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.
