I want to be with him. Forever. She should have shied away from the thought, but couldn’t. It felt too . . . right. Too perfect. To be pleasured every day the way he’d pleasured her yesterday . . . yes, yes, a thousand times yes. But . . . did he want forever from her? They’d never been together more than a day at a time. Maybe they’d hate each other after a week. Maybe they weren’t compatible. Except in bed. There they’d be magical. No question.
But the get-along thing she couldn’t work out in her mind. Would they or wouldn’t they?
There was only one way to find out. . . .
Return and stay, without letting him drive her away. No matter how much he annoyed her. She nodded, instinctively liking the thought. Yes, she would return and stay for a week.
But first, she wanted to find out some stuff for him. He’d asked her numerous times for names of other Walkers and the dates they visited. She would find out, but she wouldn’t give him the info until she knew why he wanted it.
Moaning, she lumbered from the bed, showered quickly, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Then she made a call.
***
“I was surprised when you contacted me.”
Rose peered over at Nick. Her kind-of ex. They were inside a coffee shop, a round iron table between them, people coming in and out, and bright, hot air blustering through the door. Too bright, too hot. She suddenly missed the dark and cold of Vasili’s world.
What did he call his land, anyway? “Nightmare” just didn’t fit anymore.
“Sorry,” she said, fingers tightening around her mocha latte. “About ignoring you.” For more than a year. “That was rude, and immature, and I feel terrible.”
“I would have appreciated a reason,” he said. His hair was a darker shade of blond now, and his face a little lined. From stress? His cheeks were gaunt, as if he weren’t eating properly, and his clothing was wrinkled, as if he no longer cared about his appearance. Still, he was a handsome man, and more muscular than most humans.
“I . . . kind of have a boyfriend. We’re on again, off again.” Truth. Vasili claimed they were married.
And part of her believed him. Because part of her wanted them to be married. Even though they saw each other only once a year. That’s about to change. Soon you’ll have your week.
And then . . . more?
Hopefully. He’d put his hands on her, kissed her, tasted her, and oh, she needed more. With every minute that passed away from him, being with him stopped being a want and became a need. Like breathing. She had to have him. More of his touches, all of his kisses.
“I see,” Nick said, drawing her from her daydreams.
“I really am sorry,” she repeated. “I liked you, I did, but . . .”
“You liked him more.” A defeated sigh. “Does he know?”
About Nightmare, Nick meant. “Yes. He knows.” Be cause he lives there.
“Is he a . . . you know, too?”
She shook her head.
Nick’s dark eyes widened with shock. “And he accepts you?”
“Yes.”
He frowned, but that frown soon became tinted with sadness. “You’re very lucky.”
Lady troubles? Had someone rejected him because of what he could do? Probably. Rose could relate. She hadn’t lied to Vasili. Her parents barely spoke to her anymore, and each encounter stung worse than the last.
After they’d institutionalized her, she’d never again spoken to them about Vasili or his world, but that hadn’t mattered. The damage had already been done. They’d known her before, seen the changes in her, and hadn’t liked who she’d become. No longer their sweet little princess, but someone a little dark, a lot stubborn. Beyond harsh.
Finding a way to escort them into Nightmare had been a last-ditch effort to salvage their relationship. To make them believe. But she was almost relieved that she couldn’t take them. Vasili was her safe haven, her fantasy in the flesh. She didn’t want to share him. With anyone.
“So why’d you call, Rose?”
Nick’s question once again dragged her back into the present. God, she was easily distracted today.
“I have questions. About”—she looked around, made sure no one was paying them any attention, and whispered—“Nightmare.”
He, too, looked around. A habit every Dimension Walker probably possessed. “Okay. Ask.”
“Why us? Why can we do this and no one else? I mean, none of us are related that I’m aware of, so it isn’t genetic.”
A shrug. “You’ve read the theories online, I’m sure.”
She nodded. “One is that we’re supposed to study them, learn from them. Another is that we’re ambassadors, meant to pave the way for when the two worlds collide.” But no one could prove the two would ever collide. “Another is that we’re supposed to kill them. What do you think?”
He shrugged again. “I believe that last one. That we’re like vampire hunters, special, meant to destroy evil.”
Destroy evil. The words echoed through her skull. She sipped at her mocha, though it had chilled and settled in her stomach like lead. After that first visit, she would have agreed with him. Now? Not even a little. Vasili was important to her, and the thought of him being hunted, hurt, caused rage to burn through her. A lot more Walkers probably thought like Nick.
She released her latte before she crumpled the cup. “Have they ever hurt you?”
His chest puffed up with pride, and for a moment, she saw the man she’d dated: strong, healthy, determined. “I haven’t given them the chance.”
“And yet you still think you’re supposed to kill them? What if they’re chasing you to talk with you? To learn from you?” She remembered the people at the party last night. How they’d laughed and danced. How harmless they’d seemed. Even the monsters.
Nick gaped at her. “You’ve seen those red eyes, right?”
“Yes. So?”
“So, you know those creatures don’t want to talk to us.”
But they hadn’t hurt her. That first night, they’d taken her to Vasili. “Can they travel here?” She would love for Vasili to show up unannounced and uninvited—at least she would pretend he was uninvited—and sweep her off her feet—only to throw her on her own bed.
Wait. He’d said only Walkers could travel between the worlds. But maybe there were Walkers in his world, too.
“No.” Nick shook his head. “Many have tried to bring one over, you know, to prove there’s another side, but the bodies disintegrate every time. Dead or alive, no one from here or there can be taken from one world and placed in another unless they’re a Walker.”
Wow. She felt no pain when she traveled. Just blinked, and boom, she was in another time and place. Yet others burned to death? Just . . . wow. “Can any of us go there on our own? You know, without it being our birthday?” She could, but what about the others?
“No, and thank God for that.” Again, he frowned. “Why ask? Tell me you don’t want to spend more time there.”
“Of course I don’t,” she rushed out. A lie, and one she didn’t feel guilty for telling. She didn’t need him trying to talk her out of returning. Or rallying others of their kind to do so—forcefully. But why could she travel at will and no one else? Because she was “bonded” to Vasili?
“So why all the questions, Rose?” Nick asked.
“My birthday’s approaching, and I’m just trying to figure things out, that’s all.” Good, that’s good. Keep it casual. “So . . . when do you go back?”
“Next month.” Bitterness laced his tone. “August eighth.”
She made a mental note.
“I’ve always dreaded going back, but now . . .” He shuddered, the action making several strands of hair dance over his forehead. “In the last year, several Walkers have failed to return. Did you know that?”
“No. How do you? Hardly anyone
shares their name.” Too afraid of being labeled a crazy, as she well knew.
“The day before their birthdays was the last time they posted online.”
Yes. Telling. Or maybe not. “What if they just decided to stay?” Could they stay, though? Maybe she was the only one who could stay for extended periods of time, just like she was the only one who could travel at will.
Nick snorted. “Who would want to live in constant darkness?”
If you were in bed with a sexy man who had his hands and mouth all over you, there was a definite appeal to all that darkness. “Have you ever met a man named . . .” She hesitated, as if saying his name were a betrayal to him. But she had to know. “Vasili?”
“Met? No.” A hard glint darkened Nick’s eyes. “But heard of, yes.”
“Tell me!” Did she sound too eager? Look too eager? She was leaning forward, hands wringing together.
Clearly. Nick regarded her strangely as he pushed aside his cup and drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “He’s the king of the Northern Realm. Have you met him?”
“Well, uh, I . . .”
He took her stuttering as a yes. “Can you get close to him? Kill him?”
“No!” And anyone else who tried would feel the sting of her wrath. Sadly, that “anyone” might be Nick. At the moment, he glowed with determination.
But if she had to choose between them, she would choose Vasili. Always.
“Too bad. See, from what I’ve been able to piece together, I know there are four realms. North, South, East, and West. A different king rules each. The North and East are at war, and the South and West are allies who refuse to take part.”
Vasili, at war. With Greer. But that war had been averted, since Jasha was marrying one of Greer’s daughters. She mentioned none of that, though. She wouldn’t aid Nick’s cause with information.
“If we could kill Vasili,” he continued, “one of those realms would fall and that’s one less to worry about.”
Now her eyes narrowed, and she knew the hard glint he’d had earlier was suddenly mirrored in hers. “That would make you a murderer, Nick.” And me, as well, since my first reaction will be revenge. “You don’t want to go there. Believe me.”
“Well, I’m sick of the birthday curse,” he burst out. “Sick of dreading the darkness and the rain, the monsters and their chase. They always scent me out immediately, and I always spend the entire twelve hours I’m forced to stay there running for my life.”
“I’m sorry.” And she was. But she still would not accept his intentions.
A sandy brow arched. “That hasn’t been your experience, has it?”
“No,” she admitted. “They aren’t so bad.”
“They’re monsters, Rose.”
“Yes, but they’ve never hurt me.” Sure, Vasili had threatened—she shivered, still uncertain why the thought of Vasili’s naughtiness thrilled her so much—but he’d helped her instead.
Nick scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, there are others like me. Tired and craving an end. We want those things dead.”
“What are you planning?” she whispered, gripping the edge of the table.
He shrugged. “We’ve been talking about it, trying to plan. But that’s hard to do when no one trusts anyone else, so nothing’s been solidified yet. I’ve got an idea, though. One that might bring us all together.”
Oh . . . shit. Another reason to visit Vasili. To warn him.
***
The next day, Rose shimmied into a lacy ice-blue dress and matching heels. Vasili had never seen her in anything but pants, and at the ball, as all the women had danced around her in those velvet gowns, she’d felt drab. She’d wanted to show Vasili that she, too, could look pretty.
After doing her makeup and hair, she packed a bag. All her toiletries, lots of lingerie, a few more dresses, and some pants and tees. She’d stay all seven days, no more, no less. No matter how much he pissed her off. Then, if things worked out as she hoped, she’d return here, say good-bye to her parents, find out if Nick and the other Walkers had “solidified” anything yet, gather the rest of her things, and finally shack up with Vasili for good.
If he was on board, of course.
He’d better be on board. Rose strapped her blades onto her wrists and thighs. She recalled the weapons Vasili had worn last night, and shivered. Sexy. She’d wanted to eat him up. Now you can. She grinned as she checked her .45, threw a couple clips in her bag, and tried to anchor the gun to her waist—oops, no room. The blades took up too much space under her dress.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, keeping the gun in hand, safety on. She wouldn’t use it on Vasili, of course. Unless he pissed her off. Better to shoot him than to leave before her time ended. And the monsters she’d seen last time had looked so civilized, she doubted she’d have to use it on them. Besides, they hadn’t attacked her, and hadn’t acted as if they even wanted to attack her. For the most part, they’d kept their eyes averted. They’d even danced with the humans, those claws gentle on their partners and not drawing a single bead of blood.
Vasili clearly liked them, and they clearly respected him. So Rose planned to make an effort to befriend them, too. That didn’t mean she’d head into that palace defenseless, though. Last time, she’d meant to stay only a few minutes, so she hadn’t armed herself quite so fiercely. Plus, if another Walker showed up looking for trouble, she would be able to deliver.
With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, the white walls of her bedroom fading away. For a moment, she remembered Vasili’s bedroom. The difference between hers and his. Hers, plain. His, decadent. Hers, small. His, unbelievably spacious. Hers, dowdy. His, a rainbow of colors, textures, and patterns. Murals painted along the walls, murals of the sun and flowers and battles. Marble floors veined with gold. Alabaster columns, windows of sparkling crystal. Dark velvets and— Her mind locked on that thought. She would wrap Vasili in that velvet, then unwrap him, one inch at a time, kissing every piece of skin she bared.
His eyes would be heavy lidded, his lips parted, his expression strained.
Perfect. She repeated her vow to him, and her feet lost their anchor. For a moment, she was weightless, a little dizzy, and then all was well. Except for the sudden blast of noise and the shower of pounding rain. Her eyelids popped open, and she gasped in horror.
The dark of night, just like that first time, and hammering rain. Somehow torches were lit and remained so, illuminating a battle scene of violence and fury, far worse than anything that had been painted on the walls. Swords arced. Blood sprayed. Mud splattered as bodies fell. Monsters, so many monsters. Eyes red, glowing. Teeth bared, chomping. Men flailed, grunted.
A tremor slid down her spine. Where was Vasili?
Had the Walkers already attacked? Had Greer betrayed him?
Her wild gaze scanned, searching . . . searching . . . so many bodies, so many injured. . . . There! He held a sword, swinging the long blade, connecting with a human. That human hunched over and Vasili kicked him, sending the man reeling backward. He didn’t get up.
She wanted to shout Vasili’s name, but knew she would distract him. As every single one of her instructors had told her, distraction could kill you faster than an opponent. She looked around. She was a few yards from the action, and hadn’t been noticed yet, hidden by shadows as she was. She would have joined the fray, anything to protect Vasili, but she didn’t know who was on his side and who wasn’t.
What should she do?
Calm, steady. She couldn’t leave. Or rather, she wouldn’t. She would not be able to live with herself if something happened to him and she hadn’t been here to save him. So she dropped her bag and slinked farther into the shadows, inching closer to him. When she was but a few feet away, she crouched, wiped the frigid water from her face, and looked him over. He was cut, bleeding. Mud was splattered all over him.
Two h
umans launched themselves at him, and her breath caught in her throat. His swords whizzed through the air, slicing through the one in front and the one behind at the same time. Yet he didn’t see the third man running toward him, blade raised high, descending. . . .
Rose aimed and fired, no hesitation. Kill shot. The man grunted and fell. Vasili must have heard the boom because he whipped around, searching the dark. When he spotted her, he snarled.
“Go home!”
“After I rescue my damsel in distress,” she called.
Another man raced up behind him. She switched her attention, fired again. He, too, fell to her bullet. She’d never purposely hurt anyone before—not with the intention of utterly destroying—and would have thought she would feel guilt and sadness. All she felt was savage satisfaction that she’d protected her man.
For a moment, she thought she saw sparks of pride in Vasili’s violet eyes. Then he spun from her and rejoined the fray. If she’d thought him brutal before, he soon proved her wrong. Now he was ferocious. He gave no quarter. Showed no mercy. Moved with lethal grace, blades slicing and dicing. Men fell all around him, and every so often he looked back at her. To make sure she was watching?
Was he . . . showing off?
She nearly grinned. He was. He really was. And she was impressed. Here was a man who would always be able to protect. He would defend with a strength few possessed. He would—
Someone grabbed her from behind, hard arm winding around her neck, choking, hot breath fanning over her cheek. The other arm batted the gun out of her hand.
“Who are you?” a male voice demanded at her ear.
“Let me go,” she snapped.
“What are you? A Walker? Yes, I think so. I saw you appear. I saw your weapon. Saw you help that bastard king.”
This was not Vasili’s man, then. No panic. She’d trained. She knew what to do. Rather than tug at the arm choking her, as instinct demanded, she reached back and jabbed him in the eye. His hold loosened, enabling her to turn. Immediately she slammed her knee between his legs, and he doubled over.
Ever Night Page 7
