Disclaimer: all rights to VA go to Richelle Mead. I only own the plot.

Italic = Mental conversations/past situations (depending on the appearance).

Ch.4 RPOV

The nerve of him. Bastard. I just wanted to shout every bad word I knew at him.

What he'd whispered in my ear was just the beginning. "You know you want me. Meet me in your room tonight?"

Gross. How he ever thought that he was handsome and attractive was beyond me.

But I guess, some people were naturally arrogant. And also naturally made people angry at them.

Down the table, I could see Dimitri Belikov - the cool, calm, not-easily-ruffled man I'd sparred with this morning - actually seething, glaring at his father as he watched him with a barely concealed rage.

There was nothing that could have triggered him to act that way, and yet, his eyes seemed to be burning a hole into the table, the table that blocked his view to Randall Ivashkov's hand on my leg. I wasn't so concerned about the Ivashkov's hand yet, but if he moved it higher, I would be.

And that was exactly what he did. Honestly, some people are so predictable sometimes.

I flicked his hand off my thigh, making sure to accidently break his finger bones.

He actually howled in pain. Seriously? Broken finger bones were child's play. "You-" he growled.

Dimitri Belikov shot up from his seat, and his glare was enough to send his father quailing in his seat.

"Out," he thundered. "Now."

Suddenly I felt Lissa call out to me from her mind. She couldn't read other's minds from her own, bless her, but in a way, she was just as intuitive as I was. I excelled in mind reading - she excelled in auras and personalities.

You're enjoying this, aren't you?

I smirked at her, and I felt her shock.

You saw this would happen, didn't you?

I knew that Randall Ivashkov would do this, yes. But I didn't foresee his son would react this way. I sent back to her.

We both watched as Dimitri Belikov practically dragged his father out the dining room doors.

Distract them while I go after them? I asked Lissa.

I didn't wait for her answer before I stood up. My father always told me to brush 'dust' from my dress after I sat down and stood up. I'd always rolled my eyes. I mean, you can't accumulate dust on your dress from the duration you sat down to have a meal, right? Yes, there would be some invisible dust, but you can't see it. So what's the point in brushing the invisible dust from my dress?

Now, I made it a point to very obviously brush the 'dust' from my dress, before I darted out the door.

Dimly, I heard Lissa telling the others that I had something to do.

I didn't wait to hear their response.

I hurried down the corridor, before I remembered that I was in a dress. How other royals could stand to wear these everyday, I had no idea. Dresses were impractical, and impossible to move in. The only good thing in it was that I could hide lots of weapons between the folds of the fabric.

This goddamn dress wasn't making it easy to walk.

I took a look around my surroundings. No one. I spread out my mind. No one nearby other than the ones at the dinner.

This was easy. I concentrated, and the fabric of my dress lapsed into a shirt and pants.

Better.

I followed their scents, a distinct smell of the scent I'd smelled this morning mixed with a barely tolerable scent.

Dimitri Belikov and Randall Ivashkov definitely had went this way.

DPOV

I was so angry I couldn't think properly. How dare he touch my Roza. Even if she technically wasn't mine yet, I still was possessive. Until she rejected my advances and didn't say yes to an engagement between us, she was mine.

And he had no right to touch her.

I'd brought him to his room, because I intended to beat him up and to go to the gym meant he wouldn't be able to walk back, and that would raise questions. His room didn't have hand wraps to protect my knuckles, but that was fine by me. I'd grown used to the skin there split up.

"What's wrong, son?" He taunted. "Grown so soft you wouldn't hit your father?"

I never lost my temper over his words. What angered me, was the fact that he just was plain disgusting.

He wanted a girl, he took her. He numbed his political paranoia with alcohol, and whatever warm and loving feelings he had once reserved for us were replaced with his anger and rage.

He'd started beating my mother and Karo a few months ago, and I in return beat him back. It wasn't right to take out your anger and resentment on your family. I kept reminding myself that I was doing it to protect the women in my family, but it always felt like I was doing the same thing he did to my sister and mother, only that I used him as my punchbag.

But this time was different. He'd made advances on a royal girl, someone who was a guest in our house, and if everything went right, a girl who would be my wife someday.

Apparently he grew tired of my not responding.

He lunged at me.

His move was uncoordinated, nothing against my decade of experience. Sure, he may be older, but he hadn't trained to be a warrior.

I sidestepped it easily, and was about to punch him in the jaw when he kicked at my legs. I shoved him into the wall and punched his jaw for good measure.

A voice only an angel could have cut through my anger-induced haze.

"Stop!"

Standing in the doorway, in a T-shirt and jeans, her dark hair curled exactly the way it was tonight at dinner.

Rose Hathaway-Mazur.

She walked in, wearing a pair of sneakers that matched perfectly with her shirt and pants to create a casual yet stylish look.

My father licked his lips. "Come here to service me and make him see reason, girl?"

Rose Hathaway didn't so much as look in his direction before she took hold of my hand. She examined the broken skin, and told me softly, "It'll heal, but I have to clean the wound. It's going to hurt."

My father's mouth twisted. "You'd rather spend time with him" - he gestured towards me - "than with me?"

Rose ignored him.

And I could see the tell-tale signs of his anger clouding into his eyes.

He raised his hand - and brought it down over her.

No. No matter what he did, he will never be able to and never will hurt her. Not my Roza.

I wouldn't allow him to hurt her.

Not Roza. Never my Roza.

I caught his hand and flipped him onto the floor. I didn't stop there. The blood roared in my ears as I launched myself at him.

He'd tried to hurt Roza. He would pay.

I was about to hit him with everything I had before I felt Roza's soft hand pressed against my lower back, silently urging me to let it go.

But the thing was, I was so angry that it clouded my rational thinking, making me think of just making him pay.

"Let him go, Dimitri," she pleaded. "He wants you to hurt him. It would give him a valid excuse for him to hit you back."

My hand faltered, raised above him. I'd never thought of it that way. I dragged my eyes from those resentful eyes and hateful scowl to the smile and gentle eyes of a true angel.

"Let him go," she repeated. My hand fell, limp. She helped me off him as she guided me to the door.

"I'll call a healer up for him," Vasilisa said from the door, gesturing to the sorry heap of man who had given his seed for my conception.

I hadn't noticed her. Neither had Rose, judging from her raised eyebrows. But she overlooked that fact, instead nodding her head at her friend in gratitude.

Suddenly I felt the feeling of someone mind contacting someone else.

I saw the glazed off look in Vasilisa's eye, and the intent look on Roza's face as she looked at her friend.

Suddenly Rose nodded, and then she tugged on my hand and led me away.

I found myself in front of her door in guest housing a few minutes later.

She'd gone inside to check something, and I was standing like a dumbass here.

"Here, come in," she said, opening her door.

I went in there numbly, and sat down on the sofa. I'd made sure she'd gotten one of the best guest suites we had.

She knelt in front of me, cleaning the wound with gentle fingers. "It's going to hurt," she said, just before she pressed cleansing alcohol against the torn skin.

She was right. It did hurt, but I'd gotten used to it over the years. Now, it only elicited a hiss from my throat.

"How did you know what to use to clean the wound?" I asked her, needing to fill the silence.

She tensed. "Eddie always came up from the gym with his hands destroyed - he forgets to put on hand wraps all the time - and he didn't want father to know, so I decided to treat his wounds by myself."

There was clearly something she wasn't telling me, and I wasn't about to make her hate me before I started to get to know her.

Maybe her hesitation had something to do with the information Eddie had withheld this morning.

There was something I could do to see that piece of information, but it was something I hated to do. However, it was absolutely necessary in this case.

I grazed her mind with mine, surprised to see her shields were half-down. So she trusted me enough to let them down a bit, but she didn't trust me enough to let them down completely.

Interesting.

I regretted doing this. It would destroy her trust in me, and make her angry at me. And from what I'd seen this morning, her angry was something to be feared greatly.

I shoved my way into her mind, reading the piece of information they'd kept hidden from me.

The latest scene was one of my father cornering her in her old room - no wonder why Vika had arranged for a change of Roza's suite. Rose had compelled him to forget he'd been in her room and forget the Mazurs had came.

Another one that seemed important was a conversation between Rose and her father. "You can't tell them your elements, kiz. It's dangerous until we know they can be entirely trusted. Although I do trust dear old Lena, but I have no idea if her son and daughters are trustworthy."

Part of me was enraged that he didn't trust our family, but another rational part of me knew his thinking was logical.

Another memory floated to the front of her mind - the moment she'd seen me. How she'd talked to Eddie - the sibling banter between them, the seriousness in his tone as he reminded her of their duty. As he reminded her of what her father wanted.

With a gasp, I started to pull back out of her mind.

I'd seen more than I wanted.

I couldn't get out. How was that possible?

The answer came to me a moment later. She'd trapped me inside her mind. I lost it groaned from not realising it earlier.

I had to get out of here before she destroyed my mind.

I shaped my consciousness into a sharp blade-shaped spear, and slammed it into her shields.

I should have known it wouldn't have been so easy. Her shields were unbreakable.

Really? I heard her amused tone sounded in my head. I've never tested them. Good to know.

Let me out. I told her firmly.

I heard a tinkling laugh, then I was abruptly thrown out of her mind, back into mine.

"That was to teach you a lesson," she said, studying her fingernails. "Never go into the mind of someone who you don't completely trust without leaving an anchor - something that ties you to your body - behind."

"Like you know," I grumbled.

She blinked at me. "Oh, I do."

Hey guys. Late update like usual, no time to write... Please leave a review or favourite and follow this story! And thanks to the people who've been supporting this story. Your kind comments always make me determined to finish the next chapter quickly!