VAS (The V Games Book 3), page 15
No. Never again will I be a prisoner.
“Breathe, Darya. Just breathe.” Vlad’s words are but a whisper.
I try to tug at the threads of his words, focusing on his voice to steady my rampant heart. Sweat coats my skin as the room comes back into view. I’m on the floor cradled within Vlad’s arms.
“It’s okay, just breathe,” he murmurs.
My hands are sweaty and shaking. I’m unsure what happened, but sorrow floods my chest and tears stream from my eyes.
“It’s a panic attack, Vlad.” I hear Irina’s voice, but don’t seek her out. “Where is Vas?” she asks, and Vlad’s hold tightens before he lifts me and takes the stairs. He enters the room I was given before I left with Vas and places me gently on the made bed.
“I’m going to call him. Is that what you need?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck, then running his hands through his hair. “Darya, please don’t be afraid of being here. This is your home.”
I curl into the pillow and burrow my head. I want to please him. I want to feel safe. I want a home, and I have one. Vas is my home.
“I’m going to call Vas,” Vlad decides, and I exhale, nodding my head yes.
Please.
Lord Jesus Christ our God, please bring my angel home to me.
The moon keeps me company as I cruise along the highway and push my car to the speeds it was built for. The roads are almost empty, and I’m making great time.
My cell begins ringing, and I frown to see Vlad’s name pop up on the screen on the dash. It’s early hours. He should be sleeping by now. A flutter causes my heart to stammer as a fleeting worry that something’s wrong with Darya enters my thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” I demand as a greeting.
His breathing rattles through the line, and my panic increases.
“Vlad?” I bark.
“Where are you?” he grunts into the receiver.
“Driving home because you left me here.” I don’t keep the agitation from my tone.
“When you get back, come straight over. Darya had a panic attack and she feels safe with you, so…”
So, he wants her to feel safe—and that means swallowing his pride and letting me take care of my girl.
“Three hours and I’ll be there.” I end the call and grip the wheel. She needs me. Well, I fucking need her too.
Pointing to the room my girl is in, Vlad grabs my bicep hard. Like he wants to fault me for the turn of events. But I’m not the one who took her from her happy environment and dropped her right back into the hell she fears. He seems to come to this same conclusion because he lets out a resigned sigh.
“Thank you for this, Vas.”
I give him a quick nod. This is no longer the Vlad Vasiliev Show. Darya has needs, and I’m someone who can provide for her and protect her. In the past, I’ve allowed him to be the big, bad bully, but I’m sick of him throwing his weight around. I’ll allow it up to a point, but not when it comes to her. Not anymore. We’re past that—way fucking past it. I think he finally realizes it.
I enter the room encased in darkness thanks to the blackout curtains. The hallway light spills into the room, revealing her to me.
My heart pounds inside my chest, wild and erratic. Fuck. I’m so done for.
She owns me. Shucking out of my jacket, I pull the door closed and then slide onto the bed to cradle my arms around her. She tenses for a second before melting against me.
“My dark angel,” she murmurs, turning to inhale my scent. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” I smile against her forehead. It was nine hours, but felt longer. Is this what love feels like?
“I don’t want to be without you ever again. Is this normal?” she asks, burrowing deeper into me, like she can’t get close enough.
I want to tell her with everything she’s been through, I’ve become an anchor for her and she only thinks she needs me. Even though part of me knows this could be true, I sigh into her, because damn if I don’t need her too. This feels like so much more than hero worship. Nothing feels better than the love she’s giving me.
I never want to feel what it’s like not having her. She’s mine. End of.
All the fragile parts of her are mine to worship.
“I felt hollow when I stepped inside this house. All those dark shadows of Molokh invaded my soul and ravished me.” Her body trembles, and soft cries pour from her.
“You’re safe now. Sleep, baby. I’ll never let you go again. I promise.”
And I mean it.
Darya’s giggles stop when I enter the bedroom and her mouth pops open. Her brown eyes ignite with lust. I’d left to get dressed in another room, and it was worth it to see the look on her face.
“What was funny?” I ask, sidling up to her and taking her in my arms.
“You look so handsome. I love the tie.” She bites her bottom lip, and I choke down a moan. Fuck. I want inside her body—to bind her hands with this tie and touch her with nothing but my tongue. She strokes down the lapels of my jacket and sighs.
I’m wearing formal wear for this dinner tonight. After we woke this morning, I took Darya for a walk around the grounds to try to bring her some peace about being here. We took a shower together in the afternoon and napped like old people. It was bliss, and now my mistress of the night is blossoming against the shade of the beckoning night sky highlighted behind her through the floor-to-ceiling window.
“You’re not ready and haven’t told me what was so funny before I came in,” I muse, nibbling my way down her neck to her bare shoulder.
She sighs into my touch, then breaks away. She slinks to the bed and picks up a red dress. It’s satin, and without seeing it on her, I know it will be flush with her skin.
“That’s usually my sister’s color,” I inform her with lifted brows. Diana is known for her red flare.
“It’s ridiculous, Vas. I can’t wear this.” She giggles—an almost hysterical and crazed sound—and hides her face in the fabric.
“Why so funny?” I ask, confused.
Letting out a gust of air, she plops down on the bed still holding the dress.
“It’s not funny. It’s just…I’ve walked around this place naked. Every person here has seen my flesh, yet to think of them seeing me in this,” she huffs, staring down at the dress, “makes it worse somehow.”
“Because it sexualizes you,” I agree, taking the dress and tossing it to the floor. “Before, it wasn’t a choice. You weren’t there to be sexy, but to wear that by choice…”
“I’m not this person. I don’t want people looking at me—men—just you.” She stands, her hand coming up to stroke my cheek. “Do you want me to wear that for you?” Her eyes fall to the floor, her lip slightly curled in disgust.
Fuck no.
No. I don’t want to let her out of this room. Introducing her to any of these fuckheads tonight is torture. They’re not worthy of her company.
“I want you to wear whatever you choose. You’re the most precious woman on this earth to me. Beautiful, sexy, insatiable,” I tease, kissing her plump, fat lips. “You would look perfect in a bathrobe. So be comfortable. You don’t owe these people anything.”
A rap at the door pulls our attention from the heated moment I’m sure would have resulted in me tearing out of this suit, taking her right on the bed, turning up late for dinner, and not giving two fucks about that fact.
“Vas, Darya?” Irina calls out through the wood panels.
Groaning, I separate us and go to the door. I open it a sliver and smile down at my very pregnant sister.
“Guests are arriving. Vlad said he had a dress delivered for Darya, but I know his tastes can be…”
“Slutty?” I finish, and she slaps at me.
“Don’t be rotten. Here.” She hands me over a garment bag. “I bought this before I knew I was pregnant and never got to wear it. Even so, it’s more Darya than me.” She blushes, and I smile. She’s cute, and I’m grateful she’s brought another dress.
“Thank you,” I say. “We will be down soon.”
Nodding, she disappears from sight. Closing the door, I hold up the garment bag and waggle my brows, causing another giggle from my girl. “Let’s hope she does better than Vlad.”
Laying the dress bag across the bed, I unzip it and Darya gasps. It’s a dark blue dress, almost black, with a tiny sprinkling of crystals, making it appear like the night sky. It’s ankle-length, and the high neck will cover her completely.
Good job, sis.
“It’s perfect, Vas.” She claps, then takes the dress from the hanger and drops her nightdress from her body.
I have to close my fucking eyes because she’s only wearing a pair of white cotton panties and it’s strangely a turn-on.
Shimmying the dress up her thighs, she lifts the fabric over her form, covering her from my eyes. The ties go around her neck and drape down her spine, showing enough flesh to be sexy in a modest way. It’s perfect.
“Can you help me?” she asks, holding the pieces around her neck.
I have to pull myself together. The next time I hold her, I won’t be able to stop myself from undressing her and feeling her bareness against mine. Damn, does she know how badly I want her?
“Vas?” she asks hoarsely.
Yeah, she fucking knows.
Eyes all fall on her as we enter the dining room together.
All First Families are here, yet I don’t see my father amongst them. His wife, Olga, however, catches my eye. She’s guzzling down a glass of wine like it’s water and she’s stranded in the desert. Both my sisters almost float toward us with greetings and Ven gives me a nod. He looks tired and strained. Knowing his brother’s death was a callous, jealous murder rather than a defeat in The Games is a crushing thought. Maybe I shouldn’t have helped Vika.
She’s a victim of her upbringing, I remind myself.
“Darya, let me introduce you to our mother,” Irina pipes up, taking Darya by the hand, but she meets resistance and frowns.
“Can Vas come with us?” Darya asks, and I’m already leading her forward with a hand at her waist.
“Of course,” Irina assures her with a smile.
Before we reach Irina’s mother, a bell chimes and Irina lights up, stopping in her tracks.
“Maybe after dinner,” she says. “It’s time to take our seats.” She really does fit into the role of housewife. It surprising considering how opposite Diana is.
My eyes clash with Rodion and Zahkar across the room as they raise a glass to us, then gesture to the table. Rodion leans in to pick up his name plate directly opposite Darya’s and mine.
“Guess I’m sitting here.” He grins. I’m glad they made it here for this. I don’t feel so out of place when they’re around. I fucking hate putting on a performance for these dinner parties. I’d rather be sweating it out in the gym, the ring, or better still, the fucking bedroom with my girl. But the Vasilievs like to have an audience for every occasion.
“Timofei is a no-show?” I query over the table to Rodion.
“Moving cattle,” he says with a knowing wink.
Timofei was tasked with Vika’s transfer. I feel for that guy, I really do, because she’s going to be a fucking nightmare.
One day, I hope she appreciates the risk I took for her—the risk we all took for her.
“Who is Timofei?” Darya whispers to me, her beautiful, big eyes inquisitive.
“Their older sibling.” I smile down at her, resisting the urge to capture her fat bottom lip between my teeth.
“Oh, wonderful, there are more of them,” she breathes in wonder, and I swallow down the chuckle bubbling. “What about Alyona?” Darya frowns.
“And Alyona?” I mouth over the table. Zahkar, from next to Rodion, takes out his cell phone and flits his thumbs over the device. A second later, my own buzzes from my pocket.
I open the screen and see Alyona in bed with pillows surrounding her, her face decorated with blue and black bruises, but she’s smiling with a thumb raised. I chuckle and show Darya before slipping it back in my pocket. I float my eyes down the line of guests and see Alyona’s father, Iosif, and brother, Ivan, are here.
Ivan’s tense jaw is comical. His ego will be bruised, but he will get over it—just like everyone else has to when shit doesn’t go as planned. It’s life. This life.
Andru Vetrov, the cousins’ father, enters the room with his usual swagger. The air almost thickens with his presence. No doubt Rodion got every ounce of his personality from his dad. And Andru must be quite the example because Zahkar, not even his own flesh and blood, acts like him too. I trace Andru’s movements to his seat next to Rodion’s. Andru has always had an air about him—a power he doesn’t need to flaunt because you just fucking know it’s there. I’m surprised he showed for this dinner, but like his sons, he’s inquisitive and likes to keep on top of the dealings of the other First Families.
Andru’s eyes flit between Darya and me before remaining on her and studying her features. I guess a new daughter opens up options for his sons he hasn’t yet married off. Not likely, Andru. She’s mine.
“Vas, it’s good to see you,” he drawls, lifting his glass and taking a swig.
“You too, sir.” I nod.
“It’s nice to see my sons outside of their club too. You boys spend too much time in the dark. Like vampires.” He raises a brow, and his sons grin over at him.
“The thirst is strong.” Zahkar lifts his glass, his eyes flashing with wicked thoughts.
The room hums with conversation being carried out amongst each other until everyone has taken their seats. The dining table is huge and the guest list long. I guess Vlad really wants everyone to know who Darya truly is in one go so there’s no lingering gossip.
Darya’s nerves almost have her body rattling out of her seat. Placing my palm on her thigh, I lean in and whisper against her ear, “You have nothing to fear here. Not ever again.” Her body leans into me, her soft hand resting on top of mine.
The chair beside me is dragged out on a screech, drawing my attention away from my girl. Irina and Diana’s mother plants her ass there.
“I must be special getting to sit beside the wonderful bastard brother,” Olga scoffs, picking up the wine glass set out on the table and chugging its contents before holding it up for a refill.
“Mother,” Diana scorns from the other side of her, but Olga just rolls her eyes. “He is a bastard, just stating facts,” she defends poorly.
Not allowing the bitter bitch to see any offended reaction from me, I make a point of looking around the room.
“Where is our father tonight?” I ask around her to Diana, but Olga leans into me and snorts.
“He’s not feeling well. In other words, he didn’t want to come.”
Or he’s balls deep in someone else. What’s that saying?
“While the cat’s away…” I whisper back to her on a hushed tone so my sister doesn’t hear me. The rat will play.
She clenches her fist and snaps up to the woman serving wine. “All the way up,” she orders. “The Vasilievs have enough money to fill the glasses to the top, stupid woman.” The server nods her head in apology and pours more wine into the glass.
My attention is pulled away to Vlad taking his glass in hand and tapping a knife against it. Silence falls over the room, and before he can speak, Yuri enters like a thundercloud of impending doom.
That face doesn’t look like that of a new father.
Darya tenses beside me, and I entwine our fingers beneath the table, my hand giving hers a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t let me stop your celebration, son,” Yuri spits out, eyeing my Darya with a hate-filled glare as he strolls to a seat at the head of the table and sits. Why does she get his hate? He’s the one being a fucking creep to his own blood.
“As I was about to say,” Vlad picks up, “you all know why I invited you here tonight. It would appear we have a new addition to our family name. Unbeknownst to us until recently.” He smiles down at Darya, and she peeks up at him through her lashes. “She’s a wonderful, strong, resilient Vasiliev, and I—”
Before he can finish, crashing sounds from the other end of the table. My gut tightens and muscles become rigid. All eyes turn to Yuri, who stands up and points his fork in Darya’s direction. Autopilot switches on inside me, and I turn my body to put her behind my back. I’ll kill him before he gets close to her. Consequences be damned.
Was this a set up?
“That little bastard isn’t mine. She doesn’t get my fucking name,” he announces to the room.
Fuck.
Motherfucker.
I turn my glare to Vlad. If he lied to make her death a spectacle, I’ll gut him and his father before either can touch one hair on her head.
Vlad’s jaw flexes, and he lifts his hand slightly to me, gesturing for me to wait.
He knows what I’m thinking, but he’s too busy eyeballing his father with intent.
No, my girl is a relation, just not to Yuri. Shit. Vlad should have told me this information. This means she’s still in fucking danger and I have her here in the lion’s den, ready to be picked off.
Vlad pales slightly and opens his mouth to speak, but Yuri cuts him off with a bark of a laugh.
“You thought I’d just take your fucking word for it? I had my own tests done,” Yuri grunts. “She’s half blood—and not the good side. Your whore mother’s side,” he spits, slamming his fork down and taking his seat like he didn’t just make a fucking scene in front of everyone.
She’s not his daughter.
“He’s not my father?” Darya exhales a relieved sigh, her entire frame sagging into me. I don’t think she’s even aware she’s spoken her words aloud.
“Of course he’s not your d-daddy. You d-don’t even l-look like him,” Olga slurs, sloshing her drink all over the table. “Ever the entertainment at a Vasilievs’ party. So, does she get thrown over the balcony and gutted now?” Olga snorts.
