Chapter 3 Oleg #2
Was that why Oleg still let Ivan live? Would giving in to his instincts to kill Ivan be giving in to the bloody instincts that had forged him?
Oleg heard Truvor’s laughter in the back of his mind and knew that in too many ways, he was still dancing to his bloody sire’s tune.
Oksana sat on the couch next to Ludmila, her arm stretched across the back of the sofa behind her wife. She wore a concerned expression on her face. “What are you going to do about Ivan?”
“You don’t have to kill him yourself,” Ludmila said. “I could do it. I would be happy to do it.”
Oleg smirked. “So generous.”
“Oh yes.” His favorite sniper leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.
“Yes, it’s because I’m very generous and not at all because I have dreamed of punching my fist through his nose so hard that my fist actually goes through his face” —she lifted her small fist and bared her fingers like claws— “then I would grab his pitiful excuse for brains and kind of chop them up” —she yanked her hand back— “and pull them out through the big hole I just made in his face, and then I would—”
“We get the idea,” Mika said. “You would like to kill Ivan.”
“I’m just offering.” Ludmila spread her hands. “If he wants.”
“I’m leaving you in Moscow with him,” Oleg said. “You and Oksana.”
“Ha!” Oksana laughed. “Oh, he will love that.”
“I’m sure he will.”
Mika didn’t look amused; he looked concerned. “Ivan hates powerful women.”
“I know.” Oleg raised an eyebrow and met Ludmila’s smirk with one of his own. “You ladies should drive him crazy.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Mika said.
Oleg made his voice like a blade. “I’m not playing a game at all.”
Mika was silent, and Oleg could see he was not pleased.
“It’s not a game,” Oleg said to Oksana. “And I fully realize how much danger you will be in while you remain in the city. Double whatever security protocols you have for now, and I’ll be sending some of our own people to watch you.”
“What are you planning?” Oksana asked. “Does it involve Tatyana?”
Mika, Ludmila, and Oksana were some of the few who knew that Oleg and Tatyana had married and mated.
Oleg had kept that information even from much of his closest circle, his druzhina.
No doubt he would have to make amends once the truth was known, but for now, it was too dangerous with Ivan still causing problems.
“Right now I don’t want to get Tatyana involved. The last thing I want is for my wife to think she has to split her loyalties between her mate and the clan she leads.”
“But she does,” Mika said. “This situation you have been living with is not sustainable. At some point—”
“This is none of your business,” Oleg said. “Be careful what words you choose.”
“It is my business,” Mika said. “It’s all our business, because your attention is divided when anything related to the Poshani is in play.”
“I’m not saying he’s right,” Ludmila said. “But… he’s maybe not wrong.”
Mika rolled his eyes. “Thank you for that glowing support.”
“We’re worried about you,” Oksana said. “It can’t be easy to be apart from her.” She reached for Ludmila’s hand. “We can all see that you’re happier and sharper when she’s around. Not that you’re dull!” Oksana added quickly. “I’m not saying that.”
“I am maybe saying that a little bit,” Ludmila muttered.
Oleg stuck his hand out and flipped Ludmila off, which made the small woman smile.
“You won’t be seeing much of me at all for a while.
” Oleg decided to change the subject. “So you won’t have to worry.
While Ivan is at the Báthory Summit, use the time to gather information.
Find out which of his sons are unhappiest, I’m going to guess it’s the ones who have more than half a brain.
We need to find a way to use them because I don’t want Moscow to turn into another episode of mass bloodshed like the period after Truvor’s death. ”
Oleg had paid assassins to kill his sire, knowing that his blood tie with Truvor was too strong even though he hated him.
But then he’d spent weeks killing off all those who challenged him, and the bloodshed had shaped his clan for centuries. Those left had bowed to Oleg, but the cycle of violence continued, threatening the cohesion of his new empire.
If he wanted to keep his territory together, he would have to find a way to end Ivan without his sons resenting Oleg and thirsting for vengeance. There would be bloodshed, of that he had no doubt, but the blood of the immortal Kievan Rus was valuable. Oleg had no intention of wasting it needlessly.
“Be careful.” He watched his two favorites. “Tatyana would never forgive me if something happened to you.”
Oleg strode through the cold stone corridors of his castle in the Carpathian Mountains, ignoring the staff and keeping his mind focused on his mission now that the nasty business of dealing with Ivan was finished.
For now.
He’d have to think of another way to undermine his brother before they met in Budapest next month. Perhaps an embarrassing explosion in a factory? Truck sabotage? Luring all his girlfriends to new and more competent lovers?
He’d have to leave that job to Mika now. Tatyana required monogamy, which suited Oleg anyway. At his age, he found his appetites for sexual partners growing more and more narrow.
In fact, his appetite was for Tatyana now. Just her.
He entered Tatyana’s chambers in the castle to find his butler had already set out a carafe of fresh blood donated by one of his humans. Excellent.
His wife had not yet visited her chambers at the citadel, but Oleg could live with that. He’d been working on a mosaic piece for the past two years, and he was a patient man.
“Omar,” he snapped at the man standing in the corner of the room. “Did you bring the supplies I requested?”
The human gestured to the tray with blood. “Lord Oleg, it is fresh—”
“Not the blood.” He grabbed for it anyway. To not drink the blood would be disrespectful to the donor.
He felt the living liquid the moment it touched his tongue. The bright, sweet heat of human life made his fangs lengthen and brought a flush to his skin as his amnis reacted to the indefinable animation that human blood carried.
Within blood, the dark poetry of vampire existence came to life. The fire of its heat, the red cells that carried human life, the oxygen, the water. Human blood was the essence of every element and the single thing that an immortal needed to survive.
He ate to soothe the human body that persisted, but blood…
Blood.
He remembered the sweet taste of Tatyana’s blood in his mouth.
There was no blood as rich as his wife’s. No taste that could match the beautiful, pure heat she gave him.
The donated blood lingered like clay in his mouth.
Oleg set the goblet down and nodded at Omar. “I was speaking of the other supplies.”
“Ah.” Omar smiled. “Yes, the amethysts arrived last night, and I immediately brought them here when we received word that you were coming home.”
“Excellent.” The mosaic that covered the wall of Tatyana’s chambers had already taken shape, but he’d been slowly replacing many of the original tiles with gemstones when he found the right pieces.
Oleg walked to his worktable near the fireplace, tossing a few flames into the hearth with a pop that lit the kindling and started to warm the room.
The amethyst pieces would be perfect to highlight the heads of lavender that decorated the walls of the chamber. It was a seascape based on photographs that one of his human guards had taken at the top of the hill on the Vorona family farm in the Crimea.
The seascape looked out over the Black Sea at daybreak, the sky a pearlescent pink washed with delicate orange tones, the sea in deep green and blue waves.
And in the foreground, as if springing up from the hard stone floors, a hillside of blooming lavender framed by apple trees.
Oleg had already completed the mosaic, but he was constantly adding little touches as ideas struck him.
He had also ordered a malachite surround for the fireplace that would be carved and finished by the end of the summer, the green matching the stalks of lavender and the coastal grass that covered the hillside.
“It’s the most beautiful piece you have created, Lord Oleg.”
He smiled. “Do you think so?”
“Yes.” Omar’s voice was low and reverent. “The firebird in the dining room used to be my favorite, but this one is even more beautiful. I feel that I am standing on a hillside in the middle of the day.”
“Excellent. That was my goal.”
“Are you sure you want to add more?”
“Not much more,” Oleg said, picking up the clear amethyst tiles and holding them up to the light. “But I have a picture in my mind, and I must realize it.”
“Of course, my lord.” Omar moved to the tray and unlocked the wheels so he could remove it. “Will Lady Tatyana be joining us soon?”
Oleg glanced over his shoulder as he held a faceted amethyst to the wall. “Am I boring the staff, Omar?”
He knew his house manager was asking on behalf of all the humans who worked for him, no doubt more than eager to have a mistress after so many decades of taking care of a bachelor.
Omar, like all the staff at the citadel, knew their master had taken a wife, but only Omar knew who the lady of the castle was and why she had not appeared in over five years.
“Boring us? Never, my lord.” Omar’s manners were as old-fashioned as his suit.
“Your lady will be joining us when time and circumstances permit,” Oleg said. “And she sends her greetings. She asked me to give all of you an extra holiday this month as a gift to her.”
Tatyana hadn’t asked him for anything like that, but she would no doubt approve. She would probably tell him to give all of them an extra week of vacation and double their already ample salaries.
“That’s very generous,” Omar said. “I will share that with the staff.”
“Thank you, Omar. That will be all for tonight.”
“I will retire, my lord. Please ring the kitchen if you need anything at all.”
“Sleep well.”
Oleg continued to map the jewels onto the wall, placing them to highlight just a few of the stalks so that when the fire was lit, it would give the appearance of sparkling in the sun.
He backed away from the wall, gazing on the image of the Black Sea, the dark blue waters as constant as his body.
The single change he had wrought on himself in centuries was a scar his mate had left on his neck, a pair of fang marks he had cauterized with burning fingertips in a sentimental gesture.
Your lady will be joining us when time and circumstances permit.
Tatyana Vorona would come to this place, sleep in this lavish chamber next to his own.
She would be his queen.
Though she had responsibilities to the Poshani, Oleg was greedy. He wasn’t willing to compromise on much in his life, and he definitely wouldn’t compromise on this.
Oleg would not rest until the intricate mosaic he had created was exactly what he pictured in his mind.
And he would not rest until he got everything he wanted.