Vladimir (Russian Dragon Heat #1) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,21

a rack in the middle of the space.

Taking into account the snow being cleared from immediately around the house, it all looked as if someone else had been living here—or still was?—very recently.

Vladimir looked up as he rose from kneeling to light the kindling in the hearth. The immediate crackle and smell of pine made it all seem even cozier.

Tanya didn’t want cozy. Nor was she fooled for a moment into thinking she would have it, not when Vladimir had minutes ago threatened to “tend” to his mate’s disobedience.

Except she wasn’t, nor would she ever be, this man’s, or his dragon’s, mate. The idea of it went against everything that had given her the strength to survive the last ten years. She was the attempted avenger of her parents’ deaths. She had no idea where Pyotr was, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still carry out their original quest.

Tanya winced as she realized she wasn’t sure she any longer had the appetite to carry out that vengeance. For so many years, she’d lived with that as her spur for continuing on, to accept whatever life demanded of her in order to survive. But now, alone here with Vladimir, she was less sure of her previous actions.

Because Vladimir continued to deny any involvement in her parents’ deaths?

No, it wasn’t just his denial, Tanya realized with a frown. Her resolve had started to waver before that, possibly after she made the mistake of getting to know Vaughn Romanov and found she actually liked him. Guilt and Pyotr’s vehement urgings had made her continue with the planned attack on Vaughn. A plan that had ultimately failed. Badly. Vaughn had been injured, yes, but not fatally. All the attack on him had really achieved was to infuriate the whole of the Romanov family.

Which was the reason she’d been held as a prisoner for the past three months at the Romanovs’ winter palace. During that time, she’d been treated well. Fed, kept warm, and if she’d asked for anything, it had usually appeared the following day.

Except her freedom, she reminded herself impatiently.

More people should have to exist, even for a short time, in the same solitary hand-to-mouth, existence Tanya had for so many years. Then perhaps they would understand that freedom came in many forms and guises.

For the last three months, for the first time in too many years for Tanya to think about, no one had harmed her, ridiculed her, or expected her to have the funds to support them, or to have all the answers to a problem as Pyotr so often had.

It was freedom of a different sort, but still a welcome one for someone who had lived as hard a life as Tanya’s had been these past ten years.

Or perhaps she had what they called Stockholm Syndrome? That condition during which a captive could develop an alliance or affection for those keeping them prisoner.

Then wouldn’t she feel that way toward the Mikhailovs rather than Vladimir, who she hadn’t set eyes on since he took her to the winter palace?

Whatever the reason, Tanya realized she no longer felt that burning hatred toward Vladimir that had sustained her for so many years. She didn’t feel gratitude either for his having allowed her to live. But the loss of that hatred, which had driven her actions for so long, felt more like relief than a curse.

She also, Tanya realized with a frown, was once again aware of that itching beneath her skin as if a hive of bees were buzzing there.

“Vaughn was here until just days ago.” Vladimir explained that lived-in feeling Tanya had sensed when she entered the dacha. “He came here to be alone once he was recovered enough from your almost-fatal attack on him.”

Tanya inwardly deflated at this reminder of what she’d done to Vaughn. It hadn’t even been because she disliked him. On the contrary, she found Vaughn funny and very charming. It was just his misfortune to have been the first of the Romanov brothers to show an interest in her. It made him the easiest one to lure to where Tanya and Pyotr might attack him.

“He is no longer the lighthearted and flirtatious Vaughn I once knew,” Vladimir added at her continued silence.

Tanya’s mood dropped even further in acknowledgment of Vladimir’s censure. One thing had become very clear to her before the attack and since: the seven Romanov brothers loved and protected each other. They also became an impenetrable unit the moment they perceived a threat to any