A Lesson Learned
Aurora Borealis Chapters 62
DPOV
Requested by ClarissaExplainsAlot on tumblr
He was pulled from his torpor by the sound of a door opening somewhere in the distance. He had given no one permission to access his room, so the sound immediately alerted him that trouble was at hand. Lying frozen, not moving a muscle, he kept up the appearance that he was still deep in lethargy as he waited for the interloper to appear.
The other Strigoi's scent hit him, tensing his muscles and adding fuel to the fiery rage that was already burning within him. A moment later, when the intruder paused beside the bed, Dimitri's hand shot out, fingers locking around the neck of his… sire. Nathan's eyes widened in shock, but only for a moment. Sneering down at his progeny, he spoke nonchalantly, as if his very existence were not in peril.
"We're going into the city to hunt."
"And I'm supposed to believe that's why you're creeping into my room—infringing on my space?"
The blonde man tried for a blasé shrug, but the movement was forced and unnatural looking. "Galina sent me to see if you were interested—I could care less if you believe it or not."
"Never enter my room again Nathan. If you do, I'll end you."
"You'll try," he shot back.
Dimitri's lips turned up in a feral grin as he exuded the minutest of efforts, squeezing his hand like a vice. Satisfied by the gurgling sounds the other man made, he shoved him away. "I'll succeed."
Rising from the bed with a fluid, cat like movement, he attempted to ignore the throbbing ache between his legs—a reminder of his brief encounter with Roza in the dream he'd just been pulled into. Had Ivashkov not interfered, he would have taken her then and there, achieving the sexual release his body demanded. The sexual frustration coupled with the irritation he felt towards the spirit user, increasing the slow burning rage that always lurked—threatening to erupt without provocation—inside him. Stalking out the door he almost growled when Nathan fell into step beside him—he hated the man with every fiber of his being. The blonde was weak; in time, despite Galina's threats, Dimitri knew he would destroy him.
"Does this mean you're going to grace us with your presence?"
Eyes narrowing at the sarcasm in the other man's voice, Dimitri contemplated what had been offered. A hunt might be just what he needed to satisfy the desires warring within him—well, one of them, at least. Nodding slowly, he collected his duster before making his way out of the mansion—Nathan following at his heels like a well-trained dog.
A short car ride later and he was once again blessedly alone. His tall, muscular body stalked the streets with no particular goal in mind. He wandered aimlessly, passing several people that would have made easy kills—a change from his usual behavior. For the first time since his Awakening, he passed them by without a second thought. After his most recent overindulgence he did not feel the burning thirst quite as strongly as he normally did; that in itself was enough to warn him. Should he drink too deeply, he might once again fall into another semi-conscious state. Now that he knew Nathan was trying to catch him unaware, he'd have to cut back on feeding. It would be better to suffer a bit from the pains of unmet thirst than to be staked or beheaded while in an unprotected lethargic state.
He wandered for perhaps an hour—more than a sufficient amount of time for the others to have satiated their hunger. With a sigh of boredom he glanced around him, realizing he'd been wandering aimlessly, with no set goal in mind. He turned, slowly making his way back to the car, his thoughts focusing around the woman that had held the key to his heart from the moment she'd entered his life. Roza. No matter what he did or where he was, she had always haunted him, even after his Awakening. Now that he had acknowledged the fact that he still had feelings for her, his mind kept revolving around her, try as he might to stop it.
He had only walked a few blocks when he felt a faint tickling sensation in his head, immediately followed by a strange feeling of fullness— as if his brain were somehow expanding within its cage of bone, smashing up against the confining protective walls of his cranium. Pressing the heels of his hands against his temples he snarled, enraged by the sharp, painful surge. As it slowly abated he sensed another presence merging with his consciousness. Letting out a low, furious growl, he realized at once who it was that dared spy on him.
Ivashkov.
He stood, frozen in place, unsure of what action to take for the first time since his Awakening. There was no way he could return to Nathan and the others with the Moroi in his head. Who knew what the spirit user might see—what he might overhear? The last thing he needed was for Ivashkov to ascertain the exact location of where he'd been staying—the drunken idiot would probably use his ties to the queen to launch an attack, sending out the cavalry in hopes of intercepting Rose before he could awaken her. Perhaps he should simply go to one of the many safe houses Galina kept around the city. Losing one of them to the guardians wouldn't really matter. But first… first he'd try to handle the situation here and now, before it became a problem.
Dimitri closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, using the meditative techniques that Rose used to poke so much fun at. Focusing his thoughts, he forged them into a black missile of rage, launching it strait at the area where he felt Ivashkov lurking, demanding he get the fuck out of his head.
Infuriatingly enough, nothing happened. It hadn't made a damned bit of difference.
The Moroi was unfazed, as if he were unaware his presence had even been noticed. Cocking his head to the side, Dimitri concentrated on the connection that joined them. Strangely enough, it felt… different. Focusing like this, he could feel the Moroi's thoughts racing through his mind. Amazement with the speed at which he'd been moving a few minutes before. Envy at the clarity of his sight.
Ivashkov's thoughts were as irritating as the man himself, and he wanted him gone. Determined that this time it would work, Dimitri sent a sharp slap at the invading presence, but again, it went unnoticed. He slowly realized that while the spirit user might be in his mind, for whatever reason, Adrian couldn't sense his thoughts. Even though he was receiving every moronic image that flitted through the Moroi's mind, his own secrets were safe enough, for the time being. Ivashkov clearly wasn't here by choice. The man had probably fallen back asleep, and with his defenses down, slipped across the fucking link that bound them together.
Damnation—he did not need another problem to add to his ever growing list. What if the moron accidentally slipped in at an inopportune time? What if he…
He lost his train of thought as Adrian's next broadcast rippled through his head, forcing a predatory rumble from deep within his massive chest. While Moroi senses were advanced, they were nowhere near as enhanced as that of a Strigoi—just further proof that the race was inferior. Dimitri had learned to ignore the constant ebb and flow of external stimuli—it was almost like white noise to him, unless he chose to acknowledge it. Ivashkov, on the other hand, unused to having such predatory senses at his disposal, had picked up on a distant scent, and his thoughts on the matter rekindled Dimitri's earlier rage. The fool was having entirely improper thoughts about his woman and the beauty of her natural scent.
Gnashing his teeth together in frustration at the images in his head, Dimitri narrowed his eyes, his lips curling up in a sly smile. Ivashkov was trapped within him, with no way of breaking free until someone woke him. Perhaps it was time to teach the Moroi a lesson—one he wouldn't forget anytime soon. By thinking about his Roza, Adrian Ivashkov had just sealed some unknown strangers' fate. Determinedly ignoring his parasitical visitors ongoing rambling of awe over what he was seeing and sensing, Dimitri took off, tracking his soon to be victim via the faint scent that drifted in the air.
He saw the woman in the distance, standing on the sidewalk near a streetlight, and the first thing he noted was her eerie resemblance to his Roza. She didn't particularly look like his beloved, but she had long dark hair and was of a similar height. For a moment, as he approached her, he contemplated satisfying his body's irritating demands by fucking her before bleeding her. He hadn't had a woman since Roza—hell, until Ivashkov's dream, he hadn't wanted one. Upon awakening he had lusted for two things, power and blood. Sex hadn't even figured into the equation. But now… since seeing Roza… smelling her… the desire for sex was constantly in the back of his mind like an irritating buzz.
Smiling to himself, he shook his head. No. If he couldn't have her, then he would wait. Only she could satisfy the urge. Only she could scratch the itch. It wasn't just any woman his body craved, it was Roza.
Closing the distance between them, he approached the woman with a smile, careful to keep his fangs concealed. He didn't want to frighten her, not yet, anyway. "Excuse me, do you have the time?"
The woman glanced at her watch, then smiled up at him, fluttering her overly mascaraed eyelashes. "It is a little past two thirty. Still early."
His smile faded, replaced by a look of disgust. The insolent slut was flirting with him. "Yes, it is. Early enough that you could be considered as breakfast."
He was on her in an instant, being more savage than usual, his fangs ripping into the delicate skin of her throat. Latching on, he shifted his jaw, pulling downward, widening the small punctures into ragged gashes so the blood would flow freer and faster. He felt Adrian losing himself in the wave of bliss that came with feeding deeply. So good. The blood… consuming the life force… It was rapturous.
As the woman's life faded, Ivashkov somehow pulled free of his mind, leaving him once again to his blessed solitude. Dropping the rapidly cooling body into the gutter, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the slick residue that coated his lips. He'd been unusually messy tonight—and it irritated him for some reason. Studying the gaping wounds he'd made, he smiled; it looked as though she'd been mauled by a wild animal. The analogy pleased him—he was a predator, after all. He wondered for a moment if Adrian had noticed the faint resemblance to Roza. He hoped that he had—it would haunt the Moroi to know that he'd taken part—albeit as a long distance voyeur—in the death of a woman who reminded him of his little dhampir. Maybe it would drive him to drink more, disabling his use of fucking spirit. Then he would be unable to burrow his way into other people's heads.
The woman was already nothing more than a distant memory, even as her blood gave him energy and increased his strength. She didn't matter in the grand scheme of things—she was food, nothing more. Turning on heel, he left her there in the trash-strewn street without another though, setting off in search of his dark brethren.
Nathan couldn't hide his surprise when he voluntarily climbed into the back seat of the vehicle. Normally the two would quibble over driving—with Dimitri winning every time. Tonight, though, he had his reasons for not arguing. Having already been invaded by the spirit user twice in one night, he was leery that a third visit might occur while he was trapped in the car with the others. Not knowing if his expression betrayed anything when the Moroi visited, he'd decided the back seat was the safest bet—should he need to hide his face, he could simply stare out the window.
He spent the entire return trip glaring at the back of his nemesis head, his thoughts having taken a decidedly dark turn. Nathan knew of Roza's ties to the Dragomir bitch—he'd harped about it often enough since Awakening him in the cave—which meant that he'd seek to control her, should the opportunity present itself. If he knew she was in out in the world, unprotected, the blonde would hunt her. Dimitri's lip curled involuntarily at the thought, baring his fangs in a silent snarl. No. Nathan would not touch his Roza, unless he had a death wish. The only problem was that even when he found her, he wouldn't be able to protect her every hour of the day, and that was something that had to be done, as far as he was concerned. While he was out, taking care of Galina's many business ventures, he would have to be assured that she was being properly looked after, or else he would be in a constant state of worry.
If he Awakened her immediately, none of this would be a problem, but with Roza... she was headstrong. It had to be her choice. Even as a dhampir, she had a temper, and that temper would grow even more volatile when she was a Strigoi. She would make their eternal life together a living hell if she felt she hadn't had a say in the decision. He ignored the fact that he also wanted to keep her alive for as long as possible, because he didn't—couldn't— understand why he felt that way in the slightest. He simply knew that for some reason it was important that he get to spend time with her as she was now, warm and vibrant and…Roza, before the chance was lost forever.
Regardless, he couldn't keep her safe on his own. For his Roza's sake, he would have to belittle himself before Galina, and beg for her intercession. If Galina gave her blessing, no one would dare even look at his Roza. Thank God the woman still retained some of the maternal feelings she'd had for him when she'd been a dhampir and his mentor—feelings he would play on to help achieve his goal.
Realizing the car had come to a stop—the others were scurrying into the house as if dawn was snapping at their heels—he exited the car, lingering outside as long as possible, delaying his inevitable meeting with the owner of the estate. As the wind picked up, blowing loose strands of dark hair in his face, he noticed—for the first time—the sweet mingled fragrances coming from the direction of the large garden. As he wandered between the manicured flower beds, one aroma in particular penetrated his consciousness, touching the lesser being within. The man he'd once been was filled with the overwhelming desire to pluck one of the deep red roses and carry it inside with him, secreting it away to his room, where it would be a small reminder of what they were both waiting for… what they were longing for.
Reaching down he tugged one of the large blooms free, letting out a hissed breath between clenched teeth as one of the sharp thorns lodged deeply in his flesh of his thumb. As he licked away a bright drop of blood, he contemplated the flower. It was so deceptively beautiful, drawing one in with its scent and soft petals, making one forget about the hidden danger its thorns represented.
Just like his Roza.
Smiling, he stalked towards the mansion, ready to do whatever was necessary to convince Galina to aide him in protecting his perfect mate, once he brought her home.
