I was right. Mason got really worked up.
“What?” he exclaimed as we walked into my room. “They’re not doing anything?”
I shrugged and sat on my bed. “Dimitri said—”
“I know, I know . . . I heard you. About being careful and all that.” Mason paced around my room angrily. “But if those Strigoi go after another Moroi . . . another family . . . damn it! They’re going to wish they weren’t so careful then.”
“Forget about it,” I said. I felt kind of miffed that me on a bed wasn’t enough to deter him from crazy battle plans. “There’s nothing we can do.”
He stopped walking. “We could go.”
“Go where?” I asked stupidly.
“To Spokane. There are buses you can catch in town.”
“I . . . wait. You want us to go to Spokane and take on Strigoi?”
“Sure. Eddie’d do it too . . . we could go to that mall. They wouldn’t be organized or anything, so we could wait and pick them off one by one . . .”
I could only stare. “When did you get so dumb?”
“Oh, I see. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“It’s not about confidence,” I argued, standing up and approaching him. “You kick major ass. I’ve seen it. But this . . . this isn’t the way. We can’t go get Eddie and take on Strigoi. We need more people. More planning. More information.”
I rested my hands on his chest. He placed his over them and smiled. The fire of battle was still in his eyes, but I could tell his mind was shifting to more immediate concerns. Like me.
“I didn’t mean to call you dumb,” I told him. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re just saying that now because you want to have your way with me.”
“Of course I am,” I laughed, happy to see him relax. The nature of this conversation reminded me a little of the one Christian and Lissa had had in the chapel.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t think I’m going to be too hard to take advantage of.”
“Good. Because there are lots of things I want to do.”
I slid my hands up and around his neck. His skin was warm beneath my fingers, and I remembered how much I’d enjoyed kissing him last night.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, he said, “You really are his student.”
“Whose?”
“Belikov’s. I was just thinking about when you mentioned needing more information and stuff. You act just like him. You’ve gotten all serious since you’ve been hanging out with him.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Mason had pulled me closer, but now I suddenly didn’t feel so romantic. I’d wanted to make out and forget Dimitri for a while, not have a conversation about him. Where had this come from? Mason was supposed to be distracting me.
He didn’t notice anything was wrong. “You’ve just changed, that’s all. It’s not bad . . . just different.”
Something about that made me angry, but before I could snap back, his mouth met mine in a kiss. Reasonable discussions sort of vanished. A bit of that dark temper started to rise in me, but I simply channeled that intensity into physicality as Mason and I fell on top of each other. I yanked him down on the bed, managing to do so without stopping the kissing. I was nothing if not a multitasker. I dug my nails into his back while his hands slid up the back of my neck and released the ponytail I’d just made minutes ago. Running his fingers through the unbound hair, he shifted his mouth down and kissed my neck.
“You are . . . amazing,” he told me. And I could tell that he meant it. His whole face glowed with affection for me.
I arched upward, letting his lips press harder against my skin while his hands slipped under the bottom of my shirt. They trailed upward along my stomach, just barely tracing the edge of my bra.
Considering we’d just been having an argument a minute ago, I was surprised to see things escalating so quickly. Honestly, though . . . I didn’t mind. This was the way I lived my life. Everything was always fast and intense with me. The night Dimitri and I had fallen victim to Victor Dashkov’s lust charm, there’d been some pretty furious passion going on too. Dimitri had controlled it, though, so sometimes we’d taken things slowly . . . and that had been wonderful in its own way. But most of the time, we hadn’t been able to hold ourselves back. I could feel it all over again. The ways his hands had run over my body. The deep, powerful kisses.
It was then that I realized something.
I was kissing Mason, but in my head, I was with Dimitri. And it wasn’t like I was simply remembering either. I was actually imagining I was with Dimitri—right now—reliving that night all over again. With my eyes closed, it was easy to pretend.
But when I opened them and saw Mason’s eyes, I knew he was with me. He adored me and had wanted me for a long time. For me to do this . . . to be with him and pretend I was with someone else . . .
It wasn’t right.
I wiggled out of his reach. “No . . . don’t.”
Mason stopped immediately because that’s the kind of guy he was.
“Too much?” he asked. I nodded. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do that.”
He reached for me again, and I moved farther away. “No, I just don’t . . . I don’t know. Let’s call it quits, okay?”
“I . . .” He was speechless for a moment. “What happened to the ‘lots of things’ you wanted to do?”
Yeah . . . it looked pretty bad, but what could I say? I can’t get physical with you because when I do, I just think about the other guy I actually want. You’re just a stand-in.
I swallowed, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry, Mase. I just can’t.”
He sat up and ran a hand over his hair. “Okay. All right.”
I could hear the hardness in his voice. “You’re mad.”
He glanced over at me, a stormy expression on his face. “I’m just confused. I can’t read your signals. One moment you’re hot, the next you’re cold. You tell me you want me, you tell me you don’t. If you picked one, that’d be fine, but you keep making me think one thing and then you end up going in a completely different direction. Not just now—all the time.”
It was true. I had gone back and forth with him. Sometimes I was flirty, other times I completely ignored him.
“Is there something you want me to do?” he asked when I didn’t say anything. “Something that’ll . . . I don’t know. Make you feel better about me?”
“I don’t know,” I said weakly.
He sighed. “Then what do you want in general?”
Dimitri, I thought. Instead, I repeated myself. “I don’t know.”
With a groan, he stood up and headed for the door. “Rose, for someone who claims she wants to gather as much information as possible, you really have a lot to learn about yourself.”
The door slammed behind him. The noise made me flinch, and as I stared at where Mason had just stood, I realized he was right. I did have a lot to learn.
SIXTEEN
LISSA FOUND ME LATER IN the day. I’d fallen asleep after Mason left, too dejected to leave the bed. Her slamming of the door jolted me awake.
I was happy to see her. I needed to spill about the fumbled thing with Mason, but before I could, I read her feelings. They were as troubled as mine. So, as always, I put her first.
“What happened?”
She sat on her bed, sinking into the feather duvet, her feelings both furious and sad. “Christian.”
“Really?” I’d never known them to fight. They teased each other a lot, but it was hardly the kind of thing that could nearly bring her to tears.
“He found out . . . I was with Adrian this morning.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. “Yeah. That might be a problem.” Standing up, I walked over to the dresser and found my brush. Wincing, I stood in front of the gilt-framed mirror and began brushing out the snarls acquired during my nap.
She groaned. “But nothing happened! Christian’s freaking out over nothing. I can’t believe he doesn’t trust me.”
&
nbsp; “He trusts you. The whole thing’s just weird, that’s all.” I thought about Dimitri and Tasha. “Jealousy makes people do and say stupid things.”
“But nothing happened,” she repeated. “I mean, you were there and—hey, I never found out. What were you doing there?”
“Adrian sent me a bunch of perfume.”
“He—you mean that giant box you were carrying?”
I nodded.
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. I came to return it,” I said. “The question is, what were you doing there?”
“Just talking,” she said. She started to light up, on the verge of telling me something, but then she paused. I felt the thought almost reach the front of her mind and then get shoved back. “I’ve got a lot to tell you, but first tell me what’s up with you.”
“Nothing’s up with me.”
“Whatever, Rose. I’m not psychic like you, but I know when you’re pissed off about something. You’ve been kind of down since Christmas. What’s up?”
Now wasn’t the time to get into what had happened on Christmas when my mom told me about Tasha and Dimitri. But I did tell Lissa the story about Mason—editing out why I had stopped—and simply driving home how I had.
“Well . . .” she said when I finished. “That was your right.”
“I know. But I kind of led him on. I can see why he’d be upset.”
“You guys can probably fix it, though. Go talk to him. He’s crazy about you.”
It was more than miscommunication. Things with Mason and me couldn’t be patched up so easily. “I don’t know,” I told her. “Not everyone’s like you and Christian.”
Her face darkened. “Christian. I still can’t believe he’s being so stupid about this.”
I didn’t mean to, but I laughed. “Liss, you guys’ll kiss and make up in like a day. More than kiss, probably.”
It slipped out before I could stop it. Her eyes widened. “You know.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Of course you know.”
“Sorry,” I said. I hadn’t meant to let her know I knew about the sex thing, not until she told me herself.
She eyed me. “How much do you know?”
“Um, not much,” I lied. I’d finished brushing my hair but began playing with the brush’s handle in order to avoid her eyes.
“I have got to learn to keep you out of my mind,” she muttered.
“Only way I can ‘talk’ to you lately.” Another slipup.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“Nothing . . . I . . .” She was giving me a sharp look. “I . . . I don’t know. I just feel like we don’t talk as much anymore.”
“Takes two to fix that,” she said, voice kind again.
“You’re right,” I said, not pointing out that two could fix that only if one wasn’t always with her boyfriend. True, I was guilty in my own way of locking things up—but I had wanted to talk to her a number of times lately. The timing just never seemed to be right—not even now. “You know, I never thought you’d be first. Or I guess I never thought I’d be a senior and still be a virgin.”
“Yeah,” she said dryly. “Me either.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
She grinned, then caught sight of her watch. Her smile fell. “Ugh. I’ve got to go to Priscilla’s banquet. Christian was supposed to go with me, but he’s off being an idiot. . . .” Her eyes focused hopefully on me.
“What? No. Please, Liss. You know how I hate those formal royal things.”
“Oh, come on,” she begged. “Christian flaked out. You can’t throw me to the wolves. And didn’t you just say we needed to talk more?” I groaned. “Besides, when you’re my guardian, you’ll have to do these things all the time.”
“I know,” I said darkly. “I thought I could maybe enjoy my last six months of freedom.”
But in the end, she conned me into going with her, as we’d both known she would.
We didn’t have much time, and I had to do a rush shower, blow-dry, and makeup job. I’d brought Tasha’s dress on a whim, and while I still wanted her to suffer horribly for being attracted to Dimitri, I was grateful for her present now. I pulled on the silken material, happy to see the shade of red was just as killer on me as I’d imagined. It was a long, Asian-style dress with flowers embroidered into the silk. The high neck and long hem covered a lot of skin, but the material clung to me and looked sexy in a different kind of way than showing a lot of skin did. My black eye was practically nonexistent by now.
Lissa, as always, looked amazing. She wore a deep purple dress by Johnna Raski, a well-known Moroi designer. It was sleeveless and made of satin. The tiny amethyst-like crystals set into the straps sparkled against her pale skin. She wore her hair up in a loose, artfully styled bun.
When we reached the banquet room, we drew a few eyes. I don’t think the royals had expected the Dragomir princess to bring her dhampir friend to this highly anticipated, invitation-only dinner. But hey, Lissa’s invite had said “and guest.” She and I took our places at one of the tables with some royals whose names I promptly forgot. They were happy to ignore me, and I was happy to be ignored.
Besides, it wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of other distractions. This room was done all in silver and blue. Midnight blue silk cloths covered the tables, so shiny and smooth that I was terrified to eat on them. Sconces of beeswax candles hung all over the walls, and a fireplace decorated with stained glass crackled away in one corner. The effect was a spectacular panorama of color and light, dizzying to the eye. In the corner, a slim Moroi woman played soft cello music, her face dreamy as she focused on the song. The clinking of crystal wineglasses complemented the strings’ low, sweet notes.
Dinner was equally amazing. The food was elaborate, but I recognized everything on my plate (china, of course) and liked all of it. No foie gras here. Salmon in a sauce of shiitake mushrooms. A salad with pears and goat cheese. Delicate almond-stuffed pastries for dessert. My only complaint was that the portions were small. The food seemed more like it was there to simply decorate the plates, and I swear, I finished it in ten bites. Moroi might still need food along with their blood, but they didn’t need as much as a human—or, say, a growing dhamphir girl—needed.
Still, the food alone could have justified me coming along on this venture, I decided. Except, when the meal ended, Lissa told me we couldn’t leave.
“We have to mingle,” she whispered.
Mingle?
Lissa laughed at my discomfort. “You’re the social one.”
It was true. In most circumstances, I was the one who put myself out there and wasn’t afraid to talk to people. Lissa tended to be shyer. Only, with this group, the tables were turned. This was her element, not mine, and it amazed me to see just how well she could interact with royal high society now. She was perfect, polished and polite. Everyone was eager to talk to her, and she always seemed to know the right thing to say. She wasn’t using compulsion, exactly, but she definitely put out an air that drew others to her. I think it might have been an unconscious effect of spirit. Even with the meds, her magical and natural charisma came through. Whereas intense social interactions had once been forced and stressful for her, she now conducted them with ease. I was proud of her. Most of the conversation stayed pretty light: fashion, royal love lives, etc. No one seemed to want to spoil the atmosphere with ugly Strigoi talk.
So I clung to her side for the rest of the night. I tried to tell myself it was just practice for the future, when I’d follow her around like a quiet shadow anyway. The truth was, I just felt too uncomfortable with this group and knew my usual snarky defense mechanisms really weren’t useful here. Plus, I was painfully aware that I was the only dhampir dinner guest. There were other dhampirs, yes, but they were in formal guardian mode, hovering on the periphery of the room.
As Lissa worked the crowd, we drifted over to a small group of Moroi whose voices were growing louder. One of them I recognized. He was the guy fr
om the fight that I’d helped break up, only this time he wore a striking black tuxedo instead of a swimsuit. He glanced up at our approach, blatantly checked us out, but apparently didn’t remember me. Ignoring us, he continued on with his argument. Not surprisingly, Moroi protection was the topic. He was the one who’d been in favor of Moroi going on the offensive against the Strigoi.
“What part of ‘suicide’ don’t you understand?” asked one of the men standing nearby. He had silvery hair and a bushy mustache. He wore a tux too, but the younger guy looked better in one. “Moroi training as soldiers will be the end of our race.”
“It’s not suicide,” exclaimed the young guy. “It’s the right thing to do. We have to start looking out for ourselves. Learning to fight and use our magic is our greatest asset, other than the guardians.”
“Yes, but with the guardians, we don’t need other assets,” said Silver Hair. “You’ve been listening to non-royals. They don’t have any guardians of their own, so of course they’re scared. But that’s no reason to drag us down and put our lives at risk.”
“Then don’t,” said Lissa suddenly. Her voice was soft, but everyone in the little group stopped and looked at her. “When you talk about Moroi learning how to fight, you make it sound like an all-or-nothing matter. It’s not. If you don’t want to fight, then you shouldn’t have to. I completely understand. ” The man looked slightly mollified. “But, that’s because you can rely on your guardians. A lot of Moroi can’t. And if they want to learn self-defense, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t do it on their own.”
The younger guy grinned triumphantly at his adversary. “There, you see?”
“It’s not that easy,” countered Silver Hair. “If it was just a matter of you crazy people wanting to get yourselves killed, then fine. Go do it. But where are you going to learn all these so-called fighting skills?”
“We’ll figure the magic out on our own. Guardians will teach us actual physical fighting.”
“Yes, see? I knew that was where this was going. Even if the rest of us don’t take part in your suicide mission, you still want to strip us of our guardians to train up your pretend army.”
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