’t wait for their answer before putting her hand in the crook of Vasile’s arm and taking him with her as she left the room.
No one followed them.
Which wasn’t to say Cristina wasn’t completely aware of Rhys’s and Aeran’s presence outside the closed door of the sitting room as she and Vasile talked. Both of her mates ready, at a moment’s notice, to burst through that door in her defense.
It wasn’t necessary, Vasile’s assurance he only wanted to see her, to speak with her, proving to be the case. The two of them talked for over an hour. Of Ana. Of the love she and Vasile had for one another. Their joy when they discovered Ana was having their child. Of Vasile’s heartbreak when he believed they had both died. In return, Cristina had told Vasile about her own life, as a child and as an adult. Each word confirmed that Cezar had been hiding her existence from Vasile, no one else.
Aeran & Rhys (Dragon Hearts 7) Page 11