“That’s the same thing.”
They were sitting in the barn behind her mother’s house, at a table where Marko, her mother’s caretaker, often sat and drank with the other old men from the village after the day’s chores were finished.
Marko and his wife Marie were in their cozy house, and wafts of cold air gusted under the barn door, but Tatyana didn’t care.
“Do you know how many times there have been rumors about me marrying since Luana died?” Oleg asked. “Very few take them seriously. Your friend shared that to irk you and get a reaction. You could not have actually believed him.”
Tatyana said nothing.
Oleg’s eyebrows went up. “Tell me you did not believe these rumors. Do you think me a bigamist?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think?—”
“Is this why you ran from Budapest?” He glared at her. “Because you thought I would betray you like this?”
“I didn’t run!” She curled her lip. “I was finished with all the people and the meetings and the fake smiles. And I knew… after I thought about it, I knew the rumors must be nonsense.”
Oleg narrowed his eyes. “But you did think it. You wondered.”
She sighed. “You are a very powerful immortal lord who has an empire to think about, and I am one of three leaders of a small vampire clan with no fixed territory.”
He nodded. “You are correct. But I don’t need to marry for the security of my people. Perhaps I’ll marry Ivan off like an annoying second son. He might be very happy being a kept man.”
Now it was Tatyana’s turn to roll her eyes. “Really?”
“You were stunningly beautiful the night of the ball.” Oleg lifted his chin as if remembering. “And I never got the chance to take that dress off you. I feel that you owe me a private waltz where I may undress you and show my true appreciation.” His eyes fell to her lips. “Not even a kiss for your dear husband?”
Desire curled in her blood. “Stop it.”
He leaned toward her, the table still between them. “That’s the tricky thing about sharing blood, isn’t it? Am I feeling your desire, or are you feeling mine? I feel it must be both, because though I had a week of you in my bed, it was not nearly enough.”
“Oleg—”
“We cannot exist like this, volchitsa. It is torture for us both, and it leaves us vulnerable as our enemies gather around us.”
“The Poshani have no enemies. You need to do something about Ivan.”
“I was listening as you danced with him.”
“I noticed. The brooch?—”
“Do you like it?” He smiled. “I had it made for you. A very good designer from Saint Petersburg.”
He was trying to change the subject from his troublesome brother. “Ivan knows it was from you.”
“Yes, but you diverted his attention brilliantly. Who is to say that it was not a gift to the Poshani on your accession to office of terrin? It would have been appropriate for me to come to the ceremony with a gift or two after all.”
“You brought a sturgeon full of caviar and my favorite battle-axe.”
“Who is to say I did not bring you jewelry as well?” Oleg shrugged. “Ivan was insinuating much, but you stymied him. You handled him well. Are you truly angry or hanging on to your mood for other reasons?”
Why was she angry? Oleg was being Oleg. Arrogant, entitled, and confident.
“When are you going to kill Ivan?”
“Tatyana.” He held out his hand, and Tatyana sighed and stood. She walked to him, looking down at the man she had agreed to marry.
The man she loved. “Oleg.”
