Demetri brushed away a lock of hair from my eyes.
"Roza," he breathed. My heart swelled in my chest. Roza, my special Russian namesake always did this. The arrhythmia that made everything light. Everything, perfect.
My hands swept across his form. "Dimi," I smiled warmly. My voice was thick with something I didn't normally possess: smoothness.
He moved in. Grasped my hand. Time stood still, but if we weren't careful, this little piece of affection that I fought so hard for would dissipate. I knew him well. Hard to read, but I'd already been close. Last year, when we'd been close to... well, you know. I was ready. Ready to give everything I had left in my soul. I even forgot Lissa for a second, while my lust for Demetri bound us together so well it was almost impossible to notice anything else. I wouldn't have noticed a fire burning down everything around us. And remembering now, Demetri couldn't have either. At this point, I was almost thankful to the man that kidnapped Lissa and came close to killing her. But I had a conscience. And a duty. I snapped back quickly into reality. So quickly in fact, that I was no longer thinking of Demetri. My connection with Lissa was burning through. She was with Christian, and I didn't need the connection to know what she had in mind.
I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. Demetri took my chin with slender fingers and smiled that rare genuine grin that I had missed. He clearly understood, and didn't require a straight answer from me. "Rose. Breathe." I always wore my emotions on my face. I had one hell of a shield: I could take care of myself. "Fine," I sighed. "Time to get back to work. Let's get this over with." I already knew more than most novices, but that didn't stop Demetri from grilling me every chance he got. Our training sessions became less forgiving each time we met.
He thrust a silver stake into my hand, and pointed towards a dummy that stood near the opposite side of the room. "Make it neat. I want you to surprise him. This'll count against the Strigoi."
I was small enough to advance quietly. On the step that would have brought me face to face with a real Strigoi, my head began to throb harshly, and I dropped the stake. The lights dimmed without meaning to, and Dimitri's voice seemed too far away for the size of the room. My knees hit the mat first, and after that, well... I don't remember. I just don't remember.
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