Vladimira's P.O.V
My father took us home in silence, knowing in about an hour or two he'll have to willingly let me into his mind, his memories.
I shouldn't feel bad for making him think about his dead mate or anything for that matter, but I do feel bad.
"Get situated first. Change into something comfortable, you'll be drained of all your energy once you come out," He says without looking at me once we're inside the house.
Distracted, I nod and bound up the stairs to change into leggings, a large shirt and a cardigan to fight off the cold.
When I get back down stairs, my father has a fire going and he is sitting on the couch, his eyes trained on the carpet.
"You're ready?" He asks as he sits up, his blue eyes scanning over my body to make sure I'm okay, uninjured.
I nod and sit down in front of him on the couch. "I'm ready."
He pulls me into a hug before I can say anything else, his chin resting upon mine. I awkwardly pat his back. "Relax or it won't work, Mira."
Relax. Breathe. Think of the baby inside you.
Once the last though crosses my mind, my shoulders automatically sink in relief at the thought of my unborn child, safe, alive, growing.
Before I know it, I feel like I'm floating, my body growing light and airy, almost like I'm unconscious.
Darkness sounds me, then, suddenly, a burst of light and a scene is playing before me. Surprisingly, my father has also followed me into his mind, his hand gripping mine tightly.
It's 1656. Naples, Italy. Cold weather and tiny little snow flurries that don't stick to the ground fall from the sky slowly. Women in corseted dresses and men dressed in their usual get ups.
My father is easy to find. He draws attention to himself easily with his clothing that's fit for a warrior.
Women glance in his direction occasionally, their eyes scanning over him before they turn around and blush.
Instead of keeping a cold face, my father winks at them playfully, nearly making half of them fall over in excitement.
Jared soon appears beside my father and motions towards a building that's obviously holding a ball. "Come on, Rhea is here." A dreamy look covers his face."She's an angel," He swoons.
My father groans—something I've never seen him do before—and eyes the doors of the building, he then looks at Jared. "Tell me, Jared, when will you and Rhea complete the mate bond?"
Jared shivers in the cold. "I don't know. Completing the bond means children and I'm not ready for that. My child will probably hate me," He frets.
A small laugh leaves me when I think about how much Lilli loves her father, how much of a daddy's girl she is.
My father looks down at me and smiles. "If only he knew."
Jared drags my father into the ball before he can challenge him on his assumption.
"Look at all the women, Dmitri!" He smiles. "I'm sure it won't be hard for you find one to take home."
My father shrugs him off with a chuckle. "Go find Rhea. I'll be around."
I can't help but watch as Jared scurries off to a woman with perfectly curled hair and a simple but beautiful dress.
He kisses her gently before pulling her down a hallway, surely trying to get more privacy so he can initiate more intimate things with his mate.
With a huff, my father treads through the crowds, and I watch in amazement as people deliberately move out of his way, both werewolves and humans.
For about an hour he scours for women, using words to melt their hearts and surely seduce them, but in the end he release them from his trap, seeming unsatisfied.
"By that time I was ready for my mate, tired of having simple flings with women," My father informs me.
Squeezing his hand gently, I lean into him.
Suddenly, the orchestra changes the mood and couples join hands to dance.
My father had made his way to the bar by then, but he turns around abruptly when he catches scent of something, his eyes flashing red momentarily.
"Mate," He mutters under his breath.
Almost immediately, his eyes land on a red-head.
Gasping, I examine the woman. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said I look like her," I breathe.
Just like my father, she's the epitome of perfection. Perfectly clear skin, perfect lips, perfect hair, perfect body movements.
She laughs, and I find myself listening to a glorious sound, like a symphony of angels all in one person's vocal chords.
That's my mother. That's the women that died for me.
I look up at my father to see his eyes closed, a look of pain and sorrow on his face, yet a small smile plays on his face from the sound of my mother's laugh.
"Reid, you kid too much." She smiles at a man that is a few inches taller than her.
From afar, I can see my father's fists balling up, anger etching onto his face as he watches another man dance with his mate.
Yet, I can't really focus on that as I'm still stuck on how floaty her voice is, how motherly she sounds, like she couldn't hurt a fly.
"You're a lovely dancer," He compliments as he twirls her around.
The song eventually ends and Reid leaves her to get a drink, just like my father had said.
My mother moves towards the wall, but my father is already moving towards her, his eyes locked on her.
"Do you need a dance partner?" My father greets her.
She glances up at my father and smiles. "My partner is off getting drunk. He said he would be back soon but I know that's a lie," She laughs, her eyes showing a hint of annoyance before disappearing.
My father holds out his hand. "May I have this dance?" He asks politely.
A giggle escapes from my mother. "You may." She places her hand in his and wraps her other arm around his neck after he has wrapped his arm around her waist.
The memory seems to fast forward, showing bits and pieces of them dancing and smiling. We then land in another memory.
It looks like it's late. My mother is pushed up against a building, my father's lips crushed against hers.
"It's the same day, believe it or not. Just later, way after the ball has ended and Reid is laying in their with his drinking friends, too drunk to piece together two thoughts," He jokes.
Her hands run over his face and through his hair, desperately trying to find a place to rest. "This isn't right," My mother moans out as she pushes my father onto her neck.
"And how did dancing lead to this?" I ask incredulously.
My father shrugs. "Probably a mixture of the mate bond and bodily contact. Then again, it could have been all the flirting we had done," He answers without looking away from the memory.
"And yet, you don't run back to Reid." My father kisses my mother on the lips again.
She wraps one of her legs around my father's waist and pulls him to her more, erasing any chance of him running away from her.
"Take me somewhere private, away from Reid, Dmitri," She whispers to him.
He nods wordlessly before picking her up bridle style and beginning to carry her somewhere else.
How could he have restrained Xavier enough so his eyes didn't change?
It's not long before they're back at a nice cottage, my father's I presume, and kissing again.
"No sex," My mother moans out. "I still haven't lost my maidenhead. I'm not quite ready yet," She tells my father.
My father nods, his blue eyes gleaming with happiness. "Whatever you wish." He runs his hands down her body and kisses across her breast that are gloriously elevated by her corset.
The memory fades out and, too quickly, I'm met by my father creeping through the night, his body movements hard to detect.
"I'd say this is three weeks later," My father mutters to me. I nod wordlessly.
Soon, he arrives at a house.
My mother eagerly pops her head out the window and smiles at my father. "Hurry up. I have something I want to show you!" She smiles.
Expertly, my father climbs into her room to find my mother in a night gown, her hair pulled into a neat ponytail.
He kisses her softly. "And what's the surprise that awaits me?" He teases.
Nervousness and uncertainty crosses her face, but nonetheless, she begins to push the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and I find myself in a state of shock as she reveals herself to a man she has only known for three weeks.
My father steps back, his smile wiped off his face, lust filling his eyes. "Saffron... are you sure?" He asks, his voice deep and husky.
She nods. "We haven't known each other long, but I feel like I can trust you with anything. I'm ready to give you my maidenhead." She smiles nervously.
I know I should close my eyes, I know I should cover my ears and prepare for the thing I just know is coming, but I can't.
The romance inside this tiny room is so suffocating, it's almost like a love story. Not very PG-13, but it's a love story nonetheless.
Taking my eyes away seems impossible.
Even as my father pushes her on the bed, gripping her breasts while pushing his pants down. Even as my mother pulls his shirt off and assists him in taking the rest of his clothes off.
"Vlad," My father says to me in warning. "Your eyes," He stares at me until I cover them.
I can still hear them, albeit my efforts to tune it out. Nope, I hear everything.
"It hurts, Dmitri," She whimpers.
They kiss. "It will for a minute. I won't move, tell me when your ready," He soothes.
I peak through my fingers shamefully, and sigh in relief when I see the covers pulled over both of them, covering their bodies from my eyes.
My mother's brown eyes flash in alarm when a thought crosses her mind. She grabs my father's shoulder. "Pull out, Dmitri. I can't get pregnant, not yet," She orders him.
He nods.
It's another minute or two before my mother allows him to move, and quickly, the sound of labored breathing and soft slapping resides from the bed.
"Faster," She moans timidly. "Just like that, Dmitri!" She angles his face so they're staring into each other's eyes.
They kiss harshly, rough and needy, leaving them breathless.
Love surrounds the two of them, and it seems like they're aware of the emotions floating around this room too.
"Reid didn't deserve me, but you do, Dmitri. You're everything I've been looking for." She runs her fingers down my father's back and starts to meet his thrusts.
Sweat starts to appear on his face after a few minutes, his hair falling in and sticking to it.
My mother's face is flushed and sweaty. Hair sticks to her skin as her breathy moans turn to loud shouts.
"Shh," My father orders, his hand coming up to cover her mouth. "They'll hear us and we'll possibly get in trouble," He jokes.
She laughs softly. "We seem to not care about the risks of getting caught. We're going behind everybody's backs, including Reid's," She reminds him excitedly.
A deep groan comes from my father which makes my mother perk up.
I feel so awkward suddenly, like I'm intruding on this moment.
My father looks back at me and notices my eyes aren't covered anymore. "You're watching because...?" He trails off, waiting for me to answer.
Smiling, I wrap my arms around my stomach. "It's romantic. Awkward? Yes, but it's romantic," I defend myself.
He rolls his eyes. "I trust you to be mature enough about this, Vladimira, and not go off telling people what I've shown you," He states.
I nod and then turn back to the memory. From the looks of it, the main event is done and they're both panting, slowly coming down from their euphoric highs.
My father is resting atop my mother, cautious of his weight on her. She doesn't seem to care either way.
She had pulled my father's head onto her breasts and started to drag her fingers through his hair. "That was amazing."
The memory fades out and I can't help but smile.
My father loved her so much. He would do anything for her.
But, my smile is wiped away when I hear my mother screaming.
"No, Dmitri, you're going to kill him. Stop!" My mother is on her knees beside my father who is kneeling over Reid, ramming his fists into his face repeatedly without remorse.
Reid tries to deflect and even return the punches, but my father is riled up, anger pumping through his veins as he fights to keep from shifting.
My father holds back a growl. "How dare you call Saffron a slut when she is nowhere near such a thing?" He pauses so he can answer, his fists covered in blood.
Relieved that he stopped, my mother crawls over to Reid and frowns. "Jesus Christ, Dmitri, you probably broke his face!"
Reid spits out blood. "I called her a slut because she refused to give me her maidenhead, and then you waltz into our relationship and suddenly she can't even focus on me. She fucked you and she held out on me our whole relationship," He seethes.
My mother frowns. "You didn't deserve it, Reid. You were more focused on your alcohol rather than me. We're finished," She hisses before popping up and storming off.
Despite her absence now, my father wraps his hand around his throat, suffocating him. "You come around either of us and I'll finish this," He threatens.
Once again, the memory fades out, and I turn to my father. "You didn't actually make that threat come true, right?" I ask slowly.
"Nope." He looks down at me and pulls me closer. "Your mother wouldn't let me do something like that despite his rude words," He explains.
We're thrown into a forest before I can applaud my father on not making that threat reality.
The memory shows my father pulling my mother through the forest, her unprotected and bare feet surprisingly clean.
"Where are you taking me, Sweetheart?" She questions softly.
My father stops walking in the middle of a clearing and pulls off his shirt. "I need to show you something. Don't freak out, please, Moya Zvesda," He mutters as pushes his pants down so he's completely nude.
I advert my eyes before he can do so and keep my eyes strictly on my mother, not wishing to see my father's... mini-me?
"Dmitri, what are you do-" My mother gasps as he begins to shift, her eyes filling with shock and horror.
The sounds of popping and grinding bones makes my mother cringe, her back now completely against a tree.
He shakes out his coat and takes a single step towards my mother.
She releases a muffled scream. "Stop, don't come near me, Dmitri. You're... You're a beast!" She freaks out.
A soft whimper comes from my father as he backs away, his ears flattening against his head.
"That really stung," My father says to me.
"I bet it did!" I reply incredulously.
My mother stumbles backwards. "We've had sex, Dmitri, more than once! You didn't think once that the fact that you're not even human was important?" She whisper yells.
He pads towards her and I watch as she stumbles back again, fortunately, her back hits another tree, making her escape useless.
My father rubs his body against hers, his fur ruffling against her nightgown.
Quick pants escape my mother when my father purrs. "What are you doing, Dmitri?" She frets. "Please, don't hurt me."
His head snaps up towards her before he shakes it vigorously. She hesitantly pats him on the head. "You won't hurt me?"
He shakes his head again.
More deep breaths reside from my mother as she tries to swallow all of this information. "How did this happen? Why me?" She asks.
Because you're his mate, I think.
He steps back and shifts back into his human form, and I once again divert my eyes. "We need to talk about this. You can freak out again later," He instructs.
My mother sighs and nods. "This is crazy," She mutters. "Too crazy for me."
By the time she has calmed herself down, or what appears to be calm, my father is dressed.
"I wanted to tell you sooner, Moya Zvesda, but I didn't know how you would react. You can't tell anybody though, okay? They'll-"
My mother cuts him off with a startled cry. "They'll hunt you down and kill you. I hate to admit it, but human or not, I can't live without you," She cries.
With a gentle tug, my father takes her hand. "I'll explain everything Saffron and then give you time to think."
I zone out during the time he's explaining to her, only tuning in on important parts like him tell her about mates or how he's a king.
"You're a king?" She reiterates in astonishment. "That's more than I bargained for." She laughs.
He cups her face and lays a soft kiss on her lips. "I'll give you time to think, give you time to decide if you want to continue this relationship." He kisses her once again before standing up.
My mother plops back on her bed and shakes her head. "The answer is obvious, Dmitri, but for now, go home and find me tomorrow. I'll give you my answer," She answers mischievously.
"She was such a tease," My father mutters to himself.
Time seems to fast forward like the first memory and the sight of my father, red-eyed and tense, stalking towards my mother actually scares me.
Just like my father said, she's examining a midnight black horse whose eyes are wild yet calm at the same time. The horse nuzzles into my mother's caressing hand.
"Saffron," My father calls out. "I have awaited your answer all night. Tell me, Moya Zvesda, what have you chosen?"
My mother turns towards my father and stares into his red eyes for a short second, she then strides over to him, her lace dress gliding along with her. "There's a room in the back where they keep supplies, we can talk there," She whispers as she glances around for her aunt.
Once they're in the room, she kisses him. "Yes, Dmitri. I don't care what species you are, I'll always love you. Plus, I like the idea of being your mate." She blushes. "The idea of us not being able to live without each other, being able to feel one another's emotions. I'm connected to you, Dmitri," She swoons.
My father kisses her, his hands pushing strands of her hair out of her face before cupping it.
Their bodies push against each other, no doubt igniting both of their bodies with sparks, a fire that circles both of them, egging them on to new levels.
"Do you want to mark me?" My mother moans when my father's kissing her neck.
A deep grunt comes from my father, making my mother laugh. "I'll take that as a yes."
He pulls away, red eyes staring into brown eyes. "I'll mark you once we've told your relatives about us. Then, if you want, we'll move to the castle," He plans out.
Excitement sparks in my mother's eyes. "I've always wanted to visit Russia. Let's tell my aunt now!" She squeals. "I'm not ashamed our love, Dmitri. I'll shout it from the rooftops," She swears.
He kisses her on the cheeks. "If that's what you want, Saffron, we shall do that," He answers calmly.
She squeals again, his hand already in hers, subject to her vice-like grip. Her aunt rounds a corner and stops.
"Saffron, who is this?" She questions, her glove clad hands folded in front of her.
My mother looks up at my father and smiles. "This is Dmitri, my man, other half, soul mate. What ever you want to call him."
Her aunt sighs. "What about Reid, Darling?"—She raises her hands onto her hips—"I thought you were crazy about him," She assumes.
My mother shakes her head. "He had an alcoholic problem, but Dmitri respects me, he makes he happy, Aunt Cecilia." She grips my father's bicep, seeming like she would rather go home with him instead of her own aunt.
Her aunt laughs softly. "This is really random, Saffron, but as long as you're happy and continue to behave yourself, you can stay with him," She lowers her voice at the end.
The memory fades out and I look at my father.
His lips are pressed in a thin line, and for the first time in forever, I can see his emotions on his face.
Pain, sorrow, agony. It's all there, all brought on by seeing my dead mother.
Could he actually cry over this? It would be the first time I've seen him cry.
He takes in a deep breath. "It shows the memories I remember and pride the most. If I'm correct, it should be about a year and a half later," He guesses.
I furrow my eyebrows. "Why a year and a half later?" I wonder.
"Because after your mother moved into the castle in Russia, everything calmed down, nothing exhilarating happened, well, not enough to make an unforgettable memory. I'm sure it picks up when your mother suggests the idea of a child."
Just when he says that, a scene bursts to life showing my mother massaging my father's shoulders as he sits at his desk filling out something.
"My training's going well, Dmitri, but..." She trails off, uncertain on how to continue with her sentence.
He drops his feather pen—how archaic—and turns to my mother. "What's bothering you, Moya Golubushka?" He frets.
She sits on his lap and rests her head on his shoulder. "I want a child," She replies simply.
My father stiffens. "Are you sure? Our child will be a werewolf, and considering you're human, there's risks to the pregnancy," He warns.
Horrible risks. Death being one of them.
She shrugs before kissing him. "I want a child, forget the risks. Let us try for a child tonight, Dmitri." She smiles
My father smiles back. "Anything for you, Saffron," He promises.
The scene fast forwards and I'm met with a full frontal view of my father pulling off my mother's long dress and exposing her body.
"I wasn't prepared for that," I mutter under my breath, drawing my father's attention to me.
He laughs. "Cover your eyes then," He suggests. "It gets worse," He jokes, but I can see that he remembered this night vividly, and it didn't get worse, if anything, it got better.
I was going to protest, say that I'm old enough and I can handle a little sex, but I stop when my mother lays on her back and spreads her legs—no blankets covering her whatsoever.
If I don't cover my eyes, I will see everything.
My father covers my eyes just when my mother reaches up and starts to undress him in the memory.
"I don't think you want to see this," He says again. "I rather not have my daughter see me like this."
Sighing, I nod my head. "I agree."
Like the first memory similar to this one, I can still hear them.
Moans and groans, the slapping of skin, my mother begging my father to speed up or go harder, both of them whispering how much they love one another, and occasionally, soft growls from my father.
"Are you sure?" My father asks.
Though my eyes are closed, I can take a guess at what's about to happen.
"Yes, Dmitri," She moans breathlessly. "I'm ready."
I try to ignore when my father releases a deep grunt and my mother shrieks out in pleasure, egging him on.
After a minute, my father takes his hands from over my eyes and sighs.
The sight before me is my mother cuddling with my father, his eyes closed as he breathes in her scent while she plays with his hand, intwining their fingers then pulling his hand to her chest just to repeat that.
She was his anchor before I was born. I've never seen somebody touch my father like that and not get snapped at.
"I loved her so much. She was just so perfect," He closes his eyes and fights off tears.
It's all my fault she's gone. If I hadn't been born, she would be alive, and my father would be happy.
Fighting back all the bad things my father did to me, I wrap my arms and him. "I'm sorry she's gone, that you had to lose her so early. She would have been a better Luna Queen," I whisper.
My father wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. "You're okay, Mira. Just fine," He reassures me.
Even though it's a weird way of telling people they're doing their job right, I'm okay with it, satisfied with his approval.
I'm brought back to reality when a soft gasp sounds from behind me.
"She kicked, Dmitri! Our baby girl kicked!" My mother squealed as she rushed towards his office, but he was already outside, a wide smile on his face.
Her stomach was a smooth mound that poked out from her dress, just prone to knock something off a table or shelf that's too close to her stomach.
My father gets down on one knee and kisses the bump. "You both seem much happier now that you're in your second trimester," He points out.
She tilts up his chin. "We are. I'm not sick and our baby girl is healthy. What more could I ask for?" She states.
They share a kiss, their love still burning just as bright as when they first started their relationship.
If and when I find my mate, I want this to be our goals. He won't give me my first child, and I'm sure neither of us saved our virginities for one another.
He'll have a step-son, but that shouldn't matter I hope.
"How'd you do it?" I whisper.
My father looks down at me in questioning. "Pardon?"
"How did you keep your love so strong?" I ask, truly amazed.
He doesn't answer, his eyes still on the memory, then, he turns to me. "Honesty, communication, love, understanding. We had our arguments, but arguments are healthy for a relationship, it shows that you care. All of those just came so easy with Saffron. It literally pained me to not tell your mother something or not talk to her, even if it was to just ask how her day was going. Sex played a part too," He finishes.
Honesty, communication, love, understanding. Do my father and I do any of those things in our relationship? Do we have healthy arguments?
No; the answer is no.
I clear my throat. "I understand sex. There's just something about being exposed to the person you love that just melts some invisible barrier of judgement."
Tears stab at my eyes when I think of Adam, how he was so acceptive of me. I'm sure if I had told him about werewolves sooner, he would have adjusted.
"Exactly," My father mutters.
My hand comes up to rub my belly, so I can calm myself. Nothing calms me faster than the thought of Strawberry, healthy and in my arms.
Possibly because I can't wait for that—"that" being motherhood.
A hand comes to rest on the small of my back. "The last memory is quite saddening. I don't think you want to see it." He frowns.
'Don't make him watch his mate die again.' Greer pulls herself out of the crevices of my mind.
I nod, giving my father permission to pull us out of the montage of memories.