by Tessa Dawn
To screw her blind, so to speak, until she lost her fragile sanity.
And then rinse and repeat…
Rinse and repeat.
Was that so wrong?
Such an unreasonable dream?
Oskar was weary. He had lived so many years. Hell, he was bored to tears half the time, and all he wanted was to enjoy a beautiful woman for as long as he could before his demonic offspring clawed their way out of her nubile body, decimated her ribs, and left a lifeless corpse in their wake.
Surely, that wasn’t too much to ask.
But as it stood, Oskar was a noble leader, a cut and caste above the rest. Sure, he was willing to manipulate the rules when necessary, to call upon the Dark Lords for the good of the Colony, but he had never petitioned the lords for his own selfish gain…asked for something as self-indulgent as the serum for his private, carnal use. And he was pretty damn sure Ademordna would slay him where he stood for defying the Dark Lord’s edict: The serum was meant to be used as a weapon; indeed, no one outside of the council even knew it existed.
Sighing, Oskar resigned himself to the use of the gold-foiled condoms.
He shrugged off his longings and smiled.
He might not have forever, but he had today.
He had tomorrow night.
And he would pick Natalia up at eight o’clock sharp, take her to a dark, secluded hideaway where the moonlight shone bright, and finally consummate their union with the assistance of a blasted rubber.
He picked up a golden wrapper and turned it over in his hand, thumbing the brittle edges of the foil. Yes, indeed, Oskar would adapt.
So be it.
This time tomorrow, he would adapt inside Natalia.
Chapter Nine
Still dazed and overwhelmed, Natalia Giovanni sat cross-legged on her gold-and-lavender coverlet, staring at the sleek silver burner phone that Santos had provided her, trying to make sense of all that had transpired over the past few hours.
Nothing seemed real.
In the blink of an eye, her life had become a dreamscape—or a nightmare, depending on one’s perspective—and Natalia was having a very hard time making even the smallest adjustment, let alone agreeing to the insanity that was Santos’ universe. “Be careful what you ask for,” her personal maid, Sylvia, had always told her. “You just might get it.” Truer words had never been spoken, but Natalia hadn’t asked for this.
She had not asked to be claimed by a vampire.
She had not asked to be some immortal warrior’s pre-fated destiny.
And she had not asked to change her existence, give up her life, and adopt a new identity at that immortal vampire’s insistence. Good lord, Santos had spoken of so many incomprehensible things like conversion, sacrifice, a forty-eight-hour pregnancy. He had given her three days to process the whole of it, to somehow come to terms with it, and to move to Dark Moon Vale…as if she could just pick up and relocate without batting an eyelash.
Beyond the absurdity of moving, he believed he could do the impossible.
Something no one had ever attempted before…
Should his vampire-king allow it, Santos believed he could lay waste to The Fortress this Sunday—in under fifteen minutes. He could set the female captives free, without suffering a single casualty, and unshackle Natalia from Luca’s control, perhaps even spare her from Oskar Vadovsky.
Well, truth be told, she hadn’t uttered a word to Santos about her detestable fiancé, other than the pitiful lie she had told, claiming that Oskar lived abroad, and she had never even met him. Of course, before the night had ended, Santos had asked about her engagement—somehow, he had even known Oskar’s first name, not all that surprising for such an expert hacker—but Natalia had decided to leave well enough alone…to let sleeping dogs lie. Santos had not been the least bit concerned about some human male on the other side of the world, a man, he assumed, Natalia was never going to meet. The vampire was determined to bring Natalia to Dark Moon Vale as quickly as possible, and he was equally confident in his celestial gods…in the inherent power of this surreal Blood Moon.
Natalia didn’t dare tell him otherwise at this point.
There was no reason to give him Oskar’s full name.
Besides, she didn’t want to complicate matters by provoking a supernatural creature’s territorial instincts, waving a red flag in front of a paranormal bull, especially since Natalia didn’t know what she planned to do. What if fate had a wicked sense of humor, and this Blood Curse was the worst fate imaginable? What if she needed Oskar, after all, to save her from Santos?
A stone-cold human killer to protect her from a vampire…
She was so damned confused.
Relying on Oskar Vadovsky?
What the hell was she thinking!
Natalia didn’t want any of this.
None of it was copasetic—or doable.
Every last bit of it was certifiably insane.
Natalia did not belong to Santos Olaru, Delphinus, the goddess, or some ancient Blood Moon. She couldn’t possibly leave her life in an instant and just take up house with a complete stranger, let alone a preternatural being.
She clasped her right hand over her left wrist, unable to bear the sight of the enigmatic markings a moment longer, simultaneously trying to ignore the subtle tingling in her neck, the place where Santos had bit her on the throat.
“Argh,” she groaned, freaked out by the very thought of it, even as the memory of those lips, that tongue…his warm, talented mouth…left her clammy and unsettled.
The man had siphoned her blood.
No, the vampire had savored her blood.
He had said something about being able to track her, knowing where she was at all times, at least until Sunday, but there was far more to it than that—his bite had been dominant as well as sensual, as possessive as it had been erotic. He had meant to stake his claim, capture her heart, and consume her soul, all three in one; and he had used a primitive…seductive…bestial rite of feeding to do so. She shivered, feeling as if she’d never be warm again, and as if on cue, her burner phone lit up with a six-word text, set apart on three separate lines:
Natalia girl…
You there?
You good?
The shiver deepened in response to his casual, friendly words—it was almost as if the two were already intimate, as if they had known each other for years. Her hand rose absently to the vein in her neck, and her throat tingled with latent, erotic energy.
You there?
She knew she had to answer, or he might just show up in her bedroom.
You good?
What the heck kind of question was that?
No, Natalia was anything but good.
She picked up the phone and texted a candid reply: Alone in my bedroom. Still processing everything. As good as can be expected. She pressed send, and then she remembered her manners—not that she owed the vampire anything, but until she decided what she intended to do, it would be better to appease him than oppose him. And you? How are you doing? Her throat constricted as she typed the last four words—every cell in her body resented this surreal encounter.
A moment of silence passed with no reply; then Santos typed: I miss you.
Natalia gulped.
She wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.
Do you have details ready for me yet? he asked next.
Natalia sighed. In addition to already knowing her itinerary for the month of June—he had stolen her schedule when he slipped inside her computer—Santos wanted to know every fine detail, spanning the next three days: who was in the house—guards, servants, visitors, you name it—every time she planned to step foot outside the mansion, whether going to the salon, the grocery store, or just to take a dip in the hot tub. He wanted her to stay home, in her room if possible, until the raid on The Fortress was over on Sunday, but he understood that her family—and her father—would likely become suspicious if her routine changed too dramatically. He had also i
ndicated a desire to tail her, but the work involved in planning the raid, in mobilizing and attacking in such a short span of time, required the vampire’s full attention. He needed to devote his time and energy to devising strategy and marshalling his fellow warriors, whomever they might be.
Natalia bit down hard on her lower lip.
Undoubtedly, they were an entire coven of blood-suckers…
She couldn’t believe she was thinking such words, let alone considering them as if they were real. Ah, but real they were, and she had the mark of Delphinus on her wrist to prove it.
Before she could reply, there was a gentle knock on her bedroom door, and Sylvia’s soft, lyrical voice drifted through the panel. “Miss Talia, it’s Sylvie; may I come in? I have a message from your papa, and we need to select a dress for tomorrow evening. I’m sorry to interrupt you so late at night, but I’d like to steam and press it before I head home. I have several personal errands to run tomorrow.”
Natalia furrowed her brow.
What in the world?
Who needed to pick out a dress at eleven o’clock at night—and what was happening tomorrow? Natalia had nothing on her schedule for Friday evening. She palmed her burner phone, tapped on the screen to reopen Santos’ last message, and rapidly tap-tap-tapped on the keyboard:
Maid is here.
Just knocked on door.
Needs to tell me something.
BRB.
For the space of several heartbeats, Natalia felt the oddest sensation, like a cool winter’s breeze wafting through her chest and swirling around her throat as if emanating from her blood. The cool, icy draft shifted to warmth and then just as swiftly retreated.
Was Santos…
Was Santos what?
Seeking information from her blood?
She glanced around her bedroom in a quick, furtive peek, almost prepared to see a ghostly apparition floating through the air: a ghostly apparition with crystal-blue eyes, pearly white teeth, and stunning black-and-blond hair.
Could vampires do that?
Did Santos have some extrasensory radar connected to her blood?
She shuddered.
She would have to be so very careful, if and when she told him half-truths—when she wanted to hide her feelings or maintain some modicum of privacy…of dignity; when there were things she simply wasn’t ready for the vampire to know. She didn’t fully understand what their blood-bond meant, but it had definitely given him access to something more than she was ready to relinquish…
Natalia would be the one to decide what Santos did—or did not—know.
No one—and nothing—else.
“Come in,” she said to Sylvia, stuffing the phone beneath a gold-and-red embroidered pillow and tugging on the sleeve of her nightgown to make sure the markings on her wrist were well and truly hidden.
The five-foot-two spitfire quickly wrenched the knob and shot into the bedroom. Sylvia never moved slowly—she darted around like a hummingbird, always intent on her duties and full of boundless energy, even this close to midnight. She was as thin as she was short, and she kept her midnight-black hair cropped short, but there was something timeless in her keen, smoky gray eyes, something that reminded Natalia of the dark side of the moon: deep, wise, and ripe with hidden secrets. “Did I wake you?” Sylvia asked, eyeing Natalia sideways before stopping dead in her tracks.
She saw something.
She always saw something.
“You were already up, weren’t you? Your bed is still made.” She answered her own question. “Are you having trouble sleeping, Miss Talia?” She planted both hands on her hips. “And why are you wearing a long-sleeve nightgown in June? Are you feeling well, Tesoro?”
Natalia laughed, trying desperately to act as natural as possible. “Sylvia, I’m feeling fine. And yes, I was still up—I took a late shower.”
Sylvia wrinkled her nose and stepped closer to the bed, her wise eyes narrowing to slits. “Where is your laptop?” She eyed the armoire, then turned her attention to Natalia’s dresser. “And the TV isn’t on. So what? You’re just sitting on the bed, staring into space?”
“Sylvia,” Natalia groaned, drawing out her name. “I’m fine. I was just—”
“What’s wrong, Miss Talia?”
Natalia drew a slow, deep breath, searching for a way to appease the insightful housekeeper. “Sylvia, I was saying my prayers.”
The maid cocked her head to the side.
“What?” Natalia said. “I can’t pray? I had a…a very relaxing massage earlier. And I just felt like…you know…spending some quiet time in prayer.”
“Hmm,” Sylvia murmured. “I see.”
Oh lord, Natalia thought, the woman saw too much! “At any rate, what’s this business about a dress? I don’t have anything on my schedule for tomorrow evening.” Praying, for real this time, that the not-so-subtle shift in subjects would work, Natalia held up both hands. “And you said something about a message from my father—what is it? What’s going on?” She practically held her breath.
Sylvia’s smoky gray eyes deepened to charcoal as she strolled to a nearby chest of drawers, swiped at a nonexistent smattering of dust with two fingers, then turned around, leaned back, and crossed her skinny arms over her ample chest. She sighed, long and hollow. “I’m afraid you have a date tomorrow night.”
Natalia leaned forward and furrowed her brows. “You mean an appointment? With whom?”
Sylvia shook her head slowly. “No, Miss Talia, not an appointment. I mean you have a date.”
Natalia struggled to keep up.
A date?
Natalia didn’t date.
She was promised to be married to—oh, shit.
Her mouth dropped open and she sank back on the bed. “A date with Oskar? He’s coming to the house?” That was the last thing she wanted—or needed: to see her creepy fiancé tomorrow night, especially with everything that was going on. Not only did the man give her the willies, but Santos was practically embedded in her head—or her blood—whatever the case may be, and she had lied about the fact that Oskar was in her life…that he lived in the United States.
How in the world was she going to get through a long, drawn-out dinner with Oskar Vadovsky, Luca Giovanni, and heaven-knew who else, without sending out a ton of distressing signals to a territorial vampire?
She would think about that later.
“So why the fancy dress?” she asked. “Who else is coming to the house?”
Sylvia shook her head again, far more adamantly now. “Miss Talia; you’re not hearing what I’m telling you. You have a formal date with Oskar Vadovsky. He is sending a car for you at eight o’clock sharp. Your father finally gave him permission to see you…alone…and he is taking you out for the night.”
Natalia frowned, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach.
She had always known this day would come. She was going to have to spend private time with Oskar at some point, and that point was likely sooner than later—but her father was very traditional when it came to Natalia’s honor and her reputation. Until now, her time with the terrifying brute had always been chaperoned. The two of them had never been alone, and frankly, she hadn’t expected it to happen prior to their wedding night. “You’re kidding…” The words were merely a whisper.
Sylvia bit her lip, then forced a tight, pitiful smile. “It would seem he is taking you somewhere special, so we need a formal—or at least an elegant—gown. Oskar’s request.”
This time, it was Natalia who shook her head, and then she rolled her eyes. “No.” She sounded like a two-year-old, and if she had been standing, she might have even stomped her foot. “Just…no.”
Sylvia didn’t try to fake any more good humor. “I know,” she acquiesced, “it’s…it’s soon…it’s unexpected…it’s got to be a little awkward.”
“It’s gross,” Natalia clarified, cutting to the chase.
“Well, okay, perhaps…but he is your intended, and you have to be alone with him at som
e point.”
Natalia’s shoulders drooped. “I’d rather be alone with an alligator in a swamp or stuck in a cage at the zoo with a bear.” Forgetting about the burner phone behind her, she snatched the lacy, embroidered pillow and hugged it to her chest like a child, clinging desperately to the inanimate object for reassurance. Fortunately, her adult neurons began firing; she remembered the hidden burner phone; and she leaned back against the padded white satin headboard before Sylvia noticed the device.
Not that the maid would have asked any questions.
And she certainly would not have told Luca!
But Natalia was more than just a little bit paranoid…
“I’ll never get used to him, Sylvie,” she groaned.
Sylvia wrung her dainty hands together until at last her expression brightened. “Well, there is one bright spot in this…unlikely engagement: Oskar is rather handsome, Natalia. Very handsome, actually. And he’s very well off. Plus, he does seem to care for you. He can give you the kind of life you deserve; take you to all kinds of wonderful places; and fill your future home with gorgeous bambini. Perhaps, if you—”
“Stop,” Natalia interrupted. “Just stop.” She gave Sylvia a sympathetic nod, understanding that the kindly woman was only trying to cheer her up, but honestly, they both knew how creepy Oskar was. “He’s incredibly handsome,” she admitted, “if you’re into the overbearing, Lord of the Flies, Jack the Ripper type. Oh, and if you don’t mind the whole possessed by an evil spirit thing, then yeah, he’s quite the catch.”
Sylvia crossed herself and stared at the ground. “Sì, Miss Talia.” She whispered something pious in Italian. “I’m sorry, Tesoro—you deserve better than him.”
Natalia stiffened her lip and steeled her resolve. “Well,” she muttered, determined to let it go, “we may as well get on with it.” She gestured toward the closet and forced a half-hearted smile, trying to lighten the mood—after all, it wasn’t Sylvia’s fault, and it was only one night. Natalia could endure a single date with Oskar. “Maybe we can find an all-black ensemble with a stiff collar and tails, something that comes with a similar pointed hat and broom. At least that way, Oskar and I will match.”