The faint strains of one of my favourite bands float down to me from the window, as my feet touch the ground. I turned the music on to mask the sound of my escape, should anyone even be listening. Feeling distinctly ninja-like, I cross the lawn and scale the wall, like I've done a hundred times before.
Simple. Easy. And yet, I'm half expecting to hear a reprimand come from the shadows, letting me know that Dimitri followed me to foil my plans. But none comes.
It's 10:45 as I cross the quiet grounds, and I have 15 minutes to make my way to Jesse's dorm. I know from experience to avoid the edges of campus, where the guardians patrol. So as long as I stick to the relatively shadier patches as much as possible, I don't really expect to run into any trouble. The shade also provides relief from the sun, which has begun its climb into the sky. Though it's early in the human day, the warmth of the rays makes my sensitive skin flush.
I debate whether or not to take my jacket off; weighing the extra breeze against the extra sun-exposure in my head. But before I can make my decision, I see the Moroi Dormitory up ahead, and veer around the side to get to the woods.
I hear them talking before I see them, a few voices raised in the thrill of rule-breaking. As I break through the final line of trees into the clearing, an exhilarated grin spreads across my own face in response to my successful escape. This is true freedom. For the first time in days, I'm actually doing something fun, outside the irritatingly watchful eye of my overly-attractive guardian.
And speaking of overly-attractive…
Jesse gives a wicked smile as he spots me. "Look who finally showed up!"
I shrug, and toss my hair. "I guess you guys can finally start the party then."
Behind him, a couple of other Royals sit around a makeshift table set up on a rock. I spot Camille Conta's impeccably straightened hair, and some of her other cronies, as well as Jesse's obnoxious friend, Ralph.
"Come on," Jesse says, extending a hand towards me. "We've already started. You have to play catch-up."
His fingers are pleasantly warm, but the shot of tequila that I'm handed is warmer still, as it slides down my throat. A cheer erupts from the others, and I join their table, noticing for the first time that there are cards laid out on the uneven surface.
"So, what are we doing?"
"Strip poker," Ralph leers, the challenge clear in his eyes. "You in?"
I take my time answering, shooting Jesse a flirty look. "I'll play if you do?"
He agrees, and the game begins. I'm no slouch at poker, but obviously staying clothed isn't the objective here. I make sure to place some reckless bets, and as a result, I lose my jacket and shoes pretty quickly, soon followed by my shirt. Jesse and Camille have also relinquished their tops and sneakers, and Ralph is playing so badly that he's already down to his boxers—a sight that makes me wish I could pour bleach over my brain. I settle for another shot of tequila instead.
I'm dealt a full house in the next round, and triumph over Jesse's double aces, costing him his jeans. I allow myself to ogle his lithe form; pale, slight and muscular. He sees my glance and raises me one of his own, his eyes raking over my torso, which is bare apart from a black lace bra.
Rapidly losing interest in the game, I bet my jeans and lose them courteously, taking the opportunity to put on a bit of a show as I remove them. Jesse eats it up, and as the next hand is being dealt, he leans forward to whisper in my ear.
"What do you say we take this somewhere else, just you and me?"
His breath tickles enticingly on my bare skin.
"Sure," I murmur to him, and then address the group. "Oh, shit! You guys, I dropped a contact lens in the woods! Jesse, do you want to help me look for it?"
There are a few jeers and wolf-whistles as Jesse rises and takes my hand. But pretty soon we leave the noise behind us, as we make our way deeper into the trees.
"So," he says, conversationally. "You wear contacts?"
I laugh. "Oh, yeah, totally. And now I can't see very well, so you're just going to have to get real close."
"That can be arranged."
His hands find my hips, and he pulls me to him. "Close enough?"
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, reveling in the smooth feeling of his skin on mine, and lean forward. Our lips almost touch.
"Not yet," I breathe.
And then his lips are on mine and his tongue is in my mouth. He kisses me enthusiastically, and a little sloppily, but at the moment I really don't care.
I lose myself in sensation. Jesse is flush against me, warming my blood, and the fallen leaves are cold and fresh beneath my feet. He steps forward, pressing me up against the rough bark of a nearby tree, and his hands skim all over my body.
And then suddenly he's gone.
Confused, I open my eyes to find Dimitri holding Jesse roughly by the shoulder, looking mutinous. And oh man, in full Russian god mode, Dimitri is even more attractive than usual.
"What's your name?" he barks, shaking Jesse to elicit a response.
A shiver ripples through Jesse's frame, and honestly, I can't say I blame him much. Next to Dimitri, he looks tiny and helpless, and by the pathetic tone of his voice, he seems to think so too.
"Jesse…Jesse Zeklos, Sir!"
"And do you have permission to be in this area of the grounds after curfew?"
"No, sir!"
"Then," Dimitri growls, "I suggest you get back to your dormitory and out of my sight. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will come back for you, do you understand me?"
At the mention of 'this' Dimitri acknowledges my presence for the first time, gesturing to where I stand, cowering against the tree. But Jesse barely glances at me, and visibly gulps.
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Then get out of here!"
Dimitri abruptly lets him go, and gives him a push in the right direction. Eager to escape the really ripped, really angry Russian dude, Jesse skids on the leaves in his haste to get away, and is gone from view in approximately three seconds.
"And you," he begins, turning to face me while I await his tirade.
But it doesn't come. As soon as Dimitri looks at me, his expression changes to one of surprise. At first, I don't understand, but then I can hardly fail to notice as his eyes trail over my figure, lingering in certain areas. And the strangest part is, he's not checking for damage or assessing the situation or doing some other guardian calculation thing.
I'm standing here in my underwear, and Dimitri is checking me out.
I have to admit, I know I look good. The plus side of my ridiculously short stature is that I have more curves than your average Moroi girl, and they're definitely on display right now. Pair that with my exotic, desert princess features, and I'm the subject of countless fantasies for guys my age. Maybe a few girls, too. But Dimitri is something else.
With his age, different culture, and mysterious nature, I'd never actually thought that I would appeal to him. We're in different spheres, after all. He's my guardian, and his sense of duty must surely prevent him seeing me? It appears I was wrong.
Feeling his eyes on me, a flush spreads across my pale skin, and my breathing becomes heavy. Seriously, all he's doing is looking at me, and I think I'm more turned on than I have been in my life. The heaving of my chest is starting to become a problem, and I know we've both been staring for too long. I lift my chin slightly, and raise my eyebrow in an attempt to cover my vulnerability.
"Enjoying the view?"
My words break the spell, and he shakes off the mood. His face coalesces into anger once more.
"Get dressed," he orders, turning away from me.
"I can't. The rest of my clothes are back in the clearing."
Still averting his eyes, he mutters something in Russian and removes his jacket. "Here."
He almost throws it at me, but I oblige, and slide my arms into the sleeves. It's still warm from his body. His scent fills my nose in a way that is far too personal, considering the way he's just been looking at me. It's almost like an embrace, the feeling only intensified by the fact that it's way too big for me. I don't, however, get much time to enjoy it.
"Let's go," he says, brusquely, breaking my reverie.
"What?"
"I'm taking you back to the house."
Though his tone is commanding, I notice that he doesn't touch me. He could definitely speed up the process by treating me like Jesse, and I wonder if he's maybe not as unaffected by what passed as he's pretending to be.
"I don't have shoes either."
He swears under his breath.
I frown. "What does 'suka' mean?"
He narrows his eyes. "Never mind. Let's go."
I obey, and we set off, but our progress is slow because I'm barefoot. And when we finally exit the cover of the trees, another problem makes itself known.
The sun is now approaching its peak, and even with the protection of Dimitri's duster, after about five minutes my mouth is dry and I'm coated in sweat.
Fury lengthens his strides, setting a pace almost impossible for me to keep up with. My weakness irritates me, so I make no complaint, and we half run along in tense silence. Well, apart from the occasional stream of Russian profanity. I'm in agony between the sun and the exercise, but my innate sense of stubbornness won't allow me to ask him to slow down. It's a miracle when we finally make it back to the house, and even more miraculous that he goes to the trouble of sneaking me back inside, undetected.
Gratefully, I sink down onto my bed. But apparently, we're not done.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asks, incredulous.
Angrily, I open my mouth, but he interrupts.
"I know the answer to that: you weren't thinking. So, what, you just got bored? Or were you trying to show everyone how little you care?" His tone is acidic, and I try to ignore the part of me that quails at his displeasure.
"Easy for you to say," I shoot back. "You didn't have to follow me."
"Yes, I did," he replies. "Because I knew that you were going to do something stupid. Getting into that kind of situation is just plain self-destructive, Rose."
"You know, I'm getting really sick of hearing that accusation. I was just having fun."
"And I'm getting really sick of hearing that excuse. You just keep playing the victim, Rose, but your act is tired."
"Playing the victim?" My anger burns worse than my thirst, making my words sharper than I ever imagined they could be. Especially to him. "You think I chose any of this? You think I want to be the Dragomir Princess?"
"Of course not. You make that perfectly clear, I assure a you. But here's a newsflash: nobody gets to choose their situation. You think I want to perpetually spend my time following a bratty teenage girl?"
Oddly enough, I'm fine with that assessment of me. Isn't that the image I strive for? A bratty teenage girl, I can be. The Dragomir Princess is another story.
"All that tells me is that we're both victims of a broken system. I might as well show everyone that I refuse to play my part."
His nostrils flare. "You don't even get what you're throwing away! If you don't like the system, then change it! How can you, of all people, not understand how lucky you are?"
"Then put on a wig, and you try to be me!" And, to my immense embarrassment, there are tears pooling in my eyes. I'm angry, I'm tired, my emotions are a wreck, and honestly? I'm done pretending.
"You try living, knowing that whatever you do will never be good enough! You try knowing that whatever you achieve will only be meeting the expectation that goes along with your existence! Performing your duty, giving up everything, and all to perpetuate this unbalanced society! I'm sure you'd do it much better than would...I'm sure anyone would do better."
This last sentence comes out in a whisper, and I address it to the floor. Bratty teenage girl indeed. I'm just not brave enough to look at him, to look up and see his expression while he figures out what to say.
Finally, he speaks, but I keep my eyes trained downward. "If you don't believe you're the right girl for the job, then I'm afraid that's just too bad."
Involuntarily, my eyes flick up to his face when I register his tone. Soft, almost tender, though I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it. The movement dislodges a tear, and I feel it roll down my cheek.
"You are a Moroi that not only sees the inequality, but actually cares that it's there," he continues. "Do you know how unusual that is? And even more unlikely, if you just accept it, you have the power to change things, Rose! If you don't try, nobody will."
I sit in complete silence, for what must be the first time in my life, and turn this over in my mind. Maybe it's the situation, maybe it's my crush on him, or maybe it's something in the way they were delivered, as if to a friend. But slowly, his words filter through my hurt and denial, and they begin to make sense. The revelation must show on my face, and I'm sure that it must look pretty funny, but he keeps quiet, as usual. I don't think I've ever fully appreciated that quality of his before.
I can make a difference. I can use my position to make things better for April and the feeders. For Dimitri and the guardians. For myself, and for all Moroi, royal and non-royal alike. But, I am just one person.
"It's going to be hard."
He nods solemnly, as if it wasn't a painfully obvious statement.
"Where can I even start? There's so much…"
And he laughs. A proper, genuine laugh, from the man who hardly even smiles. Immediately, I wonder why he doesn't do it more often. It lights up his face, flashing his perfect teeth and making his eyes glitter.
"Why don't you start with your detention on Saturday?" he suggests, mirth still etched beautifully into the corners of his eyes.
"You're sad!" I burst out suddenly. Now that I've seen him laugh, the contrast to his normal expression couldn't be clearer.
His face resumes its normal expression, but it's too late.
"What do you mean?"
"Something happened, before you came here. It still makes you sad. What is it?"
There's a flash of something in his eyes. Wonder? Fear? "My previous charge, Ivan Zeklos, passed away."
"And you blame yourself." It's not a question. His tone made that perfectly clear. "Did it happen on your watch?"
Again, he looks surprised. "No. I was visiting my family in Russia. But I can't help wondering what would have happened, if I'd been there."
"Jesse's a Zeklos," I remember suddenly. "Did that bother you?"
He packs his emotions away once more, and shrugs. "It doesn't matter how I feel. They come first."
That guardian motto, spoken with such conviction, fills me with disgust. I won't be Ivan Zeklos. I know a thing or two about the weight of responsibility, and I refuse to make my protection weigh so heavily on Dimitri. He's right, I do have the power to change things. I have the power to learn how to protect myself. And I have powers that Dimitri, badass Russian god that he is, doesn't have.
"Will you train me?"
He doesn't laugh it off, which I take as a good sign. His brow furrows as he thinks it through, and then he barks out a question. "Why?"
"Well," I reply. "Lissa's right, I need an outlet. And I might as well make it something constructive. If I'm going to make a difference, maybe leading by example isn't such a bad way to begin.
Author's Note
Thank you so much for reading. Any form of feedback is very much welcome, good or bad. So please feel free to leave a review to let me know what you thought. I'm also not very good at posting regularly, so if you'd like to keep updated, please follow and/or favourite. This fic is also currently unBeta'd, so if you encounter any mistakes, I apologise.
So I am genuinely terrible at posting. I am aware of this, and I am sorry. Life has a tendency to get in the way, and I find myself with far less time than I used to have, with all the recent changes. It's been a long time since I first read these books, and I ten to experience less enthusiasm than initially. However, I have no intention of giving up, and I promise that I will post when I can. Thank you so much for your patience and support.
The VA universe and the characters therein are the intellectual property of Richelle Mead.