As promised, I hurt worse the next day, but Dimitri still makes me get up and train. The days begin to go by, and I keep thinking it will get easier. In some ways it does, but mostly I'm just proven wrong again. I slowly learn to celebrate small victories, like the Friday that I make it to the door before he can knock three times.

The only thing that makes it worth my while is the tentative friendship that starts to build between me and my guardian. And the more time I spend with him, the more I realise that I genuinely enjoy his company, and not just because of my crush. He's a genuinely cool guy who clearly knows what he's doing.

And that's what gets me through. In those moments after I've run until I can taste blood (not in a good way), and my heart is crying for the sweet release of death, or when the only way I can tell that my limbs are still attached is by how much it feels like my muscles have been laid bare to the elements. Sometimes I want to cry, fall asleep, and never wake up. I would have given up ages ago, if it wasn't for those moments after practice with Dimitri.

In those brief ten minutes, he lets his walls down a little, and we talk and laugh and joke. I get to know him better slowly; how he loves western novels and that's how he practiced reading English, how he finds American food a little weird, and his favourite songs were all written before I was born.

"No, seriously, Prince?" I wrinkle my nose to let him know what I think of his taste in music, although my incredulous tone probably gave him enough of a clue.

He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling anyway. "And what should I be listening to? Taylor Swift?"

I ignore the jibe. "Remind me to play you some good music sometime."

"What, I suppose you're volunteering to educate me?"

Our eyes meet, and the witty response I was about to give dies on my lips. Did he hear the double meaning in what he said? Or am I just going crazy?

I swallow the words I want to say; the flirty response that would get me nowhere. But I swear I just started salivating.

Why does he have to be so stunningly attractive?

Glossing over the moment, I head over to the weights. I'm more familiar than I ever thought I would be with the feeling of the cold metal bar in my hands. It reminds me of a wizard staff, and I imagine swinging it around like a ninja.

After a few minutes of silence, enough that we can both pretend that nothing happened, I voice the thought that's been building since we started practice.

"Hey Comrade, when are you going to teach me how to fight?"

He gives me a wry look over the pages of his novel. "You need strength and stamina to fight."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I get that, but I'm a Moroi. It's going to take ages."

His eyebrow quirks a little in the way I've learned he shows his surprise. "You think Moroi can't fight?"

"Well I know I'll never be able to match a dhampir. We've chosen to be weak." I shrug, like I'm not aware that what I've said is basically treason.

His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes me imagine closing the distance between us.

"You're wrong," he says quietly. My heart expands at those words, that tone. "You're different, but you're not weak. I've seen your strength."

I may as well be pinned to the wall. There it is again. The way he observes, the things he sees that nobody else does. And behind it all is something else, something that's always been terrifying to me.

He believes in me.

I've had it drummed into me over and over; I can never live up to expectations. But with him…I don't quite know whether I want to kiss him or run. Maybe both.

He gets up and moves towards me, and my first crazy thought is that I'll finally get my wish.

"Let's go through the basics then," he says, thoroughly back to his business-like demeanour. "You need to know how to stand. If you make yourself as solid as you can, you'll absorb more of the impact of the hits you take, and the ones you throw."

I nod and widen my stance, willing myself to become an awesome Rose carving out of solid marble. Michelangelo, eat your heart out.

In a flash of movement that I barely see, he reaches out and lightly pushes my shoulder.

"Hey!"

My marble Rose vision crumbles like someone took a sledgehammer to it. I begin to topple over, but before I can fall too far he reaches out and grabs my arm. He exerts so little effort to pull me upright again that I feel I should be offended, but I'm just dazzled.

The awe I feel at his godlike reflexes evaporates, however, at the sight of the laughter shining in his eyes.

"Okay, fine," I huff. "Tell me what to do."

He gives me a small smile at the look on my face, and then fires out a list of instructions.

"Your feet need to be further apart. Think of a triangle."

I oblige, and tuck my elbows closer to my sides as he directs too. I feel a pretty foolish, like I'm going to break out into the chicken dance or something.

"Good. Now bend your knees and brace your core."

"Huh?"

Another smile at my eloquence, and then he comes to stand by my side.

"Here." He lightly places his hands on my shoulders and my heart stutters.

But then he reaches down to my abdomen and I'm fairly sure it stops beating altogether. I can feel the heat of his palm on my stomach through my shirt, and I feel my cheeks echo the warmth.

I swallow embarrassingly loudly.

His mouth is right by my neck, and I can feel my hair move with his breath.

"Keep these muscles tense."

I try to obey, despite the fact that my body feels like jelly. Tighten my abs. Okay. I can do that. If I can just focus.

"Not too much, you're not trying to stop a bullet or anything."

Too soon, he steps away again.

I scramble to reassemble my mental faculties.

"Ready to try again?"

My eyes go wide. No I am not. But I try to keep the list in my head, and manage to emulate a rock once more before his hand darts out again. I feel the warm pressure on my other shoulder this time, and I focus on my core.

I kind of expected to stumble again, but my shoulder snaps back to its original position and I feel my quads tense as I absorb the impact. And I remain standing.

"I did it!" I crow, so caught up in the moment that I don't think before I fling my arms around him.

"You did it," he chuckles in my ear, and hugs me back.

I feel like I'm going to spontaneously combust. His scent and the feeling of his skin are a heady mix, enhancing my euphoria. I want to stay in the circle of his arms for eternity. But after a moment he pulls back and turns to gather his things.

"You should get some breakfast, or you won't have time to eat before class."

His guard is back up, and I try not to feel too disappointed.

"Yes sir."

He rolls his eyes. "And you have to visit the feeders today. You haven't had blood in three days."

I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder, turning away from him. "I'll go tomorrow."

He grabs my wrist, spinning me around. His face is stern. "Training uses up more of your energy. You need more blood."

Is he worried about me? Or is this just professional curiosity? I search his face, but that mask of his is firmly back in place.

I give up. "Fine."

As I walk out the gym, he follows silently. There's no conversation, no banter. It's like nothing happened. And maybe it didn't.

Christian Ozera is at our table again, stonily resisting Lissa's polite effort at conversation and presenting a nice distraction from the downward direction of my thoughts. She looks relieved when I sit down next to her. I'm relieved too when Dimitri leaves me to it.

I greet them and open my yoghurt, pouring it over my muesli.

She smiles. "Hey. How was training?"

Christian's eyes flicker briefly to my face in shock. "Training?" he asks.

I stir my breakfast vigorously, using it as an excuse to keep my eyes away. I'm trying not to let those thoughts of Dimitri's hands show on my face.

"It was okay," I reply, ignoring Christian's amusement. "I learned how to stand." Not to mention how to avoid temptation.

Christian snorts a laugh, which I knew was coming. Lissa, meanwhile, just looks politely confused. Not that I can blame her.

"I wouldn't really be able to defend myself if I kept getting knocked down, now, would I?" I respond to her unanswered question.

"Oh yeah," she replies thoughtfully. "That makes sense."

I take the following silence as an opportunity to dig into my muesli. I'm a few mouthfuls of crunchy blueberry goodness down before Christian decides to open his mouth.

"Okay," he begins, "so there's someone I think you should meet."

Well, that came out of nowhere. Lissa looks as surprised as I am.

"Let me guess," I smirk. "You're going to set me up with a friend who has a great personality?"

He rolls his eyes. "No. My aunt is coming to visit and I think you'd be…interested in talking to her."

Okay, now I'm completely thrown. "What?"

"Just…" he shoots a glance at Lissa, and then at the rest of the cafeteria filled with students. "I'll let you know the details, okay?"

I have to admit, my interest is piqued.

"I have detention tomorrow. But sure."

He nods. "I'll see you around then."

And with a parting smirk in Lissa's direction, he leaves the table.

"That was weird," she notes, her eyes following his retreating figure.

"Definitely. Do you know who his aunt is?"

She shakes her head. "The Ozeras are a big family. He must have like 20 aunts."

I mull it over. "Yeah but. You know. Not all of them would be on speaking terms."

Christian's parents had turned strigoi, of their own accord, when he was a child. Most of his 'family' actively avoids him.

"I guess you'll find out eventually," she says.

"I guess."

Dimitri materializes at our table, indicating that it's time for class. My eyes sweep his godlike, duster-clad frame once more, and I swoon internally. I can't help but think of that intense look in his eyes this morning. I'd been so sure he was thinking the same thing as I was.

But he's purely professional. As I walk to class, his demeanour is exactly as it should be, and he gives no indication that anything out of the ordinary happened this morning.

I know that I'm delusional. He's doing his job, and I'm behaving like some lovesick fawn. I can't keep breaking my heart every time I realise once more that there will never be anything between us. He clearly doesn't see me that way, and now I'm turning into someone who imagines flirtation in regular friendly interactions.

Absently, I send my fire to heat my fingertips, keeping my skin on the edge of pain. It's just enough to remind myself of who I am. At the end of the day, he's my guardian and I'm his charge.

I wish I'd been born as someone else; someone fantastically ordinary who could think about the career they wanted, who could plan their own life. But I know it's not going to get me anywhere. Action is what counts here. I need to decide to escape this starry-eyed headspace. I need to actively avoid thinking about him in a romantic way.

But that is going to be so very difficult. I sigh. How can someone I basically just met already seem to matter so much?

My melancholy follows me throughout the rest of day. I just want to go home and escape him for a few hours. This would be so much easier if he wasn't constantly in my space, walking me to class, staying by my side. Maybe I'll make a new playlist tonight, or watch a movie. I try to think about that instead of him.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

I want to snap that I'm trying to. I'd love to forget all about my stupid crush. But I know it's not his fault, I'm being petty and immature. And he's just trying to do his job.

"What am I forgetting?" I ask quietly.

He regards me reproachfully with those deep brown eyes. "You said you'd see the feeders today."

I just want to go home. I just want to get away. But I know he won't let it go, so I don't put up a fight.

"Okay."

I turn around, heading back the way we came, and he follows like a ghost. I can feel a kind of tension radiating from him, probably disapproval, or the same impatience I have to just get this over with.

I'm waved through to a cubicle, and sit down before I vaguely April's smiling face before me again. I pull on a smile for her sake.

"Hey April."

She's pretty spaced out already, probably over her quota again. Her eyes are glazed, but she greets me happily enough.

Well, the sooner I get on with it, the sooner I'll get out of here.

A small gasp escapes her as I bite through the scar tissue on her neck. I swallow, but revulsion starts to set in. Her blood is hot and thick, and exactly what I need.

But my mood seems to overflow in my head, poisoning my thoughts. I think of the endorphins in my venom, of how they make her want me to take more and more from her. I think of her vulnerability here. And I suddenly want nothing to do with it.

I pull back, and it's all I can do to keep the scant amount of blood I consumed from coming right back up.

"That wasn't nearly enough, Rose," she says. "You need more."

I can hear her words slurring together, and the undercurrent of desire in them. I see the glazed happy look on her face, a little stronger than when we came in. Because of me.

I stand up. "I'm done."

"Rose," Dimitri admonishes. "You barely took any."

Levelly, I meet his eyes, trying not to flinch.

"I'm done," I repeat.

I grab my bag and start walking home.

Author's Note

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, or if you didn't, please share your thoughts by leaving a review. It's always fantastic to hear from you. Also, if you'd like to follow and favourite, please feel free! I post a lot less often nowadays, and it's a good way to keep in the loop.

I know there was a long wait, and I'm sorry. I recently started rereading the VA series and it inspired me to write again. Man, you've got to love that good old Romitri sexual tension, huh? It feels good to still be enjoying it so many years after the first time I read the series. Sorry for any mistakes, this fic is unBeta'd.

The VA universe is the creation of Richelle Mead, I just get to play around in it.