It may or may not be obvious that I know very little about the Waltz.

WARNING: M-rated chapter. Probably R-rated, honestly. DO NOT read anything past DPOV if you're not comfortable with that sort of thing.

RPOV

The Ozera's had obviously taken a hit globally when Christian's parents had gone Strigoi. There was no other plausible explanation for me – why would a royal be working?

I shot Dimitri and inquisitive glance, and he responded with a noncommittal shrug. All the same, he greeted the woman with a warm hug, and a few words in Russian. She responded with enthusiasm and said something about Tasha – that wasn't something I was going to miss. My eyebrows shot up in surprise.

When Alina moved away to greet other members of the family, Dimitri turned to me.

"We went to school together. She introduced me to Tasha. They used to be quite close, Tasha used to visit all the time. She was even considering moving from the U.S., but after Christian's parents… well, Tasha didn't want to uproot him. They don't speak much anymore."

I frowned. "That doesn't seem right. Tasha didn't do anything wrong. Why don't they talk?"

Dimitri shrugged again. "Alina tried to stay in contact, but Tasha chose to cut off all ties with her family, as much as they cut off ties with her. Alina joined this business as more of a hobby, but the way the Ozera's treated Tasha and Christian…" he paused, shaking his head. "Well, she decided she'd rather have nothing to do with them."

"Does Tasha know that?" I asked incredulously. I struggled to keep my voice down. It felt like the kind of thing Tasha should know. I wasn't the woman's biggest fan, but she'd never been anything but kind to me. She seemed like the reasonable type.

Dimitri shook his head emphatically, but didn't give any further responses. Alina was asking us to separate into partners. Almost immediately, I felt Viktoria loop her arm through mine.

"I have to dance?" I hissed, at no one in particular.

Viktoria looked at me, confused. "What did you think we were going to be doing here?" she asked incredulously. "Don't worry, I'm a pretty good dancer. I'll protect you." Her valiant offer was followed by a mischievous wink.

I glanced over at Dimitri, who, ever the gentleman, was offering an arm to his grandmother.

Viktoria tugged me onto the studio floor and instructed me on where to put my hands, insisting that she would be the man this time, because she knew the dance well and also, she pointed out rather smugly, she was a good two inches taller.

Alina guided everyone through the steps of a basic waltz, and explained that her main focus would be on the bride and groom, although she would be wondering around to offer the rest of us some guidance. I hadn't done a lot of formal dancing in my time, generally being in the background during Lissa's events, and all I could do was hope that Viktoria was as good as she thought. Secretly, I hoped Dimitri wasn't good at dancing – that would just be unfair – but somehow I knew he would be. I craned my neck to watch him for a moment after the music started.

Viktoria rolled her eyes.

"You know, if you want to look at him so badly, we can move to the other side of the room."

I opened my mouth, hoping a witty retort would fall out of it, but I was speechless. "I'm not… it's not like – you – I…" I blustered. Viktoria raised one eyebrow in a response that was so like Dimitri that I flushed with embarrassment. "He's nice to look at."

Viktoria didn't say anything about my pathetic attempt to save face, and I was thankful. He was nice to look at, but what kind of answer was that?

"We're friends," I continued unnecessarily, but unable to stop myself. "I have a boyfriend."

"I didn't say anything," Viktoria reminded me. But she did strategically swing us around so that I could see Dimitri better. He seemed to be having a quiet argument with Yeva. I could see the look in his eyes – the one he got whenever someone was telling him something he didn't want to hear. I'd seen that look a lot in our time together.

"We're friends," I repeated firmly, but my eyes were trained on him.

Viktoria's innocent shrug irked me, but there was obviously no point in trying to convince her. I huffed angrily, and turned my attention towards the dance. I'd waltzed before, with Adrian, but it had seemed easier then. Probably because he'd spent that night trying to distract me from all the royal Moroi whispering about us.

Alina moved past us gracefully, quickly reviewing our techniques and making us swap roles. I took the lead, albeit a little clumsily. Viktoria laughed, but helped me figure out the step pattern. In no time at all, we were gliding – rather gracefully, might I add – through the room. There were a few incidences of clumsy footwork, but otherwise I would say I danced pretty well, for a Guardian.

The song ended much sooner than I'd anticipated and we came to a haltingly awkward stop. Alina was focused on Karolina and Tamas, but she waved a hand for us to continue. I resigned myself to waltz for the rest of the afternoon – we were obviously here for moral support, more than anything.

Before we could start moving again, Viktoria was distracted by something over my shoulder.

"Babushka," she murmured, moving away from me. I turned to see Yeva, pale and leaning heavily against a wall, Dimitri coaxing a cup of water into her hand.

"Is she alright?" I asked as we made our way over.

"She may have overexerted herself," Dimitri answered, but he sounded unsure of himself. I assessed the ancient woman, marvelling at the fact that she hadn't had a coronary yet. She may have been a century old, but Yeva was tough as nails.

Weakly, Yeva waved a hand at her grandson and muttered something feebly in Russian. Dimitri frowned, and opened his mouth to argue. Viktoria stepped in, and after a brief disagreement, Dimitri conceded.

I crossed my arms, tired of being left out of conversations. "What's happening?" I asked, perhaps a little too hotly.

Dimitri took my arm and led me back onto the dance floor. "Vika will stay with her." Again, his tone sounded strange.

"Will she be alright?"

"She'll be fine," he answered, a humourless smile gracing his features. "Look, she's already perked up."

As indeed she had. Yeva and Viktoria were whispering conspiratorially, watching us move to the floor.

"What's going on?" I asked abruptly, pulling us to a stop.

"What do you mean?" he asked, releasing my arm.

"Why is Yeva acting so weird today? She didn't even want to come on this trip, until you said you were coming. And then she held the door for me, and picked out that dress…" I paused, thinking. "I think the only mean thing she's said about me all day was after you gave me that baba thing."

"Babka," he corrected. "And she wasn't talking about you."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure it was Russian for 'look at this girl stuff her face.'"

"Well, you did eat it very quickly," he replied, smirking.

"I was hungry," I defended. "And I eat everything quickly."

He shook his head. "She wasn't commenting on your behaviour, she was commenting on mine."

"Oh."

Dimitri didn't seem to want to elaborate, so I allowed myself to be towed the rest of the way onto the dancefloor in silence.

"So, should I lead?" I asked jokingly. "I've done this dance twice now, you know."

"Yes, and you did it very well," he said, placing a hand on the small of my back. I smiled, pleased with the compliment.

"How do you know how to dance anyway?" I asked, as he pulled us effortlessly into the waltz.

"My mother loves to dance," he answered. "She used to dance with us when we were little."

I felt a pang of jealousy. Even if my mother had been more of a prominent figure in my childhood, I was sure she wouldn't have taught me how to waltz. "Oh. My mother taught me how to punch stuff."

"She did a good job."

I cast a guilty look at his cheekbone, thankful that the bruise had cleared up.

His hands were pleasantly warm and gentle as he guided me through the dance. As usual, Dimitri was endlessly patient, even when I blundered and stepped on his foot twice. It was surprisingly not awkward, slow dancing with my ex-lover in front of his family. Everything I did with Dimitri felt natural.

"Don't look at your feet," he instructed, pulling me fractionally closer.

I pulled my eyes away from the floor, exasperated. "Then where am I supposed to look?" I demanded.

"Look at me," he answered simply.

Not looking at my feet definitely made the dancing easier, and after a few moments the movement felt normal. I laughed, exhilarated, and Dimitri smiled down at me affectionately.

I had to admit, he was insanely good looking when he smiled… Unfairly good looking.

I found myself admiring the life in his eyes, something I hadn't seen more than a glimpse of since St Vlads. I slowly became aware of how close we were, and how the pleasant warmth of his hands was making my palms tingle. My hand on his shoulder clutched reflexively at his shirt, feeling his warmth through the fabric. Subconsciously, I took a step closer.

We were millimetres from touching, and far closer than a traditional waltz required. There was something so inviting about being close to him, so comforting about being back in his arms. His eyes moved over my face, drinking in every detail as though he'd never looked at me before. That vulnerability I'd felt in the tailor shop came crashing back as I wondered if he would be disappointed. My concerns were burned to ashes when his eyes stopped, trained on my lips for a single, heady moment.

Electricity hummed through my veins, shooting my heart with adrenalin and making my head spin. His gaze drifted back up to mine, filled with a heavy intensity and a spark, that even if I had never seen it before, I would have recognized as desire.

He wanted to kiss me.

My breath caught in my throat, my eyes wide. He smiled, a slow, mischievous smile that made my heart pound as he pulled me flush against him. Even spending six resentful months apart, that look still made my knees weak. There was a hot, intense promise of pleasure behind that smile, and my thoughts were consumed by memories of stolen kisses and heated moments.

Fantasies of his fingers tangled in my hair, his lips trailing hot kisses down my neck. His hands gripping my hips as he pinned me down to the bed, groaning my name…

Dazed, heart pounding, I barely noticed we'd stopped moving. Dimitri's breathing was fast and shallow, his hand on my back holding me in a powerfully intimate embrace. Every part of me was hot-wired, every nerve raw as I pressed against his chest…

"Ahem."

Dimitri dropped his hands and pulled away like I'd burned him, his expression stunned.

I turned to Viktoria, filled with both gratitude for her interruption, and frustration.

"Yeva's feeling better," Viktoria commented, her face betraying no hint that she knew what she had just interrupted. "I was wondering if I could have my dance partner back, Dimka."

"Of course," he muttered. He glanced at me, traces of confusion and concern lingering in his eyes before he turned away.

Dread seeped into my stomach as Viktoria took my hand. I'd recognized that look on his face. Dimitri's tactic when anything like this happened between us was to avoid talking about it – and that meant he would avoid talking to me completely, if that's what it took.

I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't disappoint Lissa and return to Court without him, but more importantly, I couldn't lose him again. I knew, as Viktoria and I moved through the motions of the dance, that I would have to corner him tonight and, regardless of how messy it might get, we'd have to talk it out.

After three weeks of trust-building, we'd ruined all of our progress in fifteen seconds. Fifteen fucking seconds.

DPOV

What the hell had I been thinking?

I'd been about to kiss her, for God's sake.

She was standing too close to me, and that look in her eyes – fuck, that look. She'd had the same effect on me this afternoon as she used to at the Academy. I'd wanted to kiss her – hell, I'd wanted to do more than kiss her. I'd forgotten where we were, and who we were with – I'd even forgotten that the last year had even happened. It felt like an old fantasy, the kinds of things I'd imagine on boring night patrols.

Except in the fantasies, I actually kissed her.

I grunted in frustration, slapping the tiled wall of the shower with the heel of my palm.

The water was ice cold, but it was doing nothing to the stubborn erection I'd had to uncomfortably disguise the entire drive home. I thought about blaming my condition on my self-imposed dry spell – Irena had understood my desire to take things slowly with us, but now I was wondering if it was too slow.

Maybe if Irena and I were sleeping together, I wouldn't be thinking about Rose like this…

I shook my head, angry that I'd even considered it. Irena was my girlfriend, not a tool I could use to get over my ex. And none of this was Rose's fault. It was mine.

Sure, it was easy to blame her. It was easy to make it her fault, for being so beautiful and desirable, for taking that step closer so that her chest brushed against mine, her scent clouding my thoughts… Her fault, for looking at me like she wanted to kiss me. For having hair that felt like silk, and eyes that could stare into my soul. For having those lips, and that body… God, that body.

She could make men fall to their knees. She didn't even have to try. Although, that dress… That dress she'd worn today could kill a man, if he wasn't expecting it. I'd almost had a heart attack myself, and wondered idly if there was a dress in this world that she could wear that I wouldn't want to rip off her.

I shook my head, hitting the wall again. I couldn't keep thinking about her like this, regardless of how she looked in or out of clothing.

But still… It couldn't hurt to take care of myself, this one time. Maybe it was just because Rose had been there, in front of me. Maybe if Irena had been there, looking at me like that, I would be thinking about her right now. If that was the case, jerking off in the shower once wouldn't be such a big deal.

This can never happen again, I thought to myself firmly. My cock jumped in excitement as I turned the hot water back on, anticipation tingling from my fingertips and curling in my stomach.

Regardless of the circumstances, this might be just what I needed.

The water was scalding, but my skin tingled pleasantly as I took my erection in hand, squeezing tightly as I stroked, quiet moans slipping through my lips distractedly.

I moved slowly, trying to focus on the tiles in front of me, desperately fighting back the primal part of my brain that wanted to think about her, the part that didn't feel guilty for wanting to fuck her senseless.

God, I wanted her to be here with me. I wanted her hand caressing my cock, her lips on my chest, her moans filling the air around me.

No, I couldn't think about her…

"Fuck," I whispered hoarsely, my eyes closing. "Roza…"

My strokes quickened, tightening around the head at the end of every pass. I could see her, straddling me, her hair clinging to her chest as she moved, my fingers biting into her hips as I guided her down onto my cock.

I groaned, abandoning all resistance and urgently drawing on as many memories as I could.

She was biting her lip to hold in her moans, her eyes filling with ecstasy as I made her cum, her back arching, her hands cupping her breasts, squeezing, teasing her nipples with her fingers. I could feel her cunt squeezing around me, pushing me closer to my own orgasm.

"I want to feel you cum," she moaned, desperate brown eyes locked with mine. I managed a tight smile, trying to gain control of myself. I let one of my hands slide from her hip, brushing my fingers against her clit. She jerked roughly against me, crying out uncontrollably.

"You first."

She laughed shakily. "I think I already came first," she teased.

I shook my head, grinning. "Cum for me again," I whispered, circling the pad of my thumb against her. She closed her eyes, her hands coming down from her breasts and resting on my shoulders.

"Oh. Right… there," she whimpered, rocking gently, impaled on my throbbing cock.

I gasped, tightening my grasp around my hard prick, my hips bucking against my hand.

"Cum for me," I urged her desperately, my fingers working her clit faster. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes squeezed shut. Every movement of her hips drove me closer, every time I felt my cock push into her pussy, I thought I would explode.

She bit her lip, and I responded by thrusting roughly up against her, groaning.

"Roza. Fuck… fuck…" My blood was like fire, prickling and singing its way through my flesh, imagining her hands, her lips… Her voice…

"Dimitri… Dimitri – I…"

"Look at me," I begged. I wanted her eyes on mine when she came, I wanted to watch that high – there was no hope of me riding this one out. I was too close, and she was too incredible. Her eyes opened lazily, lost in ecstasy. "Tell me when you cum," I ordered, my voice rough.

"Mm-hmm," she moaned.

I let out a string of Russian curses, trying to hold myself back. She smiled slowly, a wickedly pleased look in her dark eyes, and rocked against me once in a way that was clearly for my enjoyment. Gasping distractedly, my thumb on her clit stopped moving, my dick pulsing inside her, so close to blowing. She felt amazing.

My breathing was ragged, the hot water burning my back mercilessly.

I couldn't handle the slow way she was rolling her hips. It was driving me crazy, pushing me so close to the edge. I placed one hand on her hip, and used the other to prop myself up.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, confused.

"I need you," I admitted desperately. She let me roll her onto her back, and I settled between her legs. Her smile was bold, and teasing.

"Bit desperate, are we?" she purred, dragging a hand down my chest. "I thought you wanted me to come again?"

I smiled darkly, teasing her slit with the head of my throbbing erection. "You will," I murmured. I pushed into her slowly, pulling one of her legs up onto my shoulder.

"Oh… Fuck…"

"Fuck. Yes."

My thrusts started slow, and measured, but her moans… God, her moans drove me wild. I thrust into her hard, picking up my pace, slipping my hand back down to her pussy to stroke her clit. I clenched my jaw, fighting off my orgasm, trying to keep my word.

"Cum for me, Roza," I commanded hoarsely.

The noises she made were incredible. I could hear my name, and curses, and indistinguishable sounds of pleasure.

"Please," she whimpered, her hips grinding against me, her fingers desperately pinching at her nipples. "I'm going to…"

"Cum for me."

The sight of her orgasming around my cock, her head thrown back on the pillow… That alone would have tipped my over the edge, and the feeling of her walls tightening around me, her hips rolling rhythmically against my own… I thrust into her one last time, letting myself fall over the edge with her, her name falling from my lips like a prayer.

"Roza… Roza…"

I drew in deep, gasping breaths, opening my eyes to the tiled bathroom. The euphoria of my orgasm was wearing off quickly, the reality of my situation suddenly settling around me. The searing water suddenly didn't feel warm enough, and I shivered.

Without a haze of lust holding back rational thought, I started to feel guilty about my loss of control.

I must have been a total idiot, thinking about that night. I couldn't have just been normal, maybe imagined a scenario that hadn't happened in real life. At least I would be able to distance myself from that, able to call it a fantasy…

Uncomfortable, I finished my shower and towelled off in a hurry, for once looking forward to sleeping on the couch.

I slipped into my pants, and slung my towel over my shoulder. Staring into the mirror, I couldn't keep the look of disgust from my face. "That was pathetic, you know," I muttered at my reflection. He glared disdainfully back at me.

Shaking my head, I unlocked the door and made it exactly two steps into the hallway before running into Rose.

"Dimitri," she breathed, as though surprised I was in the house.

In spite of my shower indiscretions, my penis twitched at the sound of my name on her lips. I covered my arousal by raising an eyebrow. "Rose," I replied smoothly.

She shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at me. I watched her, baffled. Did she feel awkward after our moment in Alina's studio? It wasn't like Rose to avoid topics – well, not when it was about us.

"Are you alright?" I asked after a moment. She hadn't made a move to get past me, and she hadn't tried to speak. There was obviously something on her mind.

She bit her lip, and my cock responded again. I frowned, hoping desperately that she wouldn't notice. I needn't fear, because she was too busy studying the wall beside us.

"Um…" she muttered distractedly, glancing quickly at me, then back at the wall. "I wanted to talk to you about… well, today."

I crossed my arms, irrationally worried that she somehow knew what I'd just done.

"I just wanted… I wanted to say… oh for God's sake, would you please put on a shirt?" she snapped, a blush colouring her cheeks.

Stunned, my arms dropped back to my sides. "I'm sorry. I don't have one."

Exasperated, Rose snatched the towel from my shoulder and held it in front of me, effectively shielding my upper body from her view.

Amused, I grinned over the towel. "What's the matter Rose?" I teased lightly. "Have I gotten you all hot and bothered?"

"You're hot and bothered," she retorted.

Against my better judgement, I shrugged and gave her a wink, leaning casually against the wall. She had no idea how right she was. There was a part of me, after my recollections, that wanted to tease her.

Rose scrutinized me, her expression growing serious.

"There's no point in pretending that it didn't happen," she said evenly.

"What happened?"

"You know what happened," she muttered. She had her eyes trained on my own, a determined set to her mouth that I knew well. Still wired from my shower, I took that as a challenge.

I schooled my expression into something more appropriately serious. "I know what was happening in my head, Rose. I don't know what was happening in yours. There's no guarantee we experienced the same thing."

"You were going to kiss me," she hissed accusingly, bunching the towel into a ball and throwing it at my chest. She took a threatening step forward, which I might have been intimidated by, if it wasn't sexy as hell.

I pushed off the wall, meeting her fury with blunt honesty. "Yes."

"Oh… I… um." She paused, derailed.

I smiled at having rendered her speechless. "Did you expect me to say something else?"

"Well, after you said we might have been thinking different things…" she trailed off, swallowing hard. It was rare that Rose became so flustered, and a part of me found it incredibly hot. She glanced down at the towel on the floor.

"You wanted me to kiss you?" I questioned.

Rose floundered. "No, I didn't. I've just been here for three weeks and I haven't had sex."

She was already so close to me, I could smell her perfume lingering around us. "So you wanted to have sex with me?" I asked slyly. The hallways in this house were so tiny that the small space between us was heating up.

"I know you're playing with me," she growled, taking a step back. "You know what it was. It's you and I remembering things that are over. We're both with other people – and currently, I'm not getting any, so yeah, maybe I wanted to…"

"Wanted to…?" I pushed. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us again, cornering her against the wall.

She held my gaze, and lifted her chin. Her eyes were lit with passion, and I knew angry words were weighing on her tongue.

"What did you want, Roza?" I whispered, resting my hands on the wall either side of her head, caging her in my arms. Her angry glare faltered, her eyes flitting over my chest. My brain was screaming that this was a terrible idea – I'd gone too far – but my heart pounded with excitement, thrilling at the lust I could see playing over her features. Fuck she was gorgeous.

She was looking at me with surprise and desire burning in those beautiful brown eyes, and she wasn't pushing me away. She hadn't said no. She wanted me. All I had to do was ask. "What are you doing?" she asked breathily.

I hesitated, the erotic invitation wavering on my lips. She was right. What was I doing? Had I gotten so caught up in my memories that I'd forgotten what had happened between us? Had I forgotten what I'd done to her?

I pulled away, shame overriding any of my lustful intentions. "Proving a point," I lied calmly. She couldn't know any of this.

My withdrawal had been abrupt, and obviously unexpected. She seemed shocked and embarrassed, but rallied her anger quickly. Her eyes were hard as she hissed her next words across the cold distance between us. "I wanted to kiss you, because I'm trapped here with you while my boyfriend is halfway across the world. I'm trapped here with you, and while I'm trapped here, I'm not having sex with Adrian. So don't flatter yourself, Dimitri, I only wanted to kiss you because miss fucking him."

I stiffened, stunned by how her words stung like welts in my skin. If she'd hit me it would have been kinder. She glared at me unremorsefully, something dark stirring deep in her eyes. I slipped on my guardian mask, not letting her see the turmoil she'd unleashed in my heart.

"Fine." I managed coldly. "Let's forget about it. Nothing happened."

"Fine."

I pushed past her, storming off down the hall without bothering to retrieve my towel. I heard the bathroom door slam behind me, and for the first time in a week, I made my way to the liquor cabinet.