Chapter 7
Aspen
“ S cooch down.”
With my feet in the stirrups, Dr. Wendy Sullivan coaxes me from her stool at the edge of the gynecology chair.
There is nothing about her that says she’s a doctor.
For Pete’s sake, she has on a rosewood halter dress that she paired with clear kitten heels.
When she walked through my guest room , Dr. Sullivan spread her fur shawl, carefully, across the small couch in this room.
Although the lighting in this room is slightly above piss poor, her rich umber skin glows and shimmers all the same.
Her eyes are warm brown and are faintly creased around the edges.
No hint of flecks of red, gold, or silver.
Nor ombre. She’s human. Possibly late fifties. That would explain the kitten heels.
Where did Vladmir even find a doctor in such a short time frame? He literally made this awful, very inconvenient marriage contract yesterday and somehow this morning, there’s a fully operating OBGYN setup in my room.
“A little more,” she continues as the thin paper under me crunches and moves beneath me. “Just a tad more. There you go.”
Lucky for me, based on the findings in this evaluation, he will know my ovulation schedule. It’s the best way to optimize absolute surety of pregnancy .
If Nikolai thinks any conjugal visits will be taking place, he’s more of an imbecile than I initially gave him credit for.
There’s slight pressure when Dr. Sullivan prods away in my vagina and my mind instantly goes to the time my mom sent me on a few missions with Raevyn and Roman along with the SRU last February.
On one of those missions, we needed to investigate some unregulated werewolves sighting in the Carolinas.
Let’s just say there was a moment when I needed my own rescue mission because someone, me, lost her way in the creepy Appalachian Mountains.
At night.
The kind of sounds I heard in the forest still give me goosebumps and nightmares from time to time.
I shake off the horrible memory.
“Oh,” she says.
Oh? Oh, as in there’s something wrong, oh? Or…
“Your hymen is still intact,” she says, her voice a bit elevated, she’s surprised.
Shit.
She rolls her stool back, looking up at me. “Do they know? You are aware of what they are, right?”
Clenching my hands to my sides and releasing a deep breath, I tell her, “No, they don’t know. And yes, I am aware they’re vampires if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Hmm.” She removes her gloves and tosses them in a nearby trash can and the harsh scent of latex disappears with it. “So you know what it means to lose your virginity to a vampire—”
“I know,” I say cutting her off .
I know all too well of the possible ramifications of presenting such a gift away. Especially to a vampire. My mom and I had plenty of conversations, not only about the birds and the bees, but about vampire men’s irrational possessiveness.
I passed on entangling with them then and I pass on them now.
“Will you tell them?” she inquires, brows furrowed.
Propping myself on my forearms, I look at her square in the eyes. “Will you?”
There’s a brief silence, it’s not charged with tension though. Dr. Sullivan studies me, then turns to study the room.
“The only thing I was tasked to do was to make sure you have a clean bill of health and that you are healthy enough to bear children. Nothing else.”
I let her words stretch between us.
If she won’t tell them, I definitely won’t either. I can survive one year of no sex with the brute especially since being abstinent has never been a problem for me.
“Thank you.”
She nods and stands from the stool, going to the guest bathroom to wash her hands.
Scooting off the table, my butt cheeks bring some of the exam paper with me. I swear, this happens to me every single time.
Dr. Sullivan exits the bathroom. “Miss Martin, I’ll send everything to the lab and the Pakhan will receive the results in a day or so.
I’m not sure if I’ll see you again, however, I’ll leave you with this.
Once you give him your virginity, it will be hard to escape him.
If you don’t plan to stay, keep those precious legs of yours closed.
Nikolai isn’t like the others I’ve seen, I would hate to see what he would do if you decide to run later. ”
With that, she leaves me with only the soft click of the door shutting behind her.
Nikolai isn’t like the others.
Is she calling herself warning me? Well, someone should be warning him because the first chance I get, I’m ripping him into pieces, leaving him broken, battered and a shell of himself.
***
The next day, I find myself in the breakfast dining hall.
The silence is uncanny and disturbing. It’s only me and the four soldiers that are lined up against the wall in front of me.
These hyenas ushered me here and reminded me that I am not a guest but a prisoner.
Not one of them offered me a greeting when they unceremoniously entered my room this morning.
They just threw clothes at me and told me I am expected to be here for breakfast.
I had to fight to at least brush my teeth and wash my face first.
Barbaric.
The mahogany breakfast table is large enough to seat an army.
My lovely guard dogs placed me in the chair next to the head seat like I’m a prize tucked in a glass display.
Or maybe for me to be within arm’s reach from whomever to threaten and to scold.
Either way, I’ve slept in holding cells more comfortable than this.
On one side, there are several buffet tables along one wall. On the other side of the room, there are large bay windows overlooking the greenhouse botanical garden. There are multicolor dahlias, white roses, purple alfalfa and countless more beyond where the eye can see.
How warm is the green house? I’m sure it’s below ten degrees out right now.
“What am I waiting for?” I apparently ask to no one since these morons don’t respond.
I could still be dreaming about my sweet freedom and about a time I wasn’t kidnapped and held by a blood contract of marriage against my will.
Instead, I’ve been dragged out roughly before the sun can even peek across the horizon.
Is this what rock bottom feels like?
“Ah, little one.” Vladmir’s voice booms from the hall’s doorway.
A smile stretches across his face and it’s as though he’s the rainbow after a heavy storm. It’s beautiful yet extremely scary.
“Please forgive my tardiness.” His voice holds tenderness with some excitement, as if he’s genuinely happy to see me.
Does he not remember he held a gun to my head not less than twenty-four hours ago?
Vladmir walks towards me with his arms extended. “I was ironing things out with some Bratva families.” He bends down and hugs me.
My shoulder stiffens at the unexpected warmth and how familial this feels. Even though my relationship with my family is complicated, this hug resembles one my dad would give me.
It feels safe.
Patting me on the back, he stands. “Many Bratva princesses are not happy you snagged the best bachelor off the market.”
Ok. He’s truly insane if he thinks his sadistic son is the best of anything.
My face must express my sentiments because he laughs, a hearty laugh at that.
I place my hands at my temples and just shake my head.
I must be living in some alternate universe or experiencing karma in its worst form to be going through something like this.
This can’t be my life.
Did I want to find a man, get married and live out the rest of my short life? Yes. But did I want to have a savage as a husband, a bi-polar father in law and live the rest of my life, well year, in misery?
Absolutely not.
I picked the wrong time to be defiant against my family.
Why did I choose Stockholm for my last concert?
No, why didn’t I book a hotel that my family has been to?
I wouldn’t have been on the road that night and Roman wouldn’t be held hostage.
But no, I’m trapped with an invisible ball and chain to his demon spawn.
Roman was right. I do put myself in terrible situations and this time he can’t save me. This time, I have to save us both by marrying the grim reaper.
Vladmir takes the seat at the head of the table and claps. Instantly there’s movement from behind the hall. Servants come through the doorway with covered silver plates. They place a plate in front of him, then me and then one in front of the empty seat across from me.
Maybe it’s for the missus? Is there a missus?
“For obvious reasons, your family will not be attending the wedding,” he says somberly, as if he even cares. “I will be honored to walk you down the aisle, sweet Pen. I can call you that since we’re family now, right? Of, course I can. I’m your father in law.”
Vladmir laughs again and my head spins. Am I in some kind of twilight zone ?
“By the way,” he uncovers the lid to his plate, and the scent hits me before I even see what’s for breakfast.
There’re eggs, bacon, potatoes, a biscuit with a side of jam. It all smells so divine, making my mouth water. Opening my lid, I discover I have the same except I have Belgian waffles.
Maybe being a prisoner here isn’t so bad. This is definitely better than what they served at the werewolves’ boot camp.
“Where are your parents from? Or is it just you and your brother? You’re clearly American but I can’t place the accent.”
Grabbing my fork, I stab my eggs then place them in my mouth. They taste rich as though the cook added heavy whipping cream and cheese to the mix. It all tastes like my grandma’s cooking.
“We’re orphans and I’m from the east coast.”
The lie slips out naturally.
The trick is to sprinkle some truth with the lie. No, I’m not an orphan but I’m sort of from New York although I spent most of my childhood in New Orleans with my grandma and Uncle Marcel.
“East coast? New York?”