Adrian smiled to himself—operation win Rosemarie had been set into play. Ordering an assortment of fragrances, he had paid an astronomical sum to guarantee immediate delivery. The lovely Miss Hathaway should receive them sometime tomorrow. Thank God for online shopping. He smirked, wondering how Belikov could top such a thoughtful gesture.

Undressing, he flopped on the bed, contemplating everything he had witnessed over the course of the day. The Russian cared about Rose—that was obvious from his aura—but he wouldn't commit to her. The question was why the hell not? What could posses any man to turn away a woman as delightful as Rose?

There was an age difference, but why should that matter? She was almost eighteen, and the age of consent in Montana was sixteen. The fact that he was her teacher was easily dismissed as well—he could always have her reassigned to someone else, and she would be graduating soon, anyway. They were both supposed to guard Vasilisa, but again, Belikov could always ask for reassignment. Maybe he just didn't want to get involved with someone as wild and carefree as Rose. He chuckled to himself—she was like a wild rose, beautiful and strong, thriving in the most unlikely place imaginable, as a future female guardian. Women who looked like Rose weren't meant for a life of servitude. She deserved so much more than to spend the next sixty years risking her life on a daily basis or lingering in the shadows, watching for danger.

He decided the Russian's reasoning for abstaining from the girl didn't really matter. Belikov's loss would be Adrian's gain. He would appreciate her. He would never speak down to her, or hurt her the way the other man had earlier in the day. Putting out his cigarette, he tried to make himself comfortable. Comfort was an absolute necessity for what he was about to do.

Dream walking was easy, he'd been doing it for as long as he could remember. What he was about to attempt was something a bit more difficult. To dream walk, he simply entered an almost meditative state, then sent out his power, searching for the person he wanted to contact. He could locate them using either their unique aura or the imprinted memory of their… essence—their image or scent, whatever it was about the person that lingered in his mind. Then he could either insert himself into their existing dream or twist it to suit whatever he fancied.

This—dream viewing—was something else entirely. He knew he would be drained afterwards, a tiny bit closer to the ever threatening instability that hunted him. It took a greater effort, to enter into someone's existing dream and mask his presence, remaining an unseen observer to the person's subconscious mind. Still, he had to attempt it—he was curious to know exactly what it was that Belikov would be dreaming about, after seeing Rose cuddling up against the notorious Adrian Ivashkov's side.

He knew the other man would be sleeping soon. He'd had the foresight to inquire about the Guardian's schedule. He hadn't even needed to exert any compulsion, relying solely on his good looks and outstanding charm. A few compliments and just the slightest bit of flirting with the middle-aged female in charge of Guardian affairs had won him a copy of Belikov's schedule. It would be so much easier to court Rose now that he knew when the other man would be on patrol.

He began to ground himself, slowing his breathing until it was deep and even. When he felt sufficiently calm, he sent his power out, searching for the mind and aura of the man he was seeking. He found it almost immediately, but he couldn't access it right away. The Russian was sleeping, but not deeply enough to have entered into his dream cycle. Adrian waited patiently, and was rewarded soon enough.

There.

He pulled some of his power back, not wanting to alert Belikov of his presence. The dream was still forming when he stepped into it, and he watched with interest as a room took shape around him. It was… Spartan, to say the least. Plain, more like the cell of a monk than the living space of a normal man in his twenties. The room was dim, lit only by a small bedside lamp. Adrian leaned against the small bookshelf, snorting to himself as he glimpsed at the titles. Western novels, each and every one. Couldn't the man read something a bit more adventurous? Maybe some W.E.B. Griffin or even Tom Clancy?

A frantic banging on the door drew his attention back to his surroundings and he watched as Belikov entered the room from an open doorway—the bathroom, perhaps. Adrian narrowed his eyes, realizing instantly that this wasn't an ordinary dream. This wasn't a random occurrence created by the other man's sleeping mind. It felt… different. This was a dream Belikov had often, but it was something more—it was a… memory. One the other man replayed frequently.

Belikov opened the door, revealing an absolutely mouth-watering vision—Rose, standing in the sexiest little black dress imaginable. Adrian crossed his arms, wondering where this was headed. He studied the faint aura that surrounded the other man. Even in memory, it was still visible, albeit faintly. He was full of lust—not that Adrian blamed him. Wearing that dress, Rose could conquer nations.

"Rose?" Belikov said.

"Let me in. It's Lissa."

He immediately stepped aside , allowing her to enter. Interesting how quickly he let her in, considering she was dressed to seduce and he was wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms.

"What's wrong?"

Adrian watched with amusement as Rose threw herself at his chest. Her 'mentors' eyes closed for a moment as her lips made contact with his bare skin. Almost immediately, they shot back open.

"Rose!" he exclaimed, stepping back. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" She approached him, her hips swaying seductively.

He took another step backwards, holding his hands out as if to keep her at bay "Are you drunk?"

"Don't I wish!" She started to dodge around him, then stopped, a heartbreaking expression of uncertainty crossing her lovely face. "I thought you wanted to—don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Rose, I don't know what's going on, but you need to go back to your room."

She moved towards him again and his hands shot out, gripping her wrists. With that touch, their auras flared to life, resembling a supernova. They were surrounded by a golden light, shot through with flickering waves of claret colored lust. Belikov's eyes widened for a moment, and Adrian recognized the expression on his face. All men had a version of it—he was about to give in.

Releasing Rose's wrists, he moved his hands slowly up her arms before pulling her close, pressing her tightly to his body. One of his hands moved up the back of her neck, his long fingers twining in her thick, dark hair as he tilted her head. Adrian's lip curled up in disgust as Belikov brought his lips down brushing them against Rose's.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" She asked.

Adrian glared at the other man, mentally daring him to lie. She was so much more than just pretty—the word was an insult to how gorgeous she was.

Belikov stared down at her. "I think you're beautiful."

"Beautiful?"

"You are so beautiful, it hurts me sometimes."

Rolling his eyes, Ivashkov sauntered over to the desk, making himself comfortable in the spindly chair. This might take a while, but he'd wait it out. He knew in a minute or two Belikov would come to his senses and banish Rose from the room.

He kissed her again, his hands sliding down her arms, down her hips, down to the edge of her spectacular dress. He gathered up the fabric in his hands and began pushing it up her long legs. She moaned, pressing herself against him. His hands kept sliding up and up, until he'd pulled the dress over her head and tossed it on the floor.

Adrian shifted in the chair. He'd been wrong earlier. Rose in the flesh—so to speak—was a million times more amazing than he ever would have imagined. This was progressing much further than he'd thought it would. Surely Belikov didn't intend to—

"You…you got rid of that dress fast," She was practically panting. "I thought you liked it."

"I do like it," he said. His breathing just as heavy. "I love it." With that, he scooped her up, carrying her over to the bed.

Adrian felt a momentary surge of guilt as he watched them. Lying on the bed, they clung to each other and kept kissing—and kissing and kissing and kissing. His hands and lips were all over her, claiming her as his own. This was not what he'd expected to find lingering in the depths of Belikov's mind. He had thought they'd shared an embrace or two, nothing more.

The way the Russian stared down at Rose, murmuring her name in Russian, over and over again, not to mention the look in Rose's eyes as she stared up at him—this might be more difficult than he'd thought. Coming between them might actually be a bit of a challenge.

Thank God the pajama pants stayed on—Adrian had no desire to see the other man undressed. But Rose… My God she was a sight. Her body was like a work of art, glowing in the dim light, her eyes sparkling with desire. When she shifted, hovering over the other man, with her hair hanging down around them, Adrian had to readjust himself. He had to have her—no matter what the cost. Belikov's voice brought him out of his fantasies, the passion the other man felt making his accent so thick his words were almost hard to understand.

"Sometimes I find peace there, but not often. I find more peace with you."

Damn, Adrian thought to himself. The man knew how to throw out a line.

He rolled Rose off of him, moving on top of her again. The kissing picked up once more, harder this time. More urgent. Adrian's eyes narrowed. Hell no—it was time to put a stop to this. The actual event may have already occurred, but he'd be damned if he'd let Belikov relive the moment in this dream. He needed the other man to be frustrated and on edge. He flexed his power, twisting the dream for only an instant, turning it into a spirit dream without even really thinking about it. Rose disappeared, leaving Belikov hovering over an empty matress, looking confused.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your hands off my future girlfriend." Adrian's voice was taunting.

Belikov's head shot up, his eyes searching the dimly lit room. "Ivashkov?"

"In the flesh… sort of."

The other man groaned, mumbling in Russian as he buried his face in the pillows.

"That won't do you any good. I speak Russian." Adrian stood, sauntering towards the bed, glaring down at the dhampire. "When you wake up, remember what I said. Rose is mine now. Stay away from her."

That got his attention. "Rose is most certainly not yours. She's much too smart to involve herself with—"

Adrian cut him off, determined to break through his calm exterior. "She will be mine. You've pushed her away one too many times. If you really looked into her eyes you'd realize that. She needs someone to swoop in and help her pick up the pieces—and that someone is going to be me. Too bad you didn't appreciate what you had before you lost it. The situation with Natasha will be your undoing. Rose won't play second fiddle to anyone. I can see that, and I've known her for less than 24 hours. Keep up the good work, Belikov, I appreciate the way you're sending her straight into my open arms." He watched the other mans fist ball up in anger, pleased to see the reaction he'd been waiting for. "You're waking up, Belikov. If you'll excuse me, I think it's time I paid my little Rosebud a visit."

With that, he withdrew his power, shattering the dream. An instant later he shook his head, reaching for the bottle on his nightstand. He was willing to bet that Belikov was throwing on his clothes, preparing to rush through the lodge and station himself near Rosemarie's door, ready to intercept any male suitors that happened to stop by for a visit. Adrian laughed at the thought, knowing the other man's actions would anger Rose even more, widening the gulf that was forming between them. Clutching the bottle to his chest, he welcomed sleep, knowing that tonight, it would be dreamless.