VLAD (The V Games #1)(27)
“Irina Volkov,” I say, ignoring the furious heat radiating from Vlad. He wouldn’t whip out his scary hook knife and slaughter a Voskoboynikov in front of everyone. Certainly not. “Nice to meet you.”
Artur’s smile widens and heat prickles through me at having his undivided attention. Is this how Diana always feels? As though everyone’s attention is solely on her? He takes my hand and kisses my knuckle over my glove. The heat of his breath through the material sends trembles of excitement stuttering through me.
“Let’s eat,” Vlad grits out.
Dinner goes on for hours. It’s boring and I find myself sucking down wine to pass the time. I’d assumed moving into the lion’s den would be more exciting at dinner. Instead, I’ve listened to family dramas similar to my own and other nonsense for too long. Vlad has finally taken to ignoring me altogether as he flirts with my sister.
They’re an item now.
It’s what’s expected of them.
Diana plays her part well. Blushes at his compliments. Leans in for his gentle kisses to her cheek. Offers her ear when he has a secret only she’s privy to. Despite his monstrous slip earlier today, he’s back to his usual self. Poised and dapper. Commanding and powerful. Women gaze at him with hearts in their eyes. Men wish they were him.
I’m all but falling out of my chair drunk when I see Artur watching me with a predatory stare. He’s hungry for me. Maybe I want to get eaten. A giggle slips past my lips, and Artur smiles back, then motions for me to follow him. I toss my napkin on my plate and stand. The room spins, and I grip the back of my chair to keep from falling. Anton, who sits across from Diana, narrows his eyes at me, but makes no moves to follow. She always was his favorite. Some standin dad he is. I roll my eyes at him and try not to stumble out of the busy room where nearly fifty people are dining. I escape into the hallway and see Artur leaning against a pillar.
He lets out a chuckle when I throw myself into his arms. Strong, capable arms keep me from falling to the floor.
“You are the most exquisite woman I have ever seen,” he praises, his hot breath tickling the top of my head.
I look up at him and inhale his masculine scent. It’s expensive and manly. Not overpoweringly addictive like Vlad’s, but it’ll certainly do. Maybe Artur can distract me from my confusing thoughts.
Vlad is a monster. So why do I still want him?
I try to kiss Artur’s mouth, but bump my teeth against his jaw when I miss. He laughs, the sound husky and adorable.
“Let’s find a place to hang out quietly. Show me to your bedroom,” he instructs.
I point toward the stairs. When he realizes I can barely walk, he scoops me up. I cling to him as he carries me swiftly up the steps and down the hallway as though he doesn’t want anyone to see. Anyone like Vlad. Terrifying images flit through my drunken haze as I envision what sort of things someone like Vlad would do if he knew what was about to happen under his roof. Would he be angry with me? Would this be the nail in the coffin for him to extinguish any apparent attraction toward me and focus solely on my sister? I decide that’s what needs to happen. I’ll make out with Artur, maybe see where the night takes us, and move on from Vlad.
“There,” I murmur, my voice a thick slur.
He carries me inside my bedroom and starts to close the door, but I stop him. A quiver of fear darts through me.
“Leave it open.”
His gaze darkens. “Kinky. I like it.”
I’m tossed onto the bed and the room spins. My dress has slipped down, and my bra is showing. He peels off his jacket, then tugs at his tie. Things are moving too fast, and I don’t feel so well. I close my eyes to keep from vomiting. Someone clears their throat, violent words are whispered, and then the door closes.
“Hey,” I groan, squinting up. “Keep it open.”
“Were you hoping I’d see Artur Voskoboynikov, of all people, fucking my fiancée’s little sister?” Vlad growls, malice in his tone. “I don’t think so.”
I stare in horror as he pulls out the same curved knife from earlier. Shiny and pristine. No longer dripping in that woman’s blood. He takes a step toward the bed and I sit up on my elbows, quickly assessing my escape routes. His eyes follow mine to the bathroom and he shakes his head.
“There is no escape, little girl. You’ve messed up and you need to be punished,” he hisses.
“I can see whoever I want,” I bite back, anger surging through me.
He strikes out with his hand and grabs my ankle, yanking me toward him on the bed. I scream and kick, but the moment the hooked end of the knife presses against my thigh where the slit of my dress ends, I freeze.
“Little Irina,” he says, his voice dripping with fury, “you see no one. Absolutely no one. You will die a little lonely virgin who lives in my house.”
The fabric rips as he begins slicing upwards. The blade nicks my hip, and then he turns it toward my stomach. I’ll die on this bed. He’ll cut me open like that woman and I’ll bleed out right here. My poor sister.
“Do you understand the rules?” he snarls, making sure the blade scrapes in a threatening way along my flesh beneath the dress as he cuts through it.
“Y-Yes,” I breathe, a sob catching in my throat.
He continues shredding the beautiful dress until he makes it to the neckline. He slices through it, and the silky parts fall to my sides, baring my undergarments to him. His gaze is lazy as he rakes it along my breasts, stomach, and between my thighs.