VLAD (The V Games #1)(56)

I start to pull away, but Vas hugs me tighter to him. “No,” he snaps back.

“She’s not yours,” Father snarls to Vlad. “You’ve sent Diana away, and that’s that.”

Vlad’s eyes flare with fury and the vein in his neck throbs wildly. He’s utterly breathtaking. A dark prince come to save his princess in distress. “That’s not that,” Vlad seethes. “Your whore of a daughter made a fool of the Vasiliev name, Leonid. She can rot in hell for all I care, but that is not that.”

I wince at his hate for my sister, but my need for him overshadows it for now. “Vlad,” I murmur.

“Give her to me. Now,” Vlad hisses, his rage barely contained. If they keep pushing, I am afraid my father is going to eat a bunch of bullets.

“You will not come into my home, boy, and—”

Vlad’s eyes darken. “Don’t test me, old man.”

Sensing the impending explosion, Vas pushes me forward toward Vlad. I stumble, and Vlad rushes over to me, collecting me in his free arm. My arms wrap around his solid frame, and I bury my face against his chest.

Warm.

Safe.

Protected.

“You can’t just waltz in here and take my daughter!” Father bellows.

Vlad’s tone is icy as he spits out his words. “The hell I can’t, Volkov.” He kisses the top of my head. “You owe me a fucking wife.”




He’s silent the entire way home, but he’s calmed considerably. The moment we got into his car, his fingers laced with mine and he hasn’t let go. Everything hurts, and I’m worried about Diana. Father said she was to make advances on Ven. That has my nerves settling a bit. Ven is her friend, and I don’t think he’d hurt her. It’s probably the safest place she could be. My thoughts are still jumbled as Vlad pulls up to his estate. He climbs out, then stalks around the car to fetch me. I start to walk, but he doesn’t allow it, scooping me into his powerful arms. He’s still quaking with fury, and I crave to calm him in any way I can.

“Vlad,” I murmur as I stroke the dark hair from his eyes.

He closes them and stops. The snow falls heavily and sticks to his hair and lashes. He’s beautiful. A beautiful, furious monster. All mine.

I run my fingers through his hair and angle his head down. My lips brush across his. He presses a hard kiss to my lips, but then pulls away. Anguished amber eyes meet mine.

“I need to clean you up and assess how badly you’re hurt,” he says, his voice a low, guttural sound in his throat.

“I’m fine,” I murmur.

His gaze intensifies. “If you’re fine, then I’ll clean you up and fuck you until you’re not fine.”

I smile at him. “I’m sorry.”

Dark brows furl together as he regards me. “For what?”

“Sorry that things couldn’t be easy from the get-go. Sorry that everything else had to happen to get this.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “I’m not sorry. Not even a fucking little bit. I have you now, and nobody will ever take you away from me. Not your father. Not mine. Nobody.”

“Take me home then,” I whisper.

And he does.




Vlad leans against the bathroom counter as the shower heats up. His bathroom is much nicer than mine. A walk-in shower with four showerheads on the slate-tiled walls. I’m giddy just thinking about how it will feel on my sore body.

Most of the violence has left Vlad’s glare, but sparks ignite here and there. I’ve never seen him fully unleashed until tonight. Knowing, finally, the monster that lives within somehow comforts me rather than scares me. With slow, shaky movements, I remove my dress and let it fall to the floor at my feet. His eyes skim over my body, flickering every time he sees a bruise inflicted from the fall and not his mouth. Once he’s done assessing, I remove my bra. My panties are still missing from earlier. I’m bare and all his.

With a satisfied nod, he starts tearing away at his ruined suit. Piece after piece gets tossed to the floor until he’s completely naked in front of me. His cock is thick and proud, jutting right at me. I admire the way his muscles ripple along his tattooed chest with each breath he takes. The two-headed imperial eagle. His brother’s name is written into the feathers of one bird’s neck and his own name is on the other. Viktor and Vlad. Often, over the past month, I’ve lingered my fingertips over his muscled flesh and wanted to ask questions. One day, when I think he’s ready, I’ll ask and hope he’ll answer.

He prowls my way and slides an arm around my lower back. Lifting me up, he carries me until we’re under the hot spray. I let out a moan of joy. It feels good against my battered back. He sets me on my feet and gathers up my hair in his grip, tilting my head back. The water runs through my hair and down my face, smearing my mascara over my cheeks. I know I must look a fright.

Vlad doesn’t care.

Vlad sees past the paints and dresses and shadows.

Vlad finds me.

Hot water rivulets run down his face, taking Anton and Ven’s blood with it. Under the sprays, we let the night of horrors wash down the drain.

“I’ve been drawn to you for so long,” he admits, his voice husky. “I played Father’s games, but I was a selfish boy. I wanted things I wasn’t supposed to have.” His nose runs along mine. “I wanted you.”