I wake buried under a mountain of covers. A yawn steals over me as I push the blankets away and squint at the morning sun. I look over at the chair in my room, but Vlad is no longer there. Vaguely, I remember him carrying me to bed after I fell asleep.
Everything hurts.
I feel bruised and used.
But I also feel good too.
My pussy hurts, but triumph surges through me. I did it. I managed to distract and get the great Vlad Vasiliev to fuck me so he won’t kill my sister. Easy. I’m a genius.
Except now, I feel like I’ve made things ten times more complicated. Sure, I allowed my sister to sleep with Ven without interruption by distracting her fiancé into taking my virginity, and if that isn’t screwed up, I don’t know what is.
I slide out of my bed and rush over to my painting. It’s crude and messy, but I love it. Vlad, asleep and vulnerable. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, except the real thing, of course. I could stare at him like this for hours.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Irina,” Diana calls out on the other side of the door. It’s then I realize it’s closed and locked. I didn’t panic. I felt safe last night. The thought is surprising, and I tuck it away to ponder later.
“Coming!” I shove the canvas under the bed and rush over to the door.
When I open it, she is a picture of perfection. She no longer wears a scarf, but she’s covered her love bite with makeup. “Good morning, lazy buns. Do you know what time it is?”
I shrug. “No. Why?”
“It’s just not like you to sleep the day away. Especially with all that banging going on down the hall.” She sighs as she regards me. “Thank you.”
I lift my brows. “For what?”
“For distracting Vlad. I knew you were trying to protect me. I’ve been careless, and I’m sorry you felt you needed to pick up the slack. Thanks for distracting him.” She looks around and eyes the paints on the floor. “Yuri said you were painting Vlad for me. Where’s the painting?”
“Uh, he took it. You can’t see your wedding gift early,” I say in exasperation. I quickly change the subject. “Did you…?”
She blinks slowly and smiles. “We took the stolen opportunity, yes. Made love, and then I sent him away from my room before anyone would notice.” She toys with a lock of messy hair that’s fallen loose from my bun. “One day, you’ll understand what it feels like to have sex. It’s unlike anything you’ll ever experience.”
Oh, do I know…
“Sounds interesting,” I murmur.
“It hurts at first,” she tells me, her brows furling. “My first time, I cried. A lot.” She shudders, and for a brief moment, my sister looks haggard. Broken and depressed. I hate the look on her. This is not my Diana. “But you grow to love it. It’s like they get inside your mind and live there. They say all the right things that sing to your heart.” She sighs. “Love is painful sometimes.”
“Diana,” I start, but the words fall short. “I just want you to be happy.”
Her nostrils flare, and she frowns. “Happiness isn’t with Vlad Vasiliev. I knew this when I agreed to marry him.” I note the bitterness in her tone. It’s so strange to me because I feel the opposite. Last night, Vlad uncovered a new part of me. Those hours after we had sex and I painted him, I felt closer to him than I ever felt toward anyone. Even Diana.
“I think happiness can be found with Vlad,” I murmur, my words more for me than her.
“You’ve much to learn, Shadow.” She kisses me on the head and starts for the door. “I want to meet later. We have to make a new game plan now that Father has made a mess of things.”
“Of course. We’ll figure it out,” I assure her.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and then she’s gone. As soon as she leaves, I walk into the bathroom and look at my reflection. I’m a terrible person. Lying to my sister. Fucking her fiancé behind her back. Ugh. I peel off my tank top. Maybe a shower will cleanse away this dirty feeling. When I notice the paint across my abdomen, I gasp.
Mine.
Black paint.
Neat, precise writing.
I run my fingers across the letters and can’t fight the smile on my lips. This game Vlad and I are playing…I like it. I like it a lot.
Unlike at the recent V Games, I just hope a Volkov doesn’t lose to a Vasiliev.
Something tells me silly, hopeful girls shouldn’t be playing with violent, masterful men.
Perhaps in some games there are two winners…
I clench my thighs and wince at the lingering pain.
Perhaps not.
There’s a different atmosphere around here today. But I’m not sure if it’s just that I feel different—more like a woman, yet the giddy feeling of being a girl as well. It’s different. I walk into the kitchen to find Vika and Vlad in a heated discussion. Diana is standing close by with her arms folded across her chest and a look of annoyance on her pretty pursed lips.
“What’s going on?” I ask her in a hushed tone, budging up next to her.
“Vika being a petulant child as usual,” she hisses.
I drag my eyes back over to the two of them. Vlad’s pulse ticks in his neck and his jaw is clenched. His eyes are fire and brimstone as he peers down at his sister. She appears to realize she’s poking a tiger in his own cage and deflates.
“Fine,” she concedes with an exasperated huff. “I’ll go. Diana can accompany me.” She turns her sickly smile in our direction, and Diana smiles tightly back at her. “We are going to be sisters, after all.”
“Of course, I’d love to help pick out your dress,” Diana says sweetly. “Maybe I can shop for my own while we’re there.”
Images of Diana wearing a wedding dress standing beside Vlad conjure up in my mind and I wilt inside. A dying flower starved of light. She will be a beautiful bride.
“It’s a long trip, so pack an overnight bag,” Vika tells Diana on her way out of the kitchen, tossing her scarf over her shoulder and whipping me in the face with it. Bitch.
“Perfect,” Diana huffs out, following Vika’s exit.
I watch the door close softly behind her, then turn my gaze on Vlad, who is staring back at me, a fierce hunger in his eyes.
We’re alone.
Being alone with him makes my skin heat and my body burn from the inside out.
“How did you sleep?” he asks, the rasp in his throat signaling the equal effect I have on him. My head swims and heat spreads throughout my stomach, pooling in my core.
“Fine, thank you,” I squeak out, my nerves rattling me. “Sheesh, I’m starving. Would you like some breakfast? Can I fix you something?” I escape his nearness and hurry over to the fridge. My legs feel heavy, like I’m dragging lead weights across the room.
His shoes squeak across the tile behind me, signaling his approach. “It’s noon, Irina,” he says lowly, a husky growl rumbling through him. “But yes, I could eat.” With that, he blocks the way between me and the refrigerator, grasps me under the arms, and sits me on the edge of the counter.
“Vlad!” I whisper-yell, placing my hands on his shoulders to push him away. His strength is no match for me. He forces my legs to part and wedges himself between them. “Diana could come back!” I say desperately.
Ignoring my worry, he slaps the counter on either side of my legs. “Lie back,” he instructs. When I gape at him, he pushes my dress up my thighs and starts tugging down my panties. Wearing dresses has never been my thing, but I must say, they’ve been awfully convenient lately. I take back everything negative I ever thought about them.
My heart hammers inside my chest and my head swims with need, fear, and excitement all rolled into one. He lifts my feet and places them on the edge of the counter, opening me up for his eyes to devour. My panties get shoved into his pocket for safekeeping. Embarrassment washes through me, but it’s replaced with a groan when he dips his head and kisses me between my thighs. I gasp and collapse back onto the counter, the cold surface penetrating my fevered flesh through the fabric of my dress.
Oh God.
His greedy mouth. His hot, slick tongue. His powerful, wandering hands.
Too much.
He feasts on me, like I’m a buffet laid out just for him. And I am. Just. For. Him. Warm laps of his tongue travel the length of my lips, separating them and finding the throbbing clit hidden away inside.
I grasp the side of the counter to ground myself. I feel like I’m floating away on a cloud of ecstasy. Do all men do this? Does it always feel this good?
My back arches as he sucks my clit into his mouth. I feel a swirling building in my stomach and heat spreading throughout my body in waves. Something prods at my opening, and then I’m filled with what I believe to be his finger. It hurts and pleasures in the same breath. I’m flying. I’m going to come undone right here on the kitchen counter.
I startle when the kitchen door opens and a male voice chokes out, “Blyad, prostite, gospodin.” Fuck, sorry, sir.
I hurry to sit up and frantically push my dress down to hide what we’ve been doing. Vlad stares at me wolfishly, a sheen of my juices coating his mouth.
He’s the hunter and I’m the prey.
Vlad murmurs an order meant for only me to hear. “Zakroy svoi glaza, solntce moyo.” Close your eyes, my sun.
My insides cramp with worry and I can’t do as he asks. Instead, I watch in guilt-ridden horror as he prowls toward the man who backs up knowing he’s walked into something he won’t walk out of.
“Vlad,” he pleads, but Vlad is quick, silent, and as deadly as they come. His arm snaps out, landing a closed fist to the man’s throat. The man gasps in shock and grasps at his larynx, making a wheezing sound. His eyes are wide and panicked. Vlad rounds him, slipping something from his pocket and clasping an arm around the man, putting him in a headlock.
Fast, efficient jabs to the neck, the object shines when the light catches it. It’s a knife. Not the fish hook one. A different one—one with their crest etched into it. The imperial two-headed eagle. The man sags in his arms, blood spurting from the wounds in his neck.
Normally unemotional, calm eyes blaze with wildness. Vlad’s expression is crazed for a moment before he blinks it away and releases the man. He falls to the floor with a thud, blood puddling around him.
I stare for a second until I think I’ll be sick. Bile races up my throat, and I jump down from the counter to rush to the sink. I retch, and tears spring to my eyes. I’ve seen men killed before—hell, even women, by Vlad’s hand, no less—but this was not because of something they did. It was for something we did. I did. He was protecting us—the awful things we were doing. That means I’m a monster too.
“Irina,” Vlad says, his voice quiet and collected. Fingers run down my spine, offering me comfort. “He has a loose tongue. He would have talked.” He continues to stroke me, and I wonder if he’s smearing blood all over my clothes.
I shudder and nod, wiping a hand across my mouth. “I know,” I tell him, because I do. I quickly wash my hands, but it doesn’t clean away the dirtiness I feel all over right now.
“Go help Diana pack for tonight,” he urges, his tone soft and gentle. It’s hard to come to terms with who’s touching me and who stabbed a man to death seconds ago. “I’ll have food brought to you when I’ve cleaned this mess up.”
“Okay,” I manage, then pull away from the sink to leave, my body trembling violently.
His hand grasps mine before I get too far away. The heat and comfort he provides with his strong touch grounds me. The shaking subsides as his fingers trace over my palm. He stares at me, his eyes making promises I somehow understand down to a cellular level.
What’s happening between us is unstoppable.
An arranged marriage. His bratty, meddling sister. A potential loose-lipped man.
Nothing will snuff out what has begun to rage between us. An inferno. A fiery explosion of epic proportions.
We are the sun.
This isn’t just lust taking us over. This is so much more. Something that needs to be protected and kept from everyone else.
Our fingers dance with each other’s before our connection breaks. With watery eyes, but a new resolve, I push out the doors and allow him to do what he does best.
Take control. Handle things. Make moves that ensure he wins.
And this time, I hope he does win, because we’re on the same team.