VLAD (The V Games #1)(25)

His glare is hard, as if he’s imploring me to let Irina go. I’ll let her go when I fucking feel like it.

“You’re dismissed,” I say coldly.

He stays for a beat longer before storming from the basement. I’ll chain his ass up later and do like Father used to when the hunting hounds would misbehave. Beat them with a switch until they cried and remained forever submissive.

Some of the rage has bled from my mind and it’s then I realize both of Irina’s hands grip my wrist of the hand that’s around her throat. I’m squeezing only hard enough to keep her in place. Perhaps just hard enough to leave a purple reminder of who the hell’s in charge around here.

Instead of finding tears, I catch her staring at me. One of her hands leaves my wrist and she brushes a strand of hair that’s fallen from its gel hanging in front of my eye. The heat of her touch speaks straight to my cock. I close my eyes for a moment, relishing in her touch, before I let out a heavy sigh and release her.

“Your duty is to train these women. Diana will be busy doing things I’ll ask of her, but this is something you can do. Teach them how to act like a lady. Show them how to dress and behave. Make them take a goddamn bath.” I straighten my coat and let my gaze rake over her trembling frame. The blood smeared on her face makes her look even sexier. Images of puncturing her skin with my knife and smearing her blood all over her perfect, young tits has me nearly coming in my slacks.

“If I don’t,” she challenges, her voice raspy and hoarse.

I raise a brow at her. “Be a good girl. Your studio awaits you.”

She purses her lips, but doesn’t argue. And when I toss the keys at her, she catches them and pushes them into her pocket.

“I expect you’ll be presentable by dinner?” I question, no inflection in my voice. “We’ll have many guests attending tonight.”

Her gaze flits over to the corpse behind me and she swallows. “Yes.”

“Don’t wear anything risqué. I know your sister worries about your virtue.”

A flaming in her blue eyes is the only reaction she rewards me.

With a tip of my head, I leave sweet little Irina in charge of fourteen whores and a corpse.





I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the dresser in my new room. Everything about this place feels cold. I’m simply an outsider visiting.

More like a prisoner.

My lips are painted with the reddest lipstick I own because I swear, no matter how much I scrubbed my mouth, the woman’s blood remained on my lips. A shudder ripples through me. I’ve seen glimpses of Vlad’s power, but never have I seen that. What I saw earlier was violent and terrifying. I’ve seen people kill before—hell, Diana killed a man for hurting me—but it’s never been that brutal.

He. Killed. Her.

In cold blood.

Emotionless.

Tears threaten, but I blink them back quickly. I didn’t tell Diana about earlier in the basement. Her bedroom door was closed and the music was loud. I was glad Anton’s door was closed as well. Neither of them saw me rush past, sobbing my heart out, a disheveled, bloody mess. As soon as Vlad left, I locked up that basement and fled. Guilt sluiced through me at leaving those women, but I’m no idiot. In our world, false moves get you killed in an instant. It doesn’t matter who your sister or father are.

People die. “Accidents” happen.

I frown when I notice a purple bruise forming on my throat. I’d chosen a demure black dress where the neckline doesn’t go below my collarbone. He’d been clear in his warning. Don’t wear anything risqué. Five minutes ago, I heeded that warning because fear threatened to swallow me whole.

But now?

Bravely, I lift my chin and unzip the side of my evening gown. It falls to the floor in a heap, leaving me in nothing but my black strapless bra, lacy thong, and thigh highs. The back of my bra is held together by two thin silver chains, making it perfect for open-back dresses. It shouldn’t be hidden behind something so plain. I walk over to the closet and rummage around until I find a dress Diana bought for herself, but it didn’t quite fit her larger breasts. It was a little flashy for my tastes, so I never wore it.

I pull the slinky silvery-gray material from the hanger and slide it up my thighs. It’s long and fitted, hitting a mere hair above the floor, but has a slit up the side that cuts through the material all the way to my hip. I zip up the side and make my way over to the full-length mirror. The dress dips dangerously low, revealing my quivering breasts that only look this supple and ripe because of the killer bra. The material hangs slightly off my shoulders and sinks low on my back, showing off skin to just above the crack of my ass.

Wow.

I look…

Like a shadow come to life.

The light catches the tiny, sewn-on sequins and sparkles.

I’m a shadow standing in the sun.

My long blonde hair has been pulled up into a fancy bun, but I decide I want the silky locks down at the last minute. I tug at the pins and free my waves.

I’m beautiful.

The thought makes my heart catch.

Vlad can be a monster, Diana’s monster, but for the first time in my life, I feel beautiful and free—free to marry whomever I want.

Maybe while Vlad makes out with my sister—his fiancée—I’ll start setting my sights elsewhere. Stepan, a good-looking man I’d been introduced to earlier, wouldn’t be a bad one to kiss. I saw the way his eyes followed me around the room.