A/N Sorry to add another irritating note, I just wanted to thank everyone for their kind words regarding my father's health. He's still in the hospital, which is why I have not been posting as many daily chapters as I normally do. Also, thanks for all the great messages and reviews—I wish I could respond to each one, but I've been at the hospital all day and am trying to get the next chapter up. In case you were unaware, Chapter 12—A Wilting Rose has been updated, fleshing it out a bit. The new portions were added to the airplane trip as well as to the very end. I'll also be doing a few minor edits to other existing chapters, small things I noticed when I down loaded this story and printed it out to review.

Blessings!

Adrian was having a crisis of conscious. Part of him—the scheming, decidedly wicked devil that he chose to be on a daily basis—wanted to take advantage of the fact Belikov was avoiding Rose. If he pushed hard enough, he knew he could use his persuasiveness to win her over, especially now that she was so in need of comfort. The other side of him, the one that was a complete stranger—it had only made itself known to him since he'd met Rose—cringed at the idea. Right now the only person she needed—wanted—had to be Belikov.

The Russian had seen the horrors that she'd faced in Spokane. He'd witnessed the fact that his presence alone had broken through her primal fury, giving her the comfort she'd so desperately needed. So why was he ignoring her? Why was he letting her suffer in her self imposed depression?

A thought shot through his mind, one that was almost too disgusting to contemplate. Had Belikov decided to accept Natasha Ozera's offer in spite of her hateful actions? Was he distancing himself from Rose because he thought it would lessen the pain she'd feel when he left her?

Adrian was in motion—on his feet and out the door without consciously being aware of his actions. His mind was focused on the anger he felt growing deep inside himself. Anger was his enemy, it always had been. It weakened the walls within him, letting tiny bits of insanity lose in his mind. At that moment, however, he didn't care. He had to confront his nemesis—it couldn't be put off any longer.

He charmed the woman that manned the desk in the lobby of the Guardian's dormitory, obtaining directions to Belikov's quarters. The man answered after the first knock, stunned to see who stood before him.

"Lord Ivashkov?"

"What the fuck have you done?" Adrian's voice sounded different, even to his own ears. It was filled with fury.

Belikov narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Did you accept Natasha's offer?"

Belikov arched a dark eyebrow, frowning. "That is none of your business."

"The hell it isn't! She called Rose a blood whore! She practically admitted to using compulsion to get what she wants—then she tried to get me to join in her nasty little games."

He stared at the taller man, slowly losing his grip on reality. He stepped closer to the Russian, invading the other man's personal space. In that moment, he didn't care that Belikov stood several inches taller, or that he was noticeably more muscular. He didn't think about the fact the man was a trained killer. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"What games?"

Adrian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Pulling an engraved silver flask out of his pocket, he threw his head back, not stopping until it was empty. The vodka burned a path to his stomach, easing his anger instantly. The crazed feeling receded—unfortunately not entirely.

"Besides using compulsion to turn you into her love slave? Blackmail. She wanted to blackmail you. She planned on using Rose against you. I… convinced her it was a bad idea."

Dimitri frowned. "That explains why her strange voice mails ended so abruptly. Thank you." He studied Adrian, his expression shifting into the indifferent mask that he wore on a daily basis. "What did you do?"

"I told her to leave it alone."

"That can't be all you did."

Adrian smirked at him. "No, but that's all you need to know."

"Why?"

"Because I don't feel like telling you." Adrian pushed past him into the room, settling himself onto the spindly desk chair.

Belikov shut the door, leaning back against it. He crossed his arms across his muscular chest and glared at Adrian. "That's not what I meant and you know it. Why did you even bother? It would have been better for you if you'd gone along with her."

"Because I was feeling… generous." Adrian studied the ceiling, not wanting to meet Belikov's eyes. "Because I don't like Natasha. Hell, I don't know. Maybe because when I win the girl, I want to know it's because I put up an honest fight, for once in my life."

"I told her no, but I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself, for now."

"Why are you avoiding her? She needs you."

Belikov sighed. "Adrian, Rose is mourning her… boyfriend—"

"Bullshit. The only thing she felt for the kid was friendship. Trust me. Mason Ashford was no gallant hero rushing to rescue his lady love." Adrian paused, thinking about how to phrase his next thought. "Actually, the fact he cared for her might have been part of the reason he went back inside, but it's not the whole story. He felt guilty."

"For what? Leading them there?"

"No, because the entire time he was tied to the chair, he kept blaming Rose in his mind. In his eyes, it was all her fault, because she had rejected him. That's what drove him to set off on his little adventure."

"And you know this how?" Belikov's aura flicked with hope. Shit. He had really thought Rose had been in love with the kid.

"I was in his head, remember? You slapped the shit out of me to pull me out of his dreams."

"Again, I have to wonder why exactly you're being so… forthcoming."

Adrian considered the question for a moment, running his hands through his dark hair. "Because I want her to be happy again, and unfortunately, right now that means she needs you, not me."

He stood, preparing to leave, only to freeze in place as a strange, hazy feeling settled over him. Fuck. He recognized what was happening—whatever was about to come out of his mouth would be something all kinds of crazy. "You'll repay me for what I've done. In time, our roles will be reversed. Then it will be your turn to make a sacrifice on her behalf."

He shook his head, suddenly dizzy. Belikov reached out, grabbing his arm to steady him as he swayed on his feet. The expression on the Russian's face was one of pure worry.

"Are you alright, Ivashkov?"

"Yeah. I hate it when that happens."

"You have the gift of prophecy." Belikov released him, studying his face.

"No, I—"

"You do." His accent was suddenly much thicker as he cut Adrian off in mid-sentence. "My grandmother has it, I recognize the signs. For a minute, it seemed as if someone else had taken over your body."

Adrian smirked. The situation had gotten too strange for even his crazy ass to be comfortable with. "Whatever." He stared at the other man, it was incredibly easy to catch his gaze, since Belikov had been studying him. Thrusting his compulsion into the other man's mind, he set to work. "The only thing you're going to remember about tonight is that Natasha needs to be avoided."

He paused for a moment, considering if anything else needed to remain. "You'll also remember that Rose didn't love the Ashford boy, and that she is suffering right now because she lost a friend—that's all he was to her. You'll remember the… prophecy as well, but only when the time comes for you to fulfill it. Understand?"

"Yes." The compulsion was heavy, affecting the other man so strongly that his voice sounded sleepy.

"Go to bed, Belikov. I'll see myself out."

Without another word, Dimitri climbed into bed. Adrian opened the door, grinning as he looked over his shoulder. "Belikov—once Rose is back to normal, I stop being such a nice guy. Consider yourself warned."

With that, he left the room, making his way out of the building and into the early morning sunlight. The wind carried his off-key whistling across the silent commons area, the tune sounding suspiciously like 'Love Grows' by Edison Lighthouse.