History
Born in Moscow, Russia Nadia never met her father, nor has she ever had any interest in changing that. Her mother, Alena, was more than enough of a parent for her.
Alena was a business savvy woman who never seemed to sit still for a moment. Instilling a strong work ethic into her daughter from a very young age as she built an empire to surround her.
Nadia wanted for nothing, though she worked hard for everything that she had. Alena had very high expectations of her daughter, and while there were moments that Nadia stumbled, she always delivered.
The day came when Nadia reached 18, her mother giving her a portion of the company and giving her only one goal. Expand.
And Nadia did, creating an international branch in America and shipping herself off with just a hope, a dream and a whole lot of determination. Working tirelessly and setting all her mother’s lessons to good use, Nadia would succeed in creating one of the most successful branches within her mother’s company.
She would continue to expand her branch and focusing solely on work until the age of 34 when she met the man of her dreams at one of her piano recitals.
Viktor seemed to have it all, the looks, the money, the determination and the drive. A man that could move mountains with her help and her guidance. Their love was strong and quick, the two of them getting married in only a year.
Things changed within those first two years of marriage, Viktor wanting a family while Nadia wanted to continue focusing on her career and her work. Distance grew between them, and whether it be the stress or just dumb luck, Nadia would find herself developing a new power and discovering a secret she would never have expected.
One night, as she headed to bed, she was struck with a memory that was not her own. A vision of her husband and some other woman doing the unthinkable in. Her. Bed. She wanted to believe it as some sick dream, but the memory was too real. She would confront her husband and learn the truth.
Only 37 the thought of divorce embarrassed Nadia, seeing it as a failure on her part and unwilling to accept that things had to end between them. She would attempt to continue working things out with him despite the turmoil that lay between them.
Another month, another woman and while Nadia continued and continued to forgive, Viktor continued to disappoint. It would begin to affect her work, and Nadia would find herself staying out later and later.
One of these nights she would be approached by a kind man, and figured that if Viktor was going to sleep around, she might as well too. Only, it was more than sex that this man was after, and when he bit her, Nadia fought.
The fight would lead to a bloodlust, and a bloodlust would leave her on death's door, the only thing keeping her from fully crossing that threshold being the blood of the vampire and the promise that she would heal.
Days later, while bruises remained, Nadia would finally start feeling like herself again, enough so that she was willing to go out on her birthday. Dragging Viktor to a recital of her favorite pianist, though they would never end up making it.
The memories are a blur, she can’t recall if it was an argument, bad luck or her own emotions that had the car spinning off the road. Can’t remember what happened for minutes after they crashed; all she knew was that she’d woken up when Viktor hadn’t.
In her heart she knew that she should have been dead with him, knew that it was more than a miracle that she had survived. She would place one final kiss on him that night, a goodbye that had her unknowingly ingest the blood needed to complete her transition.
Two weeks later she would find herself reawakening with the taste of blood, a human would die that night, and after some very broad research, Nadia would understand enough basics to at least survive.
Years would pass of Nadia adjusting to her new life, learning what rumors were fake, and which were real. Speaking with other vampires briefly but never sticking around long enough to create any lasting bonds. Keeping her face scarce, and unwilling to get close after the experience that she’d had four nights prior to her birthday.
The bonds that she would create however would be with the few psychics that she came across, realizing that her words held a power over them and utilizing it to the best of the abilities. Creating willing blood bags for her to enjoy when needed.
No longer bound to the responsibilities that had lorded over her in her human life, Nadia felt freer than ever, doing what she wanted, when she wanted and letting herself dictate the way things happened around her.
That was until a psychic decided to carve his own path within her life, killing a psychic that she’d been feeding from and demanding that she change him or lose him forever. An ultimatum that she did not like but couldn’t resist in taking. How much had he cared for her to kill someone in this manner? How could she risk losing that devotion?
It was a learning process though, having never changed someone before, but after a couple of attempts, she would get it done. Renaming her psychic Misha and claiming him as her own for the rest of their undead lives.
She would teach him what she knew, leading him to the arctic and getting them both comfortable with their new roles. This would not be another Viktor. She wouldn’t allow it.
A close eye and suggestion were what kept her sane in their time together, using her power often when her suggestions lacked. Twisting his knowledge and taking advantage of both his love and his kindness.
She would make sure that she was the only one for Misha, though Misha most certainly wouldn’t be the only one for her. She would continue making bonds with the psychics around her, and within a few years, yet another bond would offer a twist to her path.
A psychic, John, would grow too close, see her in the same light as Misha, though his expression of love would not be accepted as easily for her this time around.
John would catch her one night with Misha, and then he’d start to watch, and then he would wait. Biding his time before setting fire to the cabin, a protective shield wrapped around her to prevent the flames from touching her, but not from touching Misha.
She’d be dragged from the cabin then, so riddled with emotions that she could hardly resist the pull of her arm, allowing her body to be taken into John’s car and driven away from the scene.
Misha was dead, he had to be, no vampire could have survived that.
Grief, shock and fury pulsed through Nadia then, her Misha, dead. Her creation, destroyed. How much work had she put into him? How long had she spent piecing together the perfect man? Such potential wasted. Wasted. Wasted!
There would be no ultimatums for John, no praises offered for the life that he’d taken. She did not need another Misha. She did not want another Misha. She’d kill John that very same night.
Grief would have her leaving the state entirely, she did not need reminders of what had been ripped away from her. Did not want to recall her failure.
She might have forgotten Misha if not for a photo, a photo of a very familiar face playing piano at an unfamiliar event with an unfamiliar woman. Who was this brunette bitch? Why was she singing with him? Why was Misha allowing this? Lotus, where was this? Colorado. Alder Heights.
She needed to fix this.
