Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Elena took a deep breath before returning to her desk. She washed her face, fixed her hair, and spent a few seconds staring at her own reflection in the mirror, as if she needed to convince herself that she was fine. She was. She had to be.

When she returned to the outer office, she sat down and resumed her work. And, to her own surprise, she managed to focus.

Emails were answered. Mail was organized. Calls were handled professionally. Little by little, her body began to calm down. The day went on almost normally.

And then she started to notice.

Vlad didn’t call even once to ask something obvious. He didn’t get procedures mixed up, didn’t ask for help with old files, didn’t show insecurity in any decision. Quite the opposite.

Everything that had been delayed began to move forward with ease. Old contracts were reviewed. Pending issues Mark had been postponing for weeks were resolved in a matter of hours. Meetings were rescheduled. Every call sounded as if it were made to someone he already knew.

Elena watched, intrigued.

First day, she thought. And he acts as if he’s been here for years.

At one point, she brought a folder to his office. Vlad thanked her with a brief nod, his black eyes watching her just long enough to send a shiver down her spine.

At the end of the afternoon, even before the usual time, Vlad left the office. He picked up his jacket naturally, exchanged a few words with the security guard, and headed toward the elevator.

As he passed her desk, he stopped for a second.

"Good work today, Miss Lancaster."

"Thank you, Mr. Darkmoor."

He nodded and left.

---

That night, Vlad was alone, as always, when someone knocked on the door. He already knew who it was. But there was something different.

It wasn’t just the scent of his sister. There was another aroma there. Familiar.

"Come in, Valkiria," he said, without moving. "You were never that polite. At least not with me."

The door opened. Valkiria entered carrying Elena in her arms, completely unconscious. Her body was limp, her head resting against the vampire’s shoulder.

Vlad tensed instantly.

His eyes darkened… then burned into a vivid shade of red.

"What did you do to her?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. "Did you hurt her? Bite her?"

"No," Valkiria replied calmly. "She just fainted."

Vlad took a deep breath, but did not relax.

"I was going to leave her in your coffin…" his sister continued thoughtfully. "But I thought that would be far too strange for her when she woke up there."

She turned toward the stairs.

"I’ll leave her in your bed."

Vlad didn’t respond. He only watched as Valkiria went upstairs.

Moments later, Elena was laid on the enormous bed on the upper floor.

When Valkiria stepped away, Vlad appeared at the bedroom door. He stood there, motionless, watching Elena asleep.

His gaze slowly drifted down to the simple nightgown she was wearing.

"What a boring nightgown," his sister murmured. "No wonder her ex had someone else."

He crossed his arms.

"He’s an asshole."

"He might be," Valkiria replied. "But she could at least be a little more sensual."

Before leaving, Valkiria glanced once more at the bed.

"Sleep with her, brother. I brought her because you didn’t want anyone else."

She left, closing the door behind her. Vlad remained there, unmoving, watching Elena lying on the bed. He took a deep breath, then spoke softly.

"Wake up."

Elena opened her eyes slowly. The sight before her seemed far too unreal to be true.

Vlad was there.

Standing beside the bed, wearing only dress pants, his bare torso exposed. His black eyes watched her with intensity.

To her, it could only be a dream. It would be impossible to wake up in the bed of Mr. Darkmoor’s son—and even more impossible for her body to react like that to his presence.

Confused, she tried to prop herself up on her elbows.

"I’m dreaming…" she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Vlad tilted his head slightly.

"Maybe," he replied as he brought his hands to his belt and loosened it calmly. "But even if you are… nothing will happen that you don’t want."

"If this is a dream…" she murmured, her voice faltering, "then why does it feel so real?"

Vlad took a step forward.

"Because dreams," he said softly, "usually show what you try to hide when you’re awake."

She shifted slightly on the sheets.

"This is wrong…" she whispered. "You’re his son."

Vlad tilted his head, watching every microexpression on her face.

"Is that what scares you… or is it the fact that your body doesn’t agree with your reason?"

Elena closed her eyes for a second. Suddenly she felt the mattress sink slightly.

"Look at me."

Against her own resistance, she opened her eyes.

His gaze was intense. He had climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the soft mattress on either side of her legs.

He slowly extended his hand and gently took her left ankle. She shivered.

Slowly, he lifted her foot to his lips. He kissed the sole, then the top of her foot, moving up along her shin.

"Vlad…"

He continued upward, his hands following the fabric of the nightgown, pushing it up with the backs of his fingers. The silk slid over her skin like water, exposing her thighs, the curve of her hips. He stopped when the fabric gathered at her waist, revealing the thin black lace panties. She felt her breath catch.

With a slow movement, he slid the fabric aside. He sighed softly.

"Ah, Elena…" he murmured.

He watched her, his black eyes traveling over every detail: the swollen lips, the sheen of arousal slowly forming, the clitoris slightly exposed.

"You’ve been wet since you saw me. Even while trying to convince yourself it was just a dream."

He moved his hand. Two fingers slid with extreme slowness along the length of her outer lips, gathering the moisture, spreading it everywhere. She arched her back.

He looked at her again.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice deep, almost a restrained growl. "Say it now, Elena. Because after this… I won’t ask again."

Her eyes met his. She shook her head slowly.

"Don’t stop."

He leaned down. And then his mouth found exactly where she needed it most.

Elena moaned softly, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as the entire world narrowed to the sensation of his tongue—slow, precise, and utterly devastating.

"Vlad…"