Page 121 of Blood Mosaic

Oleg had feared the worst. Zara had lost control and killed both of them in a rage and was hiding in the darkest pit she could find, knowing that Oleg’s wrath would eventually find her.

And then.

“Leave.” Oleg flicked his fingers toward the door. “Leave us.”

“She’s Zara’s blood.”

“I can smell it.”

His daughterhadlost control. That much was obvious. But why had she turned Tatyana? What did she hope to gain?

As a vampire, Tatyana’s stubborn mind was now permanently resistant to Zara’s amnis. She wouldn’t be able to manipulate her like she would have as a human. She couldn’t make Tatyana forget. She couldn’t force her to give up information.

Mika huffed out a breath. “Killing Zara?—”

“Has become much more complicated.”

Oleg had wanted Zara’s blood even if it pained him. He’d told the vampire world that Zara was already dead, and promised revenge for Elene. But while killing his daughter might hurt Oleg, it could very well kill Tatyana. The pain would be so excruciating that a young vampire like her might not survive the loss of that bond.

“This has massive fuckup written all over it,” Mika muttered.

“Know what else has massive fuckup written all over it?” Oleg snapped. “Elene’s death.”

Mika went silent, and a cold mask fell over his face.

Oleg glared at him. “Leave.”

Mika marched out of the room without another word.

When his little wolf was awake and Oleg knew her mind was her own, he might forgive Mika. He knew Elene had resisted protection. He’d heard her stubbornness with his own ears. Mika was only partially responsible when Elene had refused to cooperate.

But ten days ago they had put Elene’s body in the ground. The priests had spoken the ancient rites as her children wept. Her husband watched Oleg with a frigid glare.

Oleg had no defense; he had failed one of his dearest friends.

He would not fail Tatyana.

Oleg walked over to the bed and saw her body lax with the sleep of the newborn. He trailed a finger along her cheek, brushing a strand of her golden hair away from her eyes. Had her eyes changed? He hadn’t seen them clearly before she fell into day rest. Sometimes eye color changed with immortality, but he hoped Tatyana’s had remained the same glorious blue.

“You have true fangs now, volchitsa.” He knelt next to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes as he made a silent promise to the young woman who hadn’t wanted this fate.

He would make sure she survived. He would make sure her teeth were sharp, her body prepared, and her instincts honed. He would be her master, and she might grow to hate him.

But he would make sure Tatyana survived.

Chapter Thirty-One

Tatyana woke again, but for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t cold and in pain. There was no dripping sound in the background. She was warm, and the sheets around her were tucked in tightly. The fabric soothed her skin, and the warm air in the room was thick and misty with water. Someone had washed her and braided her hair in a long plait down her back.

The walls around her were a soft green color, and the floor was smooth, dark oak that settled something inside her. There were no paintings hanging, but a verdant green mosaic was inlaid along one wall, depicting a starry sky over a forest.

Oleg. Somehow she had come to be in Oleg’s house. She knew it without a doubt.

There was no light save for a very low lamp in the corner with an amber bulb. It cast a gentle glow across the room and glinted against small mirrored tiles in the mosaic.

The bed she was lying on was soft, and somewhere in the distance, classical music played.

Despite the deliberately muted scene set for her, Tatyana’s throat was on fire.

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