Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from this story and all creative rights to the characters belong to Richelle Mead.
The original content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Ms. Belikov. Please do not copy, reproduce, or translate without express written permission.
Previously on Saving Me...
Later that night, I decided to take a shower in an attempt to get my mind off of Dimitri. It didn't work. As I tugged the tie out of my pony tail and let my deep, rich brown hair fall down my shoulders and back, I imagined Dimitri running his long graceful fingers through the soft tresses, admiring and appreciating them with eyes that spoke a thousand words. As I slipped my white sweater over my head, I imagined the fabric sliding over my skin to be Dimitri's rough, warm palms caressing my body and all its curves. As I unhooked my bra and slid the straps down my arms, I remembered that one time Dimitri and I had got hot and heavy, when he'd cupped my breasts in his hands and given a gentle, yet demanding squeeze.
Goosebumps bloomed over my skin and a twinge of guilt twisted in my chest for fantasizing over the bodyguard, but I was too far gone to stop now.
Slowly, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down my thighs—
Something fell out of my back pocket, catching my attention. I leaned down, picked up the piece of paper, and opened it.
"That bastard." I muttered with a bemused smile. It was the check. Dimitri must have slid it into my pocket when I'd hugged him.
I sighed in frustration. Why hadn't he just taken it? Not only did I feel guilty for giving him the boot like I'd had, but now I felt terrible about not paying him for all that he'd done. I thought of a way to send the money to him, but there was no way I could find an address. All I knew was that he was on a plane heading for Russia, and that he was going to be guarding the Ambassador because someone wanted him assassinated.
After another long sigh, I ripped the remaining clothes off my body, turned on the shower, and hopped in before the water had time to heat up. The ice-cold water was extremely unpleasant, but it helped to get Dimitri off my mind for a couple of moments.
Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the steaming shower, feeling like a new woman. I was doing everything in my power to keep my mind off Dimitri, and in order to be successful, I needed to keep myself as busy as possible. I had plans with Lissa tonight. A beauty night, my best friend had sad. Filled with strange green facial masks, nail polish, and waxing strips. Yikes. Though I had to admit, a tiny part of me was really excited.
Wrapping the towel around my dripping body, I headed for the sink and readied my toothbrush. As I began to scrub my mouth away, I lifted my head and swiped the steam away from the mirror to see my foggy reflection.
I gasped, feeling my heart jump into my throat. Then swiveled my head around to look behind me. Absolutely no one was there. But when I looked back at the mirror, my pulse and hands fluttered like the wings of a butterfly.
A beautiful woman stared back at me. She had smoldering, ice-blue eyes and long, raven black hair that cascaded down her back in glossy waves. A string in my heart pulled when I discovered blood covered her hands and face and abdomen.
"Oh, my God..." I slapped a palm over my mouth in astonishment.
The woman was wearing a camouflage uniform. An army uniform.
Something clicked in my head.
It was Tasha. Dimitri's dead friend.
Great, now I was seeing ghosts.
RPOV:
I stood there doing nothing for a few moments, nailed to the spot with paralyzing fear.
"Rose…"
Holy shit. It said my name. She said my name.
I tried to say something, but nothing came out of my lips. My voice was stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing it out of me. "You're Tasha." I said. "You are Tasha…right?"
The reflection in the mirror merely stared at me, ice-blue eyes penetrating my soul and discovering my deepest and darkest secrets. She didn't say anything, but I don't believe it was her choice, more like she wanted to talk so bad but didn't have a voice box.
Do you have voice boxes in the afterlife? I wondered.
I got lost staring into those intense blue eyes. Blue eyes that had no doubt broken dozens of hearts and captured even more. Just like they'd done with Dimitri. Even though she was dead and gone, he still loved her dearly. It was written all over his face and the way he spoke wistfully about her.
Jealousy struck me in the heart, a piercing, deep cut.
Really, Rose? I was envious of a ghost. I was so going to hell.
"Why are you here?" I tried again. Maybe she needed a little motivation. Who knew what sacrifices she'd had to make for this visit. "What do you want? Dimitri is gone. Go bother him. There is nothing I can provide for you."
The ghost—I swear—smiled and sneered at the same time. "You have more attitude than a girl with the keys to her daddy's new Porsche."
I gaped, half in anger and half in amazement. "You can talk!" I pointed an accusing finger at the mirror. "I knew it! I knew it!"
Tasha rolled her eyes, and then just as mysteriously as she'd come, she was gone without a trace.
I looked around dumbly, uselessly, before leaning forward, and like a complete idiot, knocking on the mirror as if it were a door. "Hello? Yoo-hoo, Ghost Girl. Where'd you go?"
"Who are you talking to, Little Lady?" I jumped at the sound of a deep, velvety voice.
"Crap, Adrian! You scared the bejesus out of me!" I whirled around, faced him, and blushed furiously when I realized I was buck naked in front of the bodyguard.
"I could make a make a meal out of you," Adrian growled, licking his full lips in appreciation. It was clear he didn't mind my current birthday suit status half as much as I did. Actually, I don't think he minded at all.
Move, you dumb bitch, I ordered myself. Don't just stand there looking stupid.
Except my feet were glued to the ground and my arm wouldn't lift its lazy ass and slam the door in his face like I'd planned to. It was as if I was in some kind of trance, a lust spell. I allowed his predatory emerald gaze to travel over each and every inch of my bare, dripping wet flesh, and reveled in the feeling, the sheer power and carnality of it.
And then I slammed the door in his face.
"Hey! I was enjoying the show…" Adrian called out, his voice muffled by the piece of wood that separated us.
I hid my smile by leaning over and picking up my fresh pair of underwear, even though I knew he couldn't see it. The gesture was private. I didn't want anyone to know how I felt. Not even my own self.
"Why are you here? I fired you!"
"I could live for this," he murmured, more to himself than me. "My mother and father always complain that I have no life goals, no plans to make my future bigger and better. But I think I have found my purpose. They're going to be so proud of their son."
"And what would that all-powerful, life changing purpose be?" I asked, pulling on a pair of fleece white shorts, then the new purple lacy bra Lissa had bought me from Victoria's Secret. Something has to hold those double D's back, she'd said.
"Seeing you buck naked," When I laughed and snorted loudly, he added with a smile to his voice, "That's right. Seeing you buck naked. That's something I will live for, something I can look forward to—aside from everything else in my life-"
"Like nursing a bottle of vodka to sleep every night?"
"Oh, shoot. I forgot about that. How could I betray my honey like that?" There was a pause, and I imagined he had a finger to his chin in thought. "Okay, my honey comes first. Always. And then second, seeing your buck naked."
"I feel so special for coming in second to liquor," I said sarcastically, tugging a comfy red tank top over my head. "And what about your career as a bodyguard? Where does that come into play on your list of priorities and life goals?"
"It comes in last, of course. Where else would it go?" Adrian said with a whole lot of duh. "Anyways, let's get back to more important matters, shall we? If I am to live for seeing you buck naked, I'll probably need to show up at your home unexpectedly and uninvited more often, preferably when you're fresh out of the shower. Tell me, Little Lady, do you sleep in the nude? Oh, Lord. Please have mercy. If you give the smallest shit about me, please let her say yes."
"No. I don't." I said, flinging open the door.
"Damn you." Adrian muttered skyward.
Rolling my eyes, I shoved past him and went to dump my dirty clothes in the hamper beside the washer and dryer. My breath caught in my throat when I noticed what was laying on top of it, and like a complete Nancy, I wanted to start balling on the spot.
An old, battered western novel.
Dimitri's old, battered western novel. One of his favorite. When he was off duty and could actually sit down and relax for a moment, I'd always seen him reading from this specific copy. He'd accidentally left it.
The urge to run out of the apartment and down the street, calling his name, searching for his retreating black SUV, was instant, even though he'd left hours ago and was well on his way back to his native country. For some reason, my stupid brain just couldn't seem to process the fact that he was actually gone for good. I wasn't sure if it was my way of dealing—or denying—it, but it still felt like Dimitri was in my living room, watching my every move, guarding me, while I annoyed the hell out of him at every possible given moment with my crazy shenanigans. I had loved driving such a controlled, emotionless man up the wall. It was what I had lived for.
But then reality kicked it. And I had to deal with the heartbreaking fact that I'd never see him again.
I glanced back down at the novel, carefully picked it up, in fear of it crumbling and losing the last remnant I had of Dimitri. Clutching it to my chest, I thought about using it as an excuse to get to him. Maybe I could send it to him through a package. Surely he would want it back. Or maybe, I could track him down and give it to him myself.
I snorted aloud, shocked with my impossible thinking. Fly all the way to Russia just to give him his lousy western novel back? It was just a frickin' book for Christ sakes, and even if he wanted it back, he surely didn't want to see me again. And it wasn't as if I could track him down. He was going to be guarding the ambassador of Russia. It wasn't likely his name and address were listed in the phonebook. And hell, who the heck had a phonebook these days anyways?
I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to collect myself and put a lock on my emotions.
Dimitri Belikov was a marked man who'd crossed many in his time. People had put the green light out on him, a hefty price over his head, searched for him day and night, thirst for revenge in their hearts and hatred in their brains. Dimtri wasn't stupid. If a man like him wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth, he could do so, just like that. And that's exactly what he'd done in order to take on his new job.
He was gone, and never coming back. I needed to accept that and move on, or else I would never be able to live my life again. That's what Dimitri would want, for me to forget about him. And the least I could do was grant his wishes after everything he had done for me.
Eventually his memory would fade and I would forget about him, it only took time, and until that time came, I would keep myself busy.
That didn't necessarily mean I couldn't indulge here and there.
I parted the book where it had been dog-eared, and read from the last page Dimitri had.
It had been so long for him, and he needed this. Needed it like the air he breathed. He was so cold. And she was scalding hot. Warm enough to melt some of the ice in his soul, even for just a moment. His woman lay on the bed, spread out for him in the sweetest offering, her legs parted deliciously.
His. She was his and always would be. He'd fought it for so long, tried to deny his feelings, but they had been there all along, hadn't they.
Climbing onto the bed, he straddled her sleek legs and dropped a kiss to her busted lip before moving down her bare body with his mouth. An incredible sound escaped the back of her throat, and he lifted his eyes just to see her face. Her expression was fierce, eyes closed in pleasure, teeth bared. He growled deep in his chest when he remembered she had never been with another man before. The knowledge that she was clean, innocent, untouched by any others filthy, unworthy hands, nearly pushed him over the edge. But he held back, needing to make it last, needing to see her in her most exposed, vulnerable hour. She was his for the taking, and he had every intention of doing just that.
When she managed to peel open her eyes and meet his, she looked dazed, blissful. Her beauty had always stunned him, even hurt him at times. With that thick deep brown hair and those familiar, dark, exotic eyes, she was all he'd ever desired and needed.
"Make love to me," she commanded in a breathless, erotic voice. And he didn't need to be told twice.
With a fierce surge, he thrust into her, invading the most sensitive and sweetest part of her body. Then he was in heaven.
I slammed the book shut with a wild blush, feeling extremely guilty. Like I'd read Dimitri's diary or something. Pfffft. As if Dimitri would ever keep a journal.
I had the craziest thought as I took the battered western novel and headed back to my bedroom to place it in a private, safe spot. Reading those love scenes in his books was the only way Dimitri had barely been able to control himself and deal with his sexual frustration. Instead of losing himself and taking them out on me.
I smiled victoriously, knowing that I had won a small battle.
Dimitri had wanted me. Badly. So bad, in fact, that he'd had to fight to stay away from me. He desired me as intensely as I'd desired him. Had found me sexual and alluring. Beautiful, even. And as weird as it sounded, that made me feel better.
"Please…tell me why I'm doing this." Adrian said, massaging magic into my calves and feet.
"You have magical hands," I voiced.
"So I've been told," he said, then his voice dropped low until it oozed nothing but sex, "Would you like to find out the extent of their magical abilities?"
I laughed, eased back into the couch, and set the slice of cucumber that had fallen into my lap back onto my eye. I moaned in utter pleasure when Adrian hit a knot of muscles and massaged out the tightness.
"If I had a nickel for every time I've made a girl make that sound…"
"You'd be three-hundred dollars in debt, Mr. Ivashkov."
"On the contrary, I'd be a millionaire."
"I doubt that."
"Would you like me to prove you wrong, female?"
I gulped, feeling a spark of something ignite my veins on fire. "No." I whispered hoarsely, "I just want you to keep rubbing my feet."
"That reminds me," Adrian dipped my feet in the bowl of hot, soapy water and began to scrub them with some weird seaweed/sea salt rub we'd picked up at Walgreens. The label guaranteed incredibly soft skin. They'd better keep up their end of the bargain, or else I was getting a refund. "Why am I doing this?"
"Because Lissa was supposed to have a beauty night with me but stood me up to have sex with her boyfriend instead." I said. As if on cue, there was a loud bang as the headboard of their bed slammed against the wall for the billionth time and a very loud moan that came from Lissa. God, it was so disturbing hearing your best friend have sex not seven feet away from you. I mean, sure, there was a barrier separating us—thank God—but these walls were paper thin. They might as well have been in the same room.
"Okay. I got that part. But what's in it for me?"
"You get to touch my feet,"
"You're going to have to do better than that."
"Fine," I said in defeat. "You get to fondle my feet."
"Much better." Adrian said with satisfaction, eyes glittering like two emerald jewels.
Silence spilled around us, the comfortable type, making me even more relaxed than I was before. I thought about something for a moment, then decided to voice my question. "Why are you here?" I asked, eyes still closed. "I ain't paying you for this pedicure. Besides, I fired you and Dimitri."
Who knew one word, one name spoken aloud could cut like a knife, I thought, rubbing my aching chest.
"What's wrong, Little Lady?" he asked, genuine concern evident in his voice.
"Nothing," I evaded. "Stop trying to dodge the question."
Though I didn't see it, I knew for a fact that he shrugged. "I don't know, really." Most likely for the very first time in his life, Adrian Ivashkov was at loss for words. Wishes do come true.
"You're really cool," he said finally. "And yeah, I like hanging out with you. That's all."
"Don't lie, Ivashkov. You just want to get into my pants."
He laughed loudly, genuinely, incredibly. "I never said my intentions were particularly innocent. But I do mean what I say. I like being in your lovely company."
"I'm horrible company." I said. "Like, the worst."
"I'm rolling my eyes in dismissal. That's the end of that ridiculous argument."
"Pffft."
"Did you just pffft me?"
"That's right." I said, then just to annoy him, I added a long, drawn out, "Pffffffffffffffttttttt."
"Your maturity amazes me."
I shrugged. No big deal. "I have moments of brilliance. What can I say."
There was a cool stroke of a brush on my big toe, and a bitter smell in the air, and I knew he'd just started to paint my nails.
Twenty minutes later, Adrian tapped my knee. "Wakey. Wakey. Look, Little Lady, at the masterpiece I made of your toesy's."
I itched my nose. The minty-scented mask flaked off in a fall of green snow and landed on my shirt and lap. It was time to wash the burning funk off. Beauty could be so annoying. I sat up in a sleepy, half-coherent state, lifted my legs, and studied my toes. They were painted flawlessly, but were multi-colored. Red. Green. Purple. Yellow. Orange. Pink. Blue. Silver. White. Black. It was like the rainbow had vomited all over my feet.
I giggled, rolling my eyes. "Really, Adrian? I thought we agreed to gold."
The bodyguard shrugged. "Yeah, I started out with that. But then I got bored with just one color, and out of that boredom, something magnificent was born." he indicated to my toes. "Have you ever seen something so…well, magnificent?"
"I don't believe I have."
"You're welcome."
"I didn't say thank you."
"I know, Little Lady. You don't have to. It's in your eyes." he said, then just to bug me, added a cheerful, "You're welcome!"
"You look like shit," Christian said to me the next morning.
The sun had just risen and was glaring at me from its low hang in the morning sky. "You look…fantastic." I said, unable to insult him. Mornings took a lot out of my character and sarcasm, and replaced the void with bitchiness and meanness. Besides, he truly did look fantastic. Satisfied. Satiated. His pale skin glowed golden. His ice-blue eyes glittered, were brighter than ever. There was a permanent mischievous smirk on his face. And love covered his body. And by love, I mean Lissa's teeth marks, nail scratches, and serious hickeys.
I nearly doubled over. God, why did he have to show up at my door at six AM in nothing but his boxers and the heady scent of sex on his skin? He was totally rubbing my non-existent love life in my face.
"So I've been told," he said. "Hey…oh, shit. I forgot why I came over here."
"Stop thinking about Lissa lying naked in your bed and focus, Christian. Focus. I'm a ticking time bomb in the morning."
There was a stupid, dazed look on his face, and I knew he wasn't all there. He'd left his brain back there with his girlfriend, and couldn't seem to get a grip on reality. I guess I would have been the same with Dimitri—unable to concentrate on anything else besides the other part of your soul and the countless hours of lovemaking you'd done together.
I immediately scolded myself for thinking in such an absurd matter. But forgetting Dimitri was easier said than done. He'd left for a good reason. Well, I'd pushed him away for a good reason. I had no use for him. Mason, my captor, was dead and gone, unable to hurt me in the afterlife. And frankly, I was wasting Dimitri's time, and my fathers money. Dimitri had been paid to protect me, but now there was nothing to protect me from, so it was good that he was gone.
Or at least, that's what I told my brain to believe, forced it to obey my commands. Over and over again. Like a billion times.
It still wasn't working.
I fought a smile that threatened to play across my lips when Christian giggled blissfully, goofily. Then ran back into their apartment, spoke with Lissa, and ran back out two seconds later, laughing even harder.
"There's kind of a problem here, Rose." Christian's lips twitched involuntarily. "She can't quite remember either. But she thinks it has to do with something about being sorry for ditching you last night to be with me."
And with that being said, Christian disappeared inside their apartment, locked and chained the door, and no doubt returned to his awaiting—and very naked—girlfriend.
I snorted as I slammed the door shut, rolling my eyes. I had such great friends.
The light on my phone blinked. I pushed the play button and waited for my voicemails to sound over the speaker. I was grabbing a sprinkle doughnut out of its container when my fathers soft, cautious voice drifted into the dark kitchen.
"Listen, uh, Kiz. This is the fourth voicemail I've left you. Why won't you answer my calls? I know you're mad at me, but I'm still your father, and I would like to talk with you. Maybe you can come over for dinner tonight. Your mother's making your favorite chicken pot pie. I was thinkin' maybe the three of us could talk about what happened-"
I slammed my finger down on the button. That was so not something I was going to deal with right now. Family problems made me itch. Besides, I was too betrayed, too hurt, to even think about facing my father any time soon. I was still raging at him, and I wasn't about to talk to him. I don't think I would be able to keep from punching him in the face.
"Message deleted." The electronic, robotic voice uttered.
And I headed back to bed, where my nightmares awaited me, worse and more violent than they'd ever been before. Strange. Considering the man who kidnapped me was no longer a problem, they should have vanished, just like he had that night he'd fallen down the stairs and snapped his neck.
"Oh, great. You again." I said, when Tasha suddenly appeared out of thin air. "What do you want? Stop following me around like some kind of freak."
The ghost snorted and rolled her eyes. "We need to talk."
"I'm working." I said, clipping the order up for the chef to see.
"Doesn't matter," she reached out and grabbed my arm. It touched me! It could actually touch me! A shot of pure ice spread through my veins instantly at the contact, making me gasp. Every hair on my body stood up from the supernatural static crackling in the air. I breathed heavily, my breath fogging in the air.
"We need to talk," Tasha's grip tightened, nails biting into my forearm. "You, my dear, made a huge mistake…"