Banquet or Brawl?
He arrived at the banquet room early for a change. He felt shaky again, his body longing for another fix. He knew he'd get it soon—as soon as she arrived. Rumors traveled like wildfire, so he had heard about Vasilisa and the Ozera kids fight almost as soon as it had happened. It was only natural that she'd bring her best friend to keep her company. If she didn't, well then he'd simply cut out and hunt her down. It would give them a chance to be alone together, seeing as how lover boy was on duty and would be unable to follow him.
He'd spotted Belikov as soon as he'd entered the room. The Guardian was standing in the shadows, his back to the wall, his face blank, betraying nothing. It didn't need to, his aura said it all. Confusion, guilt and dismay warred for dominance within him. While Adrian watched, the emotions were suddenly washed away, replaced with irritation and anger, tinted with the slightest hint of disgust as Natasha Ozera latched on to his arm. Adrian smirked at the determined expression on her face. She had no idea that her mere presence was pissing the Russian off.
The amusement he felt was short-lived as his attention was grabbed by movement near the entrance to the room. She was here, and God above, she looked like a wet dream. Her mouthwatering curves were encased by silky red material that clung to her like a second layer of skin. It seemed sexier than the little black dress he had seen in Belikov's dream. This dress had a high, mandarin style neck and a much longer hem, but still it hinted at the treasure that it encased like a tight-fitting glove. If he had his way, she'd wear this shade of red every day for the rest of her life. It made her long, dark hair gleam, reminding him instantly of his dream of her standing amid flickering flames. He tore his eyes away from her for just a moment, darting a glance at Belikov. The man looked as if someone had either punched him in the gut or kicked him in the family jewels. He understood the feeling, the sight of Rose in that dress had struck him in the exact same way.
He watched as she circulated the room at Lissa's side, seeming almost… demure for a change. When dinner was served, he was disappointed to discover she was on the opposite side of the room. He spent the entire time watching her, occasionally flicking glances at Belikov. The other man never seemed to take his eyes off of her. His expression was filled with such an intense longing that once again Adrian wondered how no one managed to catch on that he was so much more than just her teacher.
When dinner ended—finally—he worked the room, making his way over to Natasha, feeling the need to stir up a little trouble. She grimaced when she saw his approach but could hardly flee, since she was standing next to his dear, sweet mother.
"Mother. Lady Ozera." He bowed to the women, then kissed his mother's cheek. "Lovely gathering, isn't it? It's a shame Tatiana couldn't make it."
His mother rolled her eyes, barely paying attention —Priscilla was gossiping in her other ear. Tasha glared at him, waiting for him to speak. He smiled sweetly. "Doesn't Vasilisa look lovely tonight?"
Tasha offered a faint smile. "Yes, she does. It's a shame Christian couldn't make it."
"At least she has Rosemarie to keep her company. She's an absolute vision tonight, don't you think? That dress is spectacular."
Tasha winced. "Yes. She does look very… pretty. I gave her the dress for Christmas."
"Then you deserve a medal. I dare say Guardian Belikov agrees with me, he hasn't taken his eyes off her all night." Adrian grinned at her obvious rage. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need to have a word with him. I don't appreciate the way he's been undressing her with his eyes."
He felt her eyes burning a hole in his back as he crossed the room. When Belikov realized Adrian was approaching him, he visibly tensed. Dislike pulsed through his aura, mixed with a large amount of impatience.
"Good evening, Guardian Belikov." He leaned against the wall, studying the larger man.
"Lord Ivashkov." His voice was almost a growl.
"Doesn't our Rosebud look scrumptious tonight?"
Belikov's eyes narrowed slightly, still staring straight ahead.
"Your girlfriend did a superb job, picking out that dress for her. Every man in the place is imagining peeling it off of her, oh so slowly."
"Lady Ozera is not my girlfriend."
Adrian rolled his eyes. There was no way he was letting the man avoid his question. "Whatever. Don't you think my little dhampires looks great? I like this dress much better than the short black one she wore to your room that night."
Belikov's eyes widened, but only for a second. All too soon his mask was back in place. Only the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw showed his unease.
"To answer the question that's burning through your brain, no, she didn't tell me. You did."
Belikov glanced at him for a moment, then looked away. "I have no idea—"
"Cut the crap. Your dream last night. I was there. I saw everything. It was really rather… impressive. So impressive that it made me start thinking. My dear Aunt has been trying to get me to accept a guardian. I'm thinking of agreeing, on the condition that Rosemarie is the one assigned to me. What do you think? Great idea, huh?"
His eyes narrowed, and this time his voice was definitely a growl. "Rose will be assigned to Princess Dragomir. The Princess has already filed a request with the Guardian Counsel."
"Huh. Well I guess it's a good thing that a Queen trumps a Princess then, isn't it? I'm sure whoever is assigned to Vasilisa will take good care of her, just like I'll take excellent care of Rose." Adrian smirked at the rage the Russian was struggling to hide. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go see if my lovely little dhampire is wearing the perfume I gave her. It's called Amour, Amour. A fitting name, don't you think, for a love token?"
Adrian sauntered off, chuckling as Natasha brushed passed him, on her way to Belikov's side. He hoped that Belikov would finally get the message. Nothing was going to stand in his way. He was going to get Rose, even if it meant begging Tatiana on bended knee. Hell, he'd even agree to go back to college, as boring as that would be.
He'd watched Rose retreat to a corner a few minutes earlier. Slowly he snuck up behind her, trying to move as silently as possible so as not to alert her to his presence. She was quizzing one of the servers, trying to make a selection. Her question made him smile.
"Is that goose liver?"
The waitress shook her head. "Sweetbread."
Rose was reaching for it when he decided to speak. Better to warn her ahead of time. "It's pancreas,"
She jerked back, shocked. "What?"
The waitress took her reaction as rejection and moved on.
He stepped up beside her, looking immensely pleased with himself.
"Are you messing with me?" She demanded "'Sweetbread' is pancreas?"
He shrugged. "It's really good."
She shook her head, disgusted. "Oh, man. Rich people suck."
His amusement continued. "What are you doing here, little dhampir? Are you following me around?"
"Of course not," She scoffed as her eyes raked him over. He wasn't worried, he knew he looked good in a tux. "Especially not after all the trouble you've gotten us into."
He flashed one of his tantalizing smiles, and she took a step towards him, standing so close that her arm brushed against him. That small touch hit his system like a smooth shot of whiskey.
"I don't know," he teased, pleased as she eyes him appreciatively. "As many times as we keep seeing each other? This is, what, the fifth time? It's starting to look suspicious. Don't worry, though. I won't tell your boyfriend. Either of them."
She opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it. "I only have one boyfriend. Sort of. Maybe not anymore. And anyway, there's nothing to tell. I don't even like you."
"No?" asked Adrian, still smiling. He leaned toward her, his lips brushing against her ear. "Then why are you wearing my perfume?"
She blushed, taking a step back. "I'm not."
He laughed. "Of course you are. I counted the boxes after you left. Besides, I can smell it on you. It's nice. Sharp…but still sweet—just like I'm sure you are deep down inside. And you got it right, you know. Just enough to add an edge…but not enough to drown your own… scent."
He smiled a wicked smile, making the word scent sound as suggestive as possible.
"Hey," she said, tossing her hair back. "I had every right to take one. You offered them. Your mistake is in assuming me taking one means anything. It doesn't. Except that maybe you should be more careful with where you dump all that money of yours."
"Ooh, Rose Hathaway is here to play, folks." He paused and took a glass of what looked like champagne from a passing waiter. "You want one?"
"I don't drink.
"Right." Adrian smirked, handing her a glass anyway, then shooed the waiter away and took a drink of the champagne. "So. Sounds like our Vasilisa put my dad in his place."
"Your …" She glanced back at the group. Silver Hair still stood there, gesticulating wildly. "That guy's your dad?"
He grimaced, forcing himself to keep his tone light. "That's what my mom says."
"You agree with him? About how Moroi fighting would be suicide?"
Adrian shrugged and took another sip. "I don't really have an opinion on that."
"That's not possible. How can you not feel one way or another?"
"Dunno. Just not something I think about. I've got better things to do."
"Like stalk me," She deadpanned. "And Lissa."
He smiled again. "I told you, you're the one following me."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Five times—" She stopped, confused. "Five times?"
He nodded.
"No, it's only been four." She ticked them off on her hand. "There was that first night, the night at the spa, then when I came to your room, and now tonight."
The smile turned secretive. "If you say so." He wondered if he should count the dream Belikov had. That would actually make it 6 times. He decided against it—that would only confuse her even further.
"I do say so…" Again, her words trailed off as she realized that she had actually talked to Adrian one other time. Sort of. "You can't mean …"
"Mean what?" A curious, eager expression lit his eyes. It was more hopeful than presumptuous.
She swallowed, recalling the dream. "Nothing." She took a huge gulp of champagne, making him laugh.
A bright smile crossed her face, causing him to glance across the room at Belikov. The man was watching them, his expression angry. Natasha had given up, slouching in a chair. She glared at Belikov, then at Rose, her eyes flicking from one to the other as if she were watching a tennis match. Adrian was willing to bet she was regretting purchasing the dress for Rose. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, smiling as the Russians aura turned bright green.
"Why are you smiling?" Adrian asked.
"Because Lissa's still over there, working that crowd."
"No surprise there. She's one of those people who can charm anyone she wants if she tries hard enough. Even people who hate her."
Rose shot him a look. "I feel that way when I talk to you."
"But you don't hate me," he said, finishing the last of his champagne. "Not really."
"I don't like you either."
"So you keep saying." He took a step toward her, not threatening, just making the space between them seem so much more intimate. "But I can live with that."
"Rose!" A sharp female voice cut through the air as a short angry woman stormed towards them. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Nothing, I—"
"Excuse us, Lord Ivashkov," the newcomer growled. Grabbing Rose by the arm she practically drug her out of the room.
He stared after them, shocked by such a blatant display of rudeness. His eyes flicked to Belikov—the tall man was already in motion, following after the two women at a discreet distance. His abrupt departure had been noticed by Natasha, who sat, silently fuming as she played with the stem of her Champagne glass. Adrian sighed, wondering if he dared tail them. Remembering Janine Hathaway's furious expression, he decided against it. He could always visit Rose or Belikov's dreams to discover what happened. Patting his pockets he realized he'd left his cigarettes upstairs. Obviously, it was time to call it a night.