“Yeah?” I asked.
His eyes swept over my body. I was used to attention from Moroi guys. It just usually wasn’t so obvious. And I usually wasn’t bundled up in winter clothing and sporting a black eye.
He shrugged. “Just saying hi, that’s all.”
I waited for more, but all he did was stuff his hands into the coat’s pockets. With a shrug of my own, I took a couple steps forward.
“You smell good, you know,” he suddenly said.
I stopped walking again and gave him a puzzled look, which only made his sly smile grow a little bigger.
“I . . . um, what?”
“You smell good,” he repeated.
“Are you joking? I’ve been sweating all day. I’m disgusting. ” I wanted to walk away, but there was something eerily compelling about this guy. Like a train wreck. I didn’t find him attractive per se; I was just suddenly interested in talking to him.
“Sweat isn’t a bad thing,” he said, leaning his head against the wall and looking upward thoughtfully. “Some of the best things in life happen while sweating. Yeah, if you get too much of it and it gets old and stale, it turns pretty gross. But on a beautiful woman? Intoxicating. If you could smell things like a vampire does, you’d know what I’m talking about. Most people mess it all up and drown themselves in perfume. Perfume can be good . . . especially if you get one that goes with your chemistry. But you only need a hint. Mix about 20 percent of that with 80 percent of your own perspiration . . . mmm.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at me. “Dead sexy.”
I suddenly remembered Dimitri and his aftershave. Yeah.
That
had been dead sexy, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell this guy about it.
“Well, thanks for the hygiene lesson,” I said. “But I don’t own any perfume,
and
I’m going to go shower all this hot sweaty action off me. Sorry.”
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to me. He moved only a step closer, but it was enough for me to smell something else on him. Alcohol. I shook my head at the cigarettes, and he tapped one out for himself.
“Bad habit,” I said, watching him light it.
“One of many,” he replied. He inhaled deeply. “You here with St. Vlad’s?”
“Yup.”
“So you’re going to be a guardian when you grow up.”
“Obviously.”
He exhaled smoke, and I watched it drift away into the night. Heightened vampire senses or no, it was a wonder he could smell anything around those cloves.
“How long until you grow up?” he asked. “I might need a guardian.”
“I graduate in the spring. But I’m already spoken for. Sorry.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Yeah? Who is he?”
“
She’s
Vasilisa Dragomir.”
“Ah.” His face split into a huge grin. “I knew you were trouble as soon as I saw you. You’re Janine Hathaway’s daughter.”
“I’m Rose Hathaway,” I corrected, not wanting to be defined by my mother.
“Nice to meet you, Rose Hathaway.” He extended a gloved hand to me that I hesitantly took. “Adrian Ivashkov.”
“And you think
I’m
trouble,” I muttered. The Ivashkovs were a royal family, one of the wealthiest and most powerful. They were the kind of people who thought they could get anything they wanted and walked over those in their way. No wonder he was so arrogant.
He laughed. He had a nice laugh, rich and almost melodious. It made me think of warm caramel, dripping from a spoon. “Handy, huh? Each of our reputations precedes us.”
I shook my head. “You don’t know anything about me. And I only know of your
family
. I don’t know anything about you.”
“Want to?” he asked tauntingly.
“Sorry. I’m not into older guys.”
“I’m twenty-one. Not that much older.”
“I have a boyfriend.” It was a small lie. Mason certainly wasn’t my boyfriend yet, but I hoped Adrian would leave me alone if he thought I was taken.
“Funny you didn’t mention that right away,” Adrian mused. “He didn’t give you that black eye, did he?”
I felt myself blushing, even in the cold. I’d been hoping he wouldn’t notice the eye, which was stupid. With his vampire eyes, he’d probably noticed as soon as I stepped onto the porch.
“He wouldn’t be alive if he did. I got it during . . . practice. I mean, I’m training to be a guardian. Our classes are always rough.”
“That’s pretty hot,” he said. He dropped this second cigarette to the ground and put it out with his foot.
“Punching me in the eye?”
“Well, no. Of course not. I meant that the idea of getting rough with you is hot. I’m a big fan of full-contact sports.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said dryly. He was arrogant and presumptuous, yet I still couldn’t quite force myself to leave.
The sound of footsteps behind me made me turn. Mia came around the path and walked up the steps. When she saw us, she stopped suddenly.
“Hey, Mia.”
She glanced between the two of us.
“
Another
guy?” she asked. From her tone, you would have thought I had my own harem of men.
Adrian gave me a questioning, amused look. I gritted my teeth and decided not to dignify that with a response. I opted for uncharacteristic politeness.
“Mia, this is Adrian Ivashkov.”
Adrian turned on the same charm he’d used on me. He shook her hand. “Always a pleasure to meet a friend of Rose’s, especially a pretty one.” He spoke like he and I had known each other since childhood.
“We aren’t friends,” I said. So much for politeness.
“Rose only hangs out with guys and psychopaths,” said Mia. Her voice carried the usual scorn she harbored for me, but there was a look on her face that showed Adrian had clearly caught her interest.
“Well,” he said cheerfully, “since I’m both a psychopath and a guy, that would explain why we’re such good friends.”
“You and I aren’t friends either,” I told him.
He laughed. “Always playing hard to get, huh?”
“She’s not that hard to get,” said Mia, clearly upset that Adrian was paying more attention to me. “Just ask half the guys at our school.”
“Yeah,” I retorted, “and you can ask the other half about Mia. If you can do a favor for her, she’ll do
lots
of favors for you.” When she’d declared war on Lissa and me, Mia had managed to get a couple of guys to tell everyone at school that I’d done some pretty awful things with them. The ironic thing was that she’d gotten them to lie for her by sleeping with them herself.
A flicker of embarrassment passed over her face, but she held her ground.
“Well,” she said, “at least I don’t do them for free.”
Adrian made some cat noises.
“Are you done?” I asked. “It’s past your bedtime, and the grown-ups would like to talk now.” Mia’s youthful looks were a sore point with her, one I frequently enjoyed exploiting.
“Sure,” she said crisply. Her cheeks turned pink, intensifying her porcelain-doll appearance. “I have better things to do anyway.” She turned toward the door, then paused with her hand resting on it. She glanced toward Adrian. “Her mom gave her that black eye, you know.”
She went inside. The fancy glass doors swung shut behind her.
Adrian and I stood there in silence. Finally, he took out the cigarettes again and lit another. “Your mom?”
“Shut up.”
“You’re one of those people who either has soul mates or mortal enemies, aren’t you? No in-between. You and Vasilisa are probably like sisters, huh?”
“I guess.”
“How is she?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
He shrugged, and if I didn’t know better, I’d have said he was overdoing casualness. “I don’t know. I mean, I know you guys ran away . . . and there was that stuff with her family and Victor Dashkov. . . .”
I stiffened at the reference to Victor. “So?”
“Dunno. Just figured it might be a lot for her to, you know, handle.”
I studied him carefully, wondering what he was getting at. There had been a brief leak about Lissa’s fragile mental health, but it had been well-contained. Most people had forgotten about it or assumed it was a lie.
“I’ve got to go.” I decided avoidance was the best tactic just now.
“Are you sure?” He sounded only mildly disappointed. Mostly he seemed as cocky and amused as before. Something about him still intrigued me, but whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to combat everything else I was feeling, or to risk discussing Lissa. “I thought it was time for the grown-ups to talk. Lots of grown-up things I’d like to talk about.”
“It’s late, I’m tired, and your cigarettes are giving me a headache,” I growled.
“I suppose that’s fair.” He drew in on the cigarette and let out the smoke. “Some women think they make me look sexy.”
“I think you smoke them so you have something to do while thinking up your next witty line.”
He choked on the smoke, caught between inhaling and laughing. “Rose Hathaway, I can’t wait to see you again. If you’re this charming while tired and annoyed
and
this gorgeous while bruised and in ski clothes, you must be devastating at your peak.”
“If by ‘devastating’ you mean that you should fear for your life, then yeah. You’re right.” I jerked open the door. “Good night, Adrian.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Not likely. I told you, I’m not into older guys.”
I walked into the lodge. As the door closed, I just barely heard him call behind me, “Sure, you aren’t.”
ELEVEN
L
ISSA WAS UP AND GONE before I even stirred the next morning, which meant I had the bathroom to myself while I got ready for the day. I loved that bathroom. It was enormous. My king-size bed would have fit comfortably inside it. A scalding shower with three different nozzles woke me up, though my muscles ached from yesterday. As I stood in front of the full-length mirror and combed my hair, I saw with some disappointment that the bruise was still there. It was significantly lighter, however, and had turned yellowish. Some concealer and powder almost entirely covered it up.
I headed downstairs in search of food. The dining room was just shutting down breakfast, but one of the waitresses gave me a couple of peach marzipan scones to go. Munching on one as I walked, I expanded my senses to get a feel for where Lissa was. After a couple of moments, I sensed her on the other side of the lodge, away from the student rooms. I followed the trail until I arrived at a room on the third floor. I knocked.
Christian opened the door. “Sleeping Beauty arrives. Welcome. ”
He ushered me inside. Lissa sat cross-legged on the room’s bed and smiled when she saw me. The room was as sumptuous as mine, but most of the furniture had been shoved aside to make space, and in that open area, Tasha stood.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Hey,” I said. So much for avoiding her.
Lissa patted a spot beside her. “You’ve got to see this.”
“What’s going on?” I sat down on the bed and finished the last of the scone.
“Bad things,” she said mischievously. “You’ll approve.”
Christian walked over to the empty space and faced Tasha. They regarded each other, forgetting about Lissa and me. I’d apparently interrupted something.
“So why can’t I just stick with the consuming spell?” asked Christian.
“Because it uses a lot of energy,” she told him. Even with jeans and a ponytail—
and
the scar—she managed to look ridiculously cute. “Plus, it’ll most likely kill your opponent.”
He scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I want to kill a Strigoi?”
“You might not always be fighting one. Or maybe you need information from them. Regardless, you should be prepared either way.”
They were practicing offensive magic, I realized. Excitement and interest replaced the sullenness I’d acquired upon seeing Tasha. Lissa hadn’t been kidding about them doing “bad things.” I’d always suspected they were practicing offensive magic, but . . . wow. Thinking about it and actually seeing it were two very different things. Using magic as a weapon was forbidden. A punishable offense. A student experimenting with it might be forgiven and simply disciplined, but for an adult to actively be teaching a minor . . . yeah. That could get Tasha in
major
trouble. For half a second, I toyed with the idea of turning her in. Immediately, I dismissed the notion. I might hate her for making moves on Dimitri, but part of me sort of believed in what she and Christian were doing. Plus, it was just cool.
“A distracting spell is almost as useful,” she continued.
Her blue eyes took on the intense focus I often saw Moroi get while using magic. Her wrist flicked forward, and a streak of fire snaked past Christian’s face. It didn’t touch him, but from the way he flinched, I suspected it had been close enough for him to feel the heat.
“Try it,” she told him.
Christian hesitated for only a moment and then made the same hand motion she had. Fire streaked out, but it had none of the finely tuned control hers had had. He also didn’t have her aim. It went straight for her face, but before it could touch her, it parted and split around her, almost like it had hit an invisible shield. She’d deflected it with her own magic.
“Not bad—aside from the fact you would have burned my face off.”
Even I wouldn’t want her face burned off. But her hair . . . ah, yes. We’d see how pretty she was without that raven-black mane.
She and Christian practiced a while longer. He improved as time went by, though he clearly had a ways to go before he had Tasha’s skill. My interest grew and grew as they went on, and I found myself pondering all the possibilities this kind of magic could offer.
They wrapped up their lesson when Tasha said she had to go. Christian sighed, clearly frustrated that he hadn’t been able to master the spell in an hour. His competitive nature was almost as strong as mine.