Page 133 of Blood Mosaic

“Don’t try to make me laugh when I want to die.”

The air caught in his lungs.

Oleg had a sudden vision of Tatyana, her skin smoking and her glorious blue eyes turning black in the sun’s hateful light. The image was so repulsive that he felt fire whispering in his ear.

Lock her away.

It is for her own good.

His urge to possess her was growing stronger every night.

Oleg forced himself to breathe calmly. “Don’t say things like that.”

“I was walking through the garden and then all of a sudden I was here. And all I could think was: I killed an innocent man, and I don’t even remember doing it. I’m a monster.”

“If you’d been conscious enough to remember, you wouldn’t have done it.” He kissed her temple again. “It is not your fault.”

“You told me that even when I’m not out of my mind with hunger, bloodlust can still overwhelm me, so how do I know?—”

“Tatyana, stop.” He shook her a little bit. “Even in the worst throes of bloodlust, you will still be you. I know you would never have harmed my groundskeeper if you had any kind of control over yourself.”

She let out a shuddering breath but relaxed in his arms. “He’s still dead.”

“And I am not happy about that. But he had a long life. He was a grumpy bastard who was brilliant at pruning fruit trees and had no patience for self-pity, so stop saying you want to die. It won’t bring him back to life.”

She slid an arm around his waist and snuggled closer. “Don’t be sweet with me.”

Oleg grunted. “I will be sweet if I want to be sweet.”

“You shouldn’t.”

He held her close and turned.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Out of the garden.” He had something in mind, and if that couldn’t put a smile on her face, he would have to stoop to asking Oksana for advice.

He didn’t want to ask Oksana.

“I have something to show you,” he said.

“I can walk.”

“I know you can.” He carried her toward the house. “But why walk when I am willing to carry you?”

He pushedthe door open with his foot, setting Tatyana inside as he went to light the lamps that would illuminate the space properly. “Have you ever heard of the Amber Room?”

In the darkness, he heard her suck in a breath. “The room made entirely of amber panels in the Catherine Palace in Saint Petersburg?”

“I saw the original room once.” He lit an oil lamp set into a niche in the wall, and gold light filled the space. “Before it was destroyed by idiotic humans.”

Tatyana slowly walked to the center of the room. “I thought they reconstructed it.”

“The reconstruction is not terrible, but the amber doesn’t have the same quality as the original.” He walked to the next lamp. They were set at even intervals around the room. “Nowthisis not a reconstruction?—”

“Oleg.” Her voice was breathless. “What is it?”

He lit the last lamp and turned to see her spinning in the center of the room. “This was inspired by the Amber Room, but it is my own creation.”

---