The daytime shift. It was better than you had reason to hope for and you knew it – especially after the events of the last month.
After Dimitri had blithely announced his 'love had faded' your entire world had imploded. Incapable of even getting out of bed, you'd missed numerous shifts in the dead-end den for delinquent Dhampir souls, otherwise known as Guardian Records, earning you a docked payslip and Guardian Croft's ire.
And then there was Adrian. He'd stopped by the night Dimitri had torn your soul asunder. Sure he'd used talking about Eric Dragomir as an excuse, but one thing had led to another, and you'd nearly had sex or let him feed from you – desperate to feel anything after Dimitri's words had crushed your heart. But in the end, all you'd felt was the inescapable certainty that Adrian wasn't the one for you, and that letting him believe he could be was every bit as cruel as what Belikov had done to you. So you'd ended it with him once and for all – sparking Adrian off on a drunken bender that lasted a week where he announced loudly and vociferously to half of Court that you were a bitch, blood whore, and a prick-tease.
By the time Guardian Croft had visited your dorm room to tell you if you didn't get back to your job filing then you'd be stripped of your Guardian title and privileges, life had pretty much hit rock bottom. Your love life and career were in tatters plus you were broke, and if you didn't return to work immediately, you'd also be homeless. So you'd closed your heart, buttoned your lip, and spent your time sequestered with the sequenced letters and symbols that now constituted the end point of your career.
Which is why you plastered a smile on your face as you listened to Lissa now.
"I know it's not what you'd hoped, but it's an active guarding position, and you'll be guarding me!" she announced buoyantly. To all extents and purposes, she sounded upbeat and positive, but her inner-dialogue through the bond told a different story.
She was worried about you. You didn't spend time with her anymore, and while she knew it was because Dimitri had regained his Guardian status and had been reinstated as her primary Guardian, it still hurt that you were never around. Which is why she'd gone so far as to pepper Guardian Croft with a volley of well-constructed arguments, aided by a healthy dose of compulsion, to convince him that you should be appointed her daytime Guardian.
"I've arranged things with my other Guardian," she continued, sensible that you didn't even like to hear his name. "You'll be working 7.30 am to 7.30 pm – which means we can have breakfast and dinner together every day!"
You gave her an obligatory smile. She'd neglected to state the obvious – that three-quarters of the time you were on duty guarding her, she'd be asleep! But it was better than you had reason to hope for, and you knew it.
It had been a month since you'd gone onto permanent day shift; two since Dimitri had cauterized your heart with his wily words. It never ceased to amaze you that the fleshy muscle contained within your rib cage still functioned, despite the nefarious injuries inflicted upon it by a man you still loved yet could not bear to even think about. Yet you were still standing, so perhaps your wounded heart was more hardy than you'd had reason to suspect? It was still beating ergo you were still hurting.
Standing in front of the mirror in your Guardian black and whites you carefully pinned up your hair, securing any wispy, flyaway pieces with hairpins. It was so long now – almost waist length when it was out. You should cut it, but you couldn't bring yourself to. Words from a happier time flickering on the edge of your consciousness, preventing you from symbolically and literally cleaving one of the few memories you had of him that didn't hurt. And in a time where every word, every look, was a harsh reminder of what wasn't – what hadn't and never would be – you'd take any scrap of comfort you could; holding it to your chest like a drowning waif while the waves of emotional distress buffeted you, threatening to pull you under.
You didn't need to dress so formally. Tonight was just dinner at home and maybe a movie with Lissa and Christian. You could have worn something much more casual, but you'd see him at handover. No doubt he already thought so lowly of you – you refused to give him reason to think even less. So you put on your own Guardian façade, smoothing imaginary creases from your black pants, checking the buttons on your pristine white shirt were fastened correctly before pulling on your black jacket. With a final look around your blank, anonymous dorm room you picked up your keys, and a small black bag, making your way across Court to the house Lissa shared with Christian.
You paused outside her door, psyching yourself up for what you knew was to come. Lissa's house was rich and warm – as filled with love, delight, and happiness as your quarters and life were devoid of it. And while you were happy for her, at times being surrounded by another person's joy was oppressive. Stifling, even. Even here outside you could feel it, pressing in on you through the bond – a miasmic influence perniciously trying to thaw your heart – tempting it with a false hope that one day things might improve. Yanking the bond closed you looked at your watch, counting down the seconds until 7.30 am.
As was your custom, you knocked on the door. As was his custom, he answered it.
"Guardian Hathaway," he intoned, carefully looking somewhere over your left shoulder. As though the very sight of you offended his eyes. And truth be told, perhaps it did.
"Guardian Belikov," you replied, your voice every bit as professional as his. Sanitized and devoid of emotion, your eyes fixated on a tiny piece of fluff on his familiar duster. A minuscule imperfection that hinted that perhaps he was a mere mortal after all, and not the God you'd always believed him to be. He certainly had the feet of clay. You'd know – he'd used them to great effect trampling your tender hopes and dreams.
"Anything to report?" you asked, keen to end this twice-daily torture.
"Nothing. I will be back at 7.30 pm," he said, leaving the house, and you, behind him. It was the same words every day. A stark reminder that he was only there for her, never you. That your presence was so horrific, it demanded his immediate departure.
Inside Lissa was setting the table for dinner. If seeing Dimitri twice a day was an exercise in wretchedness, the daily meals with Lissa and Christian were not far behind.
"How was your day?" you asked, ever eager to prevent the intrusive and almost inquisitorial inquiries about your own activities. Because there were only so many times you could admit you went nowhere, did nothing and saw no one without it sounding evasive - even though it wasn't. A probably unintentional byproduct of Lissa's beneficence, day shift meant you were perpetually at odds with your small number of friends – working when they had their limited leisure time and visa versa. It was ironic that Lissa's kind-hearted attempts to bring you out of your shell had only isolated you more.
Dinner and a movie over, Lissa and Christian retired to bed, and you set about killing the next eight or so hours. The first week you'd nearly died of the doldrums. Daytime television was banal at best, brain numbingly boring at worst. Deciding you couldn't endure months or years of that, you'd online ordered numerous at home workout DVDs. Cardio, strength training, muscle building – anything you'd been able to get your hands on.
Lissa had let you order a few pieces of equipment for the erstwhile unused ground floor gym, and over the last few weeks you'd fashioned yourself a schedule; get changed into workout gear, workout for three and a half hours, watch an episode of Game of Thrones while you stopped for a mid-shift meal, workout for another three and a half hours, get changed back into black and whites, repack your bag, set the table for breakfast and wait for Lissa and Christian to rise. Eat, do dishes and be waiting by the front door at 7.30 pm to trade places and a handful of words with the man who broke you.
Despite the frequent drills, it was the first time you'd heard the attack tone sounded at Court. A cacophonous claxon bouncing off the walls and hard surfaces declaring a breach of the wards and a direct attack on Court. Even in slumber, your body responded to the alert, and you bounded out of bed, immediately throwing on the closest articles of clothing – cargos, crop top, and a tight long sleeved Tshirt. Stopping only to pull on your combat boots and grab your stakes, you looked at the clock, mentally working out where Lissa was likely to be, and the quickest way to get to her.
1 am. Lunchtime. That's right – Lissa was having guests for lunch today, so she'd be at her house. Running faster than you could ever remember running before, you booked it to her house, cursing its usually insignificant distance from your own quarters. The undulating waves in your stomach proved this was no drill or practice session. As incomprehensible as it seemed, Strigoi had penetrated Court.
On full alert as you ran, you could see Strigoi fighting a group of Guardians down a side street. Mentally making a note to discount that as a potential escape route, you continued to run, arriving at your charge's doorstep some three minutes after the alarm sounded.
"Guardian Hathaway coming in," you announced through the front door before using your key to enter. Dimitri would no doubt be on duty, and it was poor form to enter the space he was guarding without declaring yourself.
Inside shocked, frightened eyes turned to regard you. Lissa, Christian, Tasha, Camille Conta and a young woman whose familial look suggested she was probably a Badica.
"Eight to ten Strigoi on Tarus Place engaged with an equal number of Guardians," you informed Dimitri and another Guardian you didn't recognize. They had apparently been talking strategy, so your information was welcome, earning you a curt nod from Dimitri. The first time he'd looked at you since you'd become Lissa's Guardian. Scratch that. It was pretty much the first time he'd willing looked at you since he'd been restored!
Checking Lissa and the other Moroi were safe, you joined the Guardians planning.
"If there are Strigoi on Tarus we need to move the Moroi to the closest bunker," Dimitri growled, his brow wrinkling in deliberation.
Your eyes transferred to his. As Lissa's primary and secondary Guardians, you were both well aware of the location and distance to each of the closest emergency safe spaces. One you immediately discounted as it would require a precarious passage through Tarus Place. The second was a two or three-minute walk away in the direction of Court. The problem was it was a large bunker, and the likelihood other Moroi would head there was high. All it would take was one self-centered Moroi to secure the outer door, and you'd be locked out with five Moroi to protect.
"The East Avenue bunker," Dimitri declared, reaching a conclusion at the same time you had. A small shelter, it would take you in the direction of the wards, but there wasn't much out that way. The hope was that the Strigoi would already have passed through that area by the time you approached it. "Peters you take near guard. Hathaway, you and I will take left and right far guard."
Far guard being a relative term in a situation like this, as always you couldn't fault Dimitri's logic. It was doubtful that Guardian Peters, as you now knew him to be, was as skilled a fighter as you or Dimitri. It made sense for him to keep close to the Moroi, and keep them moving, while you and Dimitri secured a safe passage.
"Prepare to move out," you warned the group of terrified looking vampires standing to one side. "We're heading to the East Avenue bunker."
"Why can't we stay here? It's safer to stay here and hope they miss us," Tasha Ozera queried belligerently.
You had a thousand things you wanted to say to her, none of them complimentary. But now wasn't the time to indulge in your dislike of Christian's aunt, so you promptly provided the answer you knew would immediately secure her compliance.
"Because Guardian Belikov has determined that is the best course of action," you barked, making it clear by your look and tone you would entertain no further discussion about the matter. "Christian and Lady Ozera, with your defensive capabilities it would be best for you to take the outer edges of the Moroi group. Lissa, Lady Conta and Lady Badica in the middle please."
You were careful to use the correct honorifics for Lissa's guests. It would be just your luck to succeed in guiding this parade of precious peacocks to safety only to be written-up for calling one of them by their first name without permission!
Taking your primary stake from its holster, you moved cautiously to the front door, holding a finger to your lips to indicate silence. Seeing and hearing no movement on the street you ushered the group forward, giving Lissa a small, determined nod as she passed you. If she saw you weren't flapped, she wouldn't be either. Bodyguard Theory and Personal Protection 101, you thought ruefully, finally admitting to yourself perhaps some small part of the innumerable hours spent in Stan Alto's company had proven worthwhile.
Once on the street, Dimitri led from the right while you were equidistant from the group on the left. You'd instructed everyone to move quickly but not to run. So far, luck had been on your side. Whatever target the Strigoi had, and you had no doubt they had one, it apparently lay toward the center of Court. You were three-quarters of the way there when your luck ran out – heralded by an increasingly queasy feeling. And while he might not trust you with his heart, Guardian Belikov apparently still held your shadow-kissed abilities in high regard, because he didn't hesitate to get into a fighting stance when you declared "Incoming," moments before the first Strigoi appeared, followed by several more.
Five. Not insurmountable, but far from ideal. If you didn't have the Moroi to protect, it would be so much simpler.
"Protect her," you growled at Sparky before you turned to face the undead – like always, the perverted darkness within you recognizing their similarity to yourself. Neither you nor they should have escaped death's moira, but its usurious fingers had exacted a price for your dereliction. Strigoi paid for immortality with their soul. And for your dalliance in the realm of shadows? You'd paid for it by becoming irrevocably linked with your savior – taking her darkness to give her a life filled only with light. A life you were now going to protect – or die trying.
As the first Strigoi threw itself toward you, you saw a ring of fire surround Peters and the Moroi. Christian, no doubt. You were relieved – it gave them a modicum of protection while you and Dimitri tried to neutralize the threat. Pulling every last bit of Lissa's darkness into yourself, you engaged with the Strigoi in front of you, staking it almost instantly. It was almost too easy. Turning to face the next threat you could see Dimitri had also got one down. And so it continued – less a deadly dance and more of a massacre as you cleared the area of the undead. These Strigoi had been new. Only hours old, if you had to hazard a guess. Probably a distraction to the main event. The ring of fire around the Moroi extinguishing at the same time as the last Strigoi, you urged your party forward.
"We're nearly there," you encouraged, trying to sound in control and unperturbed. While Lissa, Christian, and Tasha had a hold of themselves, the same could not be said of Camille and the Badica girl. Their resolve was wavering, and you couldn't combat if you had to cart a catatonic Moroi.
Coming around the last corner before the entrance to the bunker you discovered you hadn't been the only group to aim for this location; Strigoi, Dhampir and Moroi bodies littering the path in front of you.
"Get ready," you ordered, shooing your charges toward the bunker opening, after ordering Peters in first to check the space was clear.
It was, so the Moroi were about to enter when Lissa noticed one of the Moroi was still alive. Grievously injured, their grip on this mortal coil tenuous at best, Lissa insisted on healing the unfortunate. Through the bond you could feel the warm, love and goodness she was conjuring and magnifying within. It became almost overwhelming, and at the very brink when it became unbearable she poured it into the hapless Moroi – his wounds and injuries knitting themselves closed in front of your very eyes.
"Take him in with you. Now!" you barked. Camille, the Badica and Peters were dragging the unconscious Moroi inside, ducking under the low entryway, when disaster struck in the form of Strigoi – one appearing directly in front of you. Noting the chalky white pallor where time had long ago given up trying to find purchase, you recognized him for what he was. An ancient.
Another was facing off against Dimitri. It looked every bit as aged as the one you would be battling. But just as he was about to engage with it, it burst into flames. Perhaps not enough to incinerate, but sufficient to give it one hell of a surprise. That moment of distraction was all it took, and Dimitri was able to send it to the afterlife.
"Dimka! Quick! Get in here before more come!" Tasha shouted. Guess that answered the question of who lit the Strigoi, you thought before returning your full attention to the horror that stood before you.
It looked at you and grinned, impossibly white teeth complimenting its ghostly appearance. He wasn't going to be defeated easily. In fact, you wondered if he could be defeated at all. From the corner of your eye, you saw Dimitri moving around to the bunker opening, ushering Tasha and Christian inside.
"Take care of them, Guardian Belikov," you said, keeping your voice clear of longing and affection. Where there was one, there could be many, and he needed to lock them in the safety of the bunker; where three feet of steel and concrete would vouchsafe their well-being. It was your final goodbye as you prepared to pay for their lives with your own. Because you of all people knew 'they come first.'
Dimitri faltered. He'd always told you not to hesitate, but there he was – leaving himself, and them, open to attack. You didn't need to look at him to know his thoughts – that he was weighing up the risks of helping you versus saving them. It was one thing you loved about him; that his first instinct had always been to protect you. At one time it had been the thing you both feared most. But that was before life had taught you there were worse things to fear than losing the love of your life.
"NOW Comrade!" you roared. "I can't do this if she's not safe!" you screamed, hoping to God he'd oblige what was likely your dying wish. But before you knew for sure, your enemy was upon you.
He was fast. Faster than any Strigoi you'd fought before.
"I see your friends have left you," he taunted.
"They come first," you said tightly, gripping your stake resolutely. The one you'd almost killed Dimitri with in Russia. It had become special to you, and hopefully this time you would use it with more success. The battle was long and harsh. Every move you tried he'd bettered before you'd even concluded it. You were outmaneuvered, outclassed and out of options.
He backhanded you in the temple, and the world started spinning as you hit the side of the bunker; your head bouncing off the metal skin with a thwack. You slid down the side, your legs giving way beneath you. Completely bemused, your eyes met those of the monster before you. His lips were bared, and annihilation was guaranteed in his gaze.
Leaning forward, as though to embrace your imminent demise, you reached toward his pant legs, grasping and then tugging, pulling his pants down around his ankles. A smile graced your lips at the Strigoi's outraged expression. At twelve or two hundred, no one enjoyed being dacked!
He reached for his pants, and you almost lazily reached up, using the last of your strength to stake him. One moment he was there, and the next he was not; just one more Strigoi corpse, waiting to torrefy in the morning sun. Using the side of the bunker to steady yourself you stood up, retrieving your stake from his thorax. That tubular piece of silver meant so very much to you and damned if you were going to leave it as his prize, not yours.
Trailing your hand along its side, you walked parallel to the bunker. You needed to get away from this place. Strigoi might return, and you'd do Lissa and her companions no favors by leading others here. Yet as you walked to the doorway, it didn't appear to be entirely closed.
"I killed him…" you whispered, so tired you could barely get a word out. Was there a shuffle behind the door or did you imagine it?
"Belikov?" you asked again.
Nothing.
But then the door opened an inch, and a pair of eyes you'd spent months trying to forget peered through the gap.
"Comrade?" you whimpered as the door opened and a strong set of arms helped you inside. Depositing you on the floor in the dimly lit room, he put his shoulder to the door and closed it, using both hands to spin the circular handle, moving the five-inch metal lock rods into place.
You were alive and locked with eight others in something that paradoxically resembled a mausoleum.
Shaking with cold, despite the fact you were dripping in sweat, your Guardian's eyes took in the scene before you. Little more than a domed room with an electric heater in one corner, and a tiny alcove to one side that presumably concealed a toilet, there was a single faucet for water on one wall and nothing else.
There had been gym mats and blankets – but these had already been distributed. There, closest to the heater and its meager warmth, were Lissa and the injured Moroi. Both were out cold, resting on gym mats and covered with blankets, Christian curved protectively against Lissa.
"Is she ok?" you asked, worry lacing your voice. You tried to get up, but it was beyond you just then.
"She's fine," Christian said, looking at you gratefully. "You gave us time to get inside safely." He didn't spell it out, but you appreciated he'd understood just how far you'd been prepared to go for her. How far you'd already gone.
"That's good," you replied lamely, a relieved smile on your lips.
It was cold in the bunker, your initial assessment that it was tomb-like coming to mind. The blankets were all gone, as were the sleep mats, several of the Moroi using two to maximize their comfort. With only a thin cotton top and a layer of sweat that was quickly cooling, you were freezing. So scooting across the concrete floor on your backside, you hunkered in the darkest corner, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. Pushing your hands into your sleeves, and dropping your head to your knees, you closed your eyes, hoping sleep would claim you.
"It's 1.20 am," Dimitri whispered in the gloom. You opened your eyes to look at him. The single bulb illuminating the space was so dim you could only just make out his features. "With their enhanced hearing there's a chance Strigoi could hear us even outside. So no talking unless necessary. I suggest we all try to sleep and stay warm. I'll report in to Headquarters when the sun is in the sky."
You nodded. Sleep seemed like a distant fantasy right now, despite your thumping headache and inability to collect your thoughts. But dropping your head back to your knees, you'd give it a try. Anything was better than listening to the Moroi whisper about how uncomfortable they were!
"Rose? Are you alright?"
His voice sounded like an angel, or maybe you meant a devil? In either case, it seemed to caress your very soul – reminding you of the times in Russia where you were sheltered from the horrors of reality by his venom.
"I'm fine," you said with a shiver.
"Rose you're injured and freezing. You need to get warm."
You shrugged. The Moroi were all suspiciously quiet - none of them willing to compromise their comfort by considering yours.
"Come here; you can share my mat and blanket," he said, the selfishness of those you'd protected not lost on him.
"It's fine Belikov," you replied wearily. Right now even attempting to get up was probably a feat you couldn't manage.
"It's not," he said, lithely standing and coming across to where you sat. His gaze flitted over you, finally resting on your battered temple.
"Come with me," he murmured, picking you up and carrying you to his mat.
"Dimka? Poor Rose is injured. Why don't you share my blanket and mat and she can have yours?" she suggested. "I'm sure Rose would be more comfortable with some space to spread out."
With two mats, a couple of blankets, and positioned close to the heater, Dimitri would undoubtedly be more comfortable cuddling with Tasha. And the thought of that made you feel colder and more alone than you had when you were huddled in the corner.
"Thank you Lady Ozera," Dimitri replied stiffly, "but it's appropriate the Guardians stay closest to the door," he immediately rebutted.
Positioning you on one side of the mat, himself on the other, the two of you lay facing one another.
"Come closer," he ordered, grabbing your hands and growling when he felt how cold they were. Pulling you firmly against him, he guided one of your hands under his duster, placing it between his sweater and his jacket where the warmth from his body helped coax feeling back into your frigid digits. The other he tucked between the two of you, where it rested above his heart. Pulling his duster around you and himself, he then flicked the thin, ineffectual blanket over you both before snaking his arm back under the blanket and around you.
The warmth was instantaneous. Not from the blanket or Dimitri's body heat. It was being in his arms that did it. Something you'd dreamed about for so long. Back at the Academy, he'd never been able to hold you as often as you wanted. In Russia the holding had been proprietary and predatory rather than pleasurable. Yet Russia had been the last time you'd felt your love's embrace. Now lying in his arms again it all came flooding back; the tender hopes of a devoted heart and the bitter paroxysm of unrequited love.
But you were prepared to endure tomorrow's sting of repudiation. It wasn't anything you hadn't faced before. So you cuddled in closer to Dimitri, banishing your mental litany of 'love fades, mine has' in favor of an eidolon of Dimitri as yours; if only for a few hours.
Your head was resting on his arm, and when he tightened his arms around you. It pulled your face closer to his chest, his aftershave cosseting you with its comforting scent. The last time you'd smelled it this acutely was the night you'd shared in the cabin. Your solitary night together when he'd promised he'd never let anything happen to you. Little had you known it would have been more profitable had he pledged to protect himself.
The bunker was quiet, everyone sleeping or at least feigning it. The latent tension in your love's body told you he was not asleep. How could he be? Surely your presence in his arms must be as discomfiting to him as it was hallowed by you? It was a capricious reminder that yours was a lonesome love affair. Since his restitution you'd offered him your ardor again and again, but the only thing as unalterable as your regard was his steadfast refusal of it.
'Love fades, mine has.' The thought alone was enough to send your mercurial mood plummeting, and you were unable to prevent the traitorous tears that trickled down your cheeks to disappear into the darkness. But somehow Dimitri was not so oblivious as you'd believed.
"Oh Roza," he whispered sadly, his arms pulling you yet closer still – until you could feel every curve and plain of him pressed hard against you. His lips were in your hair brushing at your ear as he made the softest, soothing noises, his hand caressing your back. "You're safe. I've got you now."
And those words were all it took. What had been a trickle became a flood. Yet the whole time he held you, soothing you as months of pain engulfed you. He probably didn't understand that 'I've got you now' could hurt as much as his other four words had. Because in a situation like yours, hope was a far crueler commodity than yet another day of a stiff and soulless 'Nothing to report.'
You were trying to pull yourself together, to mentally segregate the thoughts of loss and pain and banish them to the part of your mind you only allowed yourself to explore when you were alone. A guilty little pleasure – the way you masochistically used his renunciation to emotionally flagellate yourself – beating any residual hope down with it.
Yet as your attention wandered back to the here and now, you were confounded to find his lips upon you. Delicate, noiseless kisses in your hair as he all but crushed you against him. He was rocking you gently, shushing you as his lips caressed your locks. With his back to the crypt's other occupants, you were hidden from their speculative regard - because at least one here would be a vicarious witness to any attention Dimitri gave you.
Your tears halting, you didn't stop to ponder your actions. With the certainty this was your only chance, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. Nothing surprised you as much as seeing tears in his eyes, too. Then you both leaned inward, pausing for just an instant before your lips met.
"Do you think anything happened?" Christian asked, his voice tickling at the edge of your brain as you surfaced into wakefulness. "They're holding each other very tight."
"Don't be ridiculous," Tasha growled. "It's just cold in here."
"It would be nice if something had happened," Lissa said sadly. Through the bond you could see the two of you through her eyes, and you had to admit it looked far from innocent; Dimitri on his back, your face nuzzled against his neck, his arms clasped around you under the blanket, his cheek resting on your forehead.
Dimitri gave every appearance of being asleep, but you felt the telltale shift as his breathing changed before his thumb started softly stroking your side beneath the concealment of the blanket. A final wordless gesture. You squeezed his hand before you groaned a little, pulling away from the comfort of his embrace.
"What time is it?" you asked, opening your eyes to see Christian, Lissa, and Tasha staring at the two of you.
"Nearly 8 am. You'd better wake Belikov," Christian replied as you reluctantly shifted further from your love.
"I'll do it!" Tasha said eagerly, gracelessly stepping in front of you and blocking Dimitri from your gaze.
"Dimka?" she cooed, leaning over to stroke the side of his face. "Time to wake up, sleepyhead!"
Her voice was cloying and made your skin crawl.
"Lady Ozera," he acknowledged opening his eyes, his voice sounding unwelcoming and frigid, even to your ears.
"Oh Dimka!" she tittered. "Old friends like us don't need to use titles!" Still, she stepped back, recognizing she had overstepped the mark.
"Peters, Hathaway we should report in," Dimitri announced, dismissing Tasha and calling the two of you to his presence. Guardian protocol for a direct attack on Court was to get your Moroi to the closest available bunker and maintain radio silence until it was light. It would now be daylight now, so it was appropriate to attempt a call.
"Do we know the identity of the man Princess Dragomir helped?" he enquired.
"Not yet, he's still out," Peters replied.
Dimitri nodded at Peters before his eyes met yours. His voice softened slightly when he said, "Let's do this."
You held your breath as he pulled his cell from his pocket, dialing the numbers for Guardian Headquarters. You let out a sigh of relief when the call was answered with the usual brusque greeting.
"Guardian Belikov reporting in," he announced listening carefully to instructions and then listing the occupants of the bunker. Several questions later and he rang off.
"It was an attempt on the Queen," he declared, the entire company hanging off his every word. "The wards are back up, and losses have been minimal. The worst of the fighting was in this area."
He went to the door, issuing instructions nonetheless. He carefully spun the large spherical handle retracting the thick steel bolts from their housings. With a final look at yourself and Peters, he opened the door, stepping out stake drawn. You followed, surveying the scene before you. The Dhampir and Moroi dead had been removed – the Strigoi cremated by the sun, now little more than dust in the wind.
"All clear," you declared to those waiting within, lifting your hand in somber greeting to a group of Guardians you knew who were doing clean up nearby.
One by one the Moroi emerged into the insipid morning sunlight, Guardian Peters bringing up the rear carrying the still unnamed Moroi Lissa had healed.
"Peters – take the Moroi to the infirmary then proceed to check-in at Guardian Headquarters. Hathaway and I will move the Princess and her guests back to her house and then join you."
The trip back to Lissa's house was short, but you were still on edge. Once you reached the property, Dimitri directed you to stand guard outside with the Moroi while he went from room to room, checking the basement, closets and other dark places to make sure no Strigoi were lurking. Once the area was declared clear, you helped the discomfited Moroi inside.
A knock at the door startled those within. Castile and Edwards, two Guardians you knew from school. They were here to relieve you so you and Dimitri could check in at headquarters.
"I'll come with you, Dimka," Tasha announced self-importantly. "I fought alongside you – they'll want to hear my part."
You managed to avoid vocalizing your outrage. 'Fought alongside?!' More like lit a Strigoi to give Dimitri a chance to escape before condemning you to face an ancient alone.
"That is not possible, Lady Ozera," Dimitri replied stiffly. "All Moroi are to stay indoors under guard. I will tell them about your… contribution. Someone from headquarters will be in touch if they wish to know more."
And then it was you and he, walking through the morning sun, the warmth of the eternal golden orb blissful after the cold of the bunker. From the corner of your eye, you could see Dimitri regarding you. Unusually taciturn, even for him, you wondered whether he was remembering last night, too? Lips meeting, gently at first, and then more firmly. Your almost inaudible whimpers as you offered your love to him one last time – his soft moan voicing his acceptance. But many things couldn't survive the sun's keen light, and perhaps the precious moments shared last night was such?
You reached Guardian Headquarters without breaking the silence. It was as though you were each loathe to say anything to acknowledge the way you'd clung to one another in the darkness. Providing your report with brutal efficiency, by 8.30 am you found yourself out the front, a twenty-three-hour furlough in front of you.
"Rose!"
It was the voice that haunted both your dreams and your nightmares. A voice you'd heard in almost every enunciation – from exultation to agony and everything in between.
"Dimitri," you said uncertainly, turning on the stairs to face him.
"Rose… Can we talk? We need to talk," he corrected himself.
"It's ok," you said, taking in his hesitant expression. "Heat of the moment, dark room, lots of adrenaline," you joked, each word piercing your heart like a dagger. "I get it. It was nothing."
His face fell.
"That wasn't what I was going to say. Was it nothing to you?" he asked his voice breaking and his eyes holding an uncertainty that was so unfamiliar on his face.
"No. It wasn't nothing," you owned. "Not to me."
"Come to my room, Roza?" he whispered, taking your tiny hand in his own.
Not trusting your voice you nodded, tears welling in your eyes.
As soon as he saw them, he moved to the step below you, pressing himself against you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Of their own accord, your arms wrapped around his neck. And there on the front stairs of Guardian Headquarters, he kissed you. A kiss filled with hope and love. A kiss you wanted to lose yourself in forever, but you had to pull back to breathe. And when you did, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling lovingly.
"Come on Roza, we need to talk," he said, taking your hand and kissing it before walking down the stairs with you, leading you toward his dorm.
AN: Something a bit different for me! I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please review or message me if you'd rather!
I have a few different projects on the go at the moment (original / VA and starting in on another Fandom). If you're interested in staying up to date, check out my Facebook page:
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