Chapter Four

She didn’t visit.

For the next year, Vasili looked for her in every shadow, waiting. Hopeful, damn him, for a glimpse of her. He spent more time in “their” tent than he did in his palace. Or training. Or hunting.

Because of Rose, he was distracted, on edge, and too fucking needy. His people were now leery of him, afraid he’d snap their heads off. And he just might. Damn her!

He liked women, and he liked sex, but the two had a place in his life—and that was right after everything important. Doing without shouldn’t have bothered him. But he kept thinking about Rose, and his body kept reacting. He wanted her. Badly.

In one week and twenty-three hours, she would be twenty years old. No longer too young for him.

And despite her origins, he could final y have her. But only after he punished her for reducing him to this. A grumpy king, a disgruntled suitor, and a terrible brother.

She owed him, and he would col ect. You didn’t ask someone how to reach them, and then never try to reach them. It was rude. And Vasili had always believed in the power of civility. Fine.

He was a recent convert. But because she’d made him wait—and wait and wait—he was having one of his night-rose tattoos removed.

Yeah, he’d gotten another one. Stupid wine. He hadn’t meant to consume so much last week, but his mind had wandered—about Rose, of course—and he’d thought a second tattoo would look amazing on his other arm.

Jasha hadn’t stopped teasing him since.

He would punish Rose for that, as wel .

After he tasted her. By now he’d realized that she was nearly too lovely to resist. Too stubborn, too. Which, despite everything, made him proud of her. Hel , these days he was always proud of her.

She was resisting him with a strength he himself did not possess, and he was proud.

Last time, she’d armed herself, and every time he remembered it, he was proud. She’d fought him with more skil than he would have guessed, and he was proud. She’d asked him how she could return, and he was fucking proud. It was disgusting. Next he’d be claiming his husbandly rights. Not just sex, because that was on the menu no matter what, but everything. Her presence, her constant attendance to his needs. Her heart.

Rights that belonged to him. No one else. Any man who touched her would—Nothing. His shoulders slumped against his throne. He couldn’t reach them. Which was frustrating and damned irritating. He was a king. He could control people with his mind. Their actions, their words—even rip their skin open with only a thought. Yet he couldn’t cross a stupid threshold of shimmering air and check on his property.

Yes. Property. That was what she was, he decided with a smile, already imagining how she would react when he informed her of her new status. Most likely, she’d finish the introduction of her knee to his bal s.

“You’re scaring the guests.” Jasha’s deep voice drew him from his dark musings. “Honestly, that smile is evil. You look ready to torture someone.”

They were seated side by side on their royal dais, a party in ful swing around them. Soft music played, every note perfect. It should be; the orchestra was comprised of the best of the best.

“They don’t like the look of me, they can leave.” But even as he spoke, he gentled his expression. He needed a distraction, damn it. Otherwise, he’d never survive the next seven days, twenty-two hours, and forty-three minutes until Rose’s birthday.

He scanned the room. Gold filigree lined the wal s in circling patterns, gleaming in the light cast by the many chandeliers. Windows arched under each golden circle, rain pattering against the glass. There were too many lords, ladies, and Monstrea dancing and laughing to see the gold-veined marble floors he wanted to lay Rose upon, stripping her, touching her, final y tasting her.

His fingers curled around the arms of his throne, and if those arms hadn’t been made of onyx, he was certain he would have bent them. As it was, his fingers cracked the stone.

Distraction. What to do, what to do. He continued his study until his gaze caught Grigori’s. The Monstrea stood in the far corner of the bal room, armed for war.

His friend nodded, silently tel ing him al was wel . A surprise. Half of the attendees were from the neighboring kingdom—and his enemies—so he’d expected a fight to break out. But they were here to make nice, to offer him a peace settlement, as wel as one of their princesses, so they were on their best behavior.

Relax. He returned the nod.

Grigori’s glowing red eyes shifted back to the dance floor, and for a second, only a second, Vasili would have sworn utter longing claimed the man’s expression. Interesting. Now, there was another surprise. Vasili fol owed the line of his friend’s gaze, but couldn’t pinpoint a specific female. Just a group. What he did notice, however, was that everyone in that group was human—

and al four of the visiting princesses were there. Twice as interesting. One, Monstrea usual y mated only with other Monstrea, and two, King Greer was especial y prejudiced against the warriors.

In fact, the king had threatened to leave if Vasili didn’t send them away. After Vasili showed the king to the door, the man had grudgingly withdrawn his ultimatum.

“Is Grigori seeing anyone?” he asked his brother.

Jasha’s head tilted to the side as he considered. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“Just curious.” If the warrior hadn’t talked about his love life with Jasha, Vasili wouldn’t do it for him. “How about you? Anyone special?”

“No.” Hard tone, no room for discussion.

Hint taken. And discarded. “I’ve been wondering something. Are you stil a virgin?”

His brother sputtered, cheeks red. “I’m not answering that.”

So yes, yes, he was. Unbelievable! “Let me pay for—”

“But you . . .” his brother interjected loudly, as if Vasili hadn’t spoken; then he lowered his voice.

“You’re stil seeing your Rose.” Wouldn’t do if one of the princesses overheard. They were currently walking to the dance floor, al four of them, though each continual y cast hopeful glances his way.

Peace he would give. Marriage, no.

“Yes. I’m stil seeing my Rose.” No reason to deny it. Not when she would be here in one week, twenty-two hours, and thirty-seven minutes.

“Two years, and there’s been no one else for you.”

He wanted to say, That you’ve seen, but the words refused to form. They would disrespect Rose. Stupid! When she arrived, he planned to disrespect her plenty. In a bed. In a tub. On the floor, as he’d already imagined.

“I want to meet her.”

“No,” he rushed out. Jasha wouldn’t recognize what she was. Not on sight. But if Rose were to accidental y reveal the secret of her origins . . . Not just no, but hel , no. Change the subject. “Think Greer truly wishes peace with us?” Excel ent. Bloodshed and mayhem. A much safer topic.

“Hardly. He’s wily, always planning, and, as you know, his offer of al iance makes me uneasy.”

Vasili sought the man in question. He stood at the back of the bal room, three lovely ladies surrounding him. They fed him tiny pieces of fruit, caressed him, doted on him, laughed at his coarse teasing. He was older than Vasili by at least twenty years, yet no less muscled and honed.

“But I hate the danger you are continual y in,” Jasha went on. Then he sighed. “Perhaps you should take him up on his offer and wed one of his daughters. Perhaps that wil final y mel ow him.”

“And be stabbed while sleeping for my efforts? Please.” But to be honest, Vasili might have risked such a union had he not already bound himself to Rose. Like Greer, he now wanted peace.

His people deserved it, he would be able to hunt other Walkers on a permanent basis, and, wel , he didn’t want Rose in danger when she visited—and eventual y moved here.

Which he wanted her to do. Desperately. But only because he could not bed another female.

Not because he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Not because she intrigued him and made him laugh. Not because the scent of a night rose now caused his cock to stand at attention.

He shouldn’t have married her, he thought darkly. Look what she’d reduced him to. An obsessive, frustrated, pathetic bag of hormones. After he tasted her, he should kil her rather than convince her to move here with him. Final y give her what she deserved. That way, he would stop craving, stop waiting. He was so sick of waiting. He was—

Seeing things. Rose had just appeared in front of him. Not on the dais, but just below, dancers twirling behind her. She shook her head, pale hair waving around her shoulders, and blinked, gaze roving, searching....

Vasili leaped to his feet, blood heating in his veins. He should be worrying that someone had seen her simply appear out of nowhere. But al he could think was, She’s here. At least she wore clothes similar to what his people usual y wore. Black shirt, black pants. Though right now his fol owers were dressed in gowns and formal attire.

Stil . His woman was lovely. The loveliest in the room. And she was here.

“Brother?” Jasha said. “Everything al right?”

“Better than al right.” Touch . . . He had to touch her.

He pounded down the steps, hands clenching and unclenching.

Rose spotted him, raked that silver gaze over him, and her jaw dropped. She’d never seen him in the royal uniform before. White shirt, dark breeches. Knee-high boots.

Did she like?

When he reached her, he grabbed her by the forearm and ushered her into the nearest hal way, away from the crowd. Such smal bones, easily breakable. He gentled his hold. He was thankful she didn’t struggle.

That lack of struggle could mean only one thing: She liked.

“I warned you of the dangers of coming unannounced, Rose.” But thank you for ignoring me.

“I can’t believe it worked.” She spoke in Drakish, his language, halting and stilted, but understandable. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

Her voice . . . richer than before. Huskier. His shaft twitched, thickening, hardening. And he’d thought his body desperate before. Now that she was here . . . “So you thought to test my claim?”

“No. I had a question for you. But before you interrupt me, no one has contacted me, and no one has asked me to hurt you. I know you always want that information first.”

He believed her because he wanted to, he was stupid, and his cock was thinking for him, but he didn’t care. “What’s your question?” Any chance it would be, Will you strip me?

Silence.

Guess not. He glanced at her, just a quick look. One he hoped would not affect him. Fail. His blood heated another degree, and his cock fil ed the rest of the way. Soft lamplight caressed her, highlighting the delicacy of her skin, the frosted pink of her cheeks.

She was studying the murals on the wal s with wide eyes and awe, her lush lips parted, just begging for a kiss.

He hardly noticed those murals anymore, but just then he studied them through new eyes.

Armies marched, human and Monstrea, attacking a neighboring kingdom. Blood spil ed, and victory awaited.

She should have been disgusted, not awed. That she wasn’t . . . Damn it. He was proud of her.

Again. She must appreciate strength as much as he did. He guessed he’d have to take her against the wal , as wel . For her. Since she liked them. Would be a favor to her. Of course.

“Beautiful,” she said on a wispy catch of breath.

“Yes,” he said, his voice breaking.

Her gaze flittered to him. “Where are you taking me?”

“To my chamber. The wal s are just as lovely there.”

“Why does that matter? No, wait. Stop.” Final y she tugged from his clasp, forcing him to come to a halt. There were guards posted at every door in the hal way—al Monstrea—but she paid them no heed. Or perhaps she hadn’t noticed them, too focused on the scenery and then Vasili. “My question.”

His jaw tightened as he turned to her completely, al owing only a whisper of air between them.

He motioned to the closest guard with a tilt of his head. Her gaze fol owed, and she gasped. She even scrambled backward several steps before realizing what she’d done; she rooted her feet in place and withdrew a semiautomatic.

The guards reacted instantly, jolting into motion, meaning to take down the threat to their king.

Vasili froze them in place with only a thought, swiped the gun from Rose, and sheathed it at the back of his waist.

“She means no harm,” he told the men. Then he released them from his mental hold and they stumbled over themselves in their efforts to slow their sudden, renewed momentum.

Every member of the royal family possessed an ability like his, though everyone’s was different.

His father had smoothed the harshest of emotions with a blink of his eyes. His mother had pushed images into other people’s minds. Jasha could listen to a conversation from hundreds of miles away—if he so wished. But his brother never intruded upon Vasili’s privacy, and Vasili never held his brother immobile. A courtesy to each other.

He wondered, now that Rose was wed to him, if she possessed a new ability. Or perhaps her ability to walk from one dimension to the other qualified.

“Leave us,” he added.

With only the slightest show of hesitation, they marched away. And now, Vasili was alone with his Rose. As he’d dreamed for nearly a year. Unable to help himself, he crowded her, getting in her face and backing her into the wal . Why wait until they reached his room?

When she could go no farther, she flattened her hands on his chest. Warm, soft. But she didn’t push. His heart thundered to meet her touch as he breathed her in, al the floral sweetness of her.

Too long. He’d been without her for too long.

She gazed up at him, lashes long and black and gorgeous, and gulped. “Why do they defer to you?”

“Is that your question?” He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, not quite touching but close enough to tease. “A question you risked your life to ask?”

“No.”

He answered anyway. “I’m their king.”

A gasp. “I think the meaning of what you just said was lost in translation. You’re a king?”

What was so hard to believe about that? He exuded power, just as a king should.

“Never mind,” she said as if she didn’t care. “Can I bring someone here?”

Every muscle in his body locked down on bones. He cupped her chin, lifting her head so that he could glare into her eyes. “Who do you want to bring?” If she named a man, he would find a way to reach the bastard. Tear him from limb to limb.

“My parents.”

Vasili relaxed. “No. You can’t. They’l die. Only Walkers can cross. Why do you want to bring them, anyway?” And why did he suddenly want to meet them? To see the man and woman who had created her?

She traced the col ar of his shirt. “I no longer have any kind of relationship with them, and I miss them. I just thought that if I proved myself to them, they would know I’m not crazy or on drugs and . .

. I don’t know . . . like me again.”

His skin tingled where she stroked. “You can’t tel anyone what you can do, Rose. It’s dangerous for you. For them.”

“But I’m . . . lonely.”

He didn’t like the thought of her alone and sad, and now wanted to meet her parents for an entirely different reason. To destroy them for causing her pain. “Is that how Walkers are treated in your world? With disbelief?”

“Yes. We’re considered crazy. Locked away.”

“You were locked away?” The words lashed from him.

“Only for a little while.”

Rage hammered through him. “If that ever happens again, come to me. Immediately.” Calm.

She’s here; she’s fine. Desire returned, blending with the declining rage. “Now, is this the only reason you came to see me early?” he asked silkily.

“No.” Defiance suddenly flashed up at him. “I wanted to tel you how much I hate you.”

“You hate me?” Anymore, females ran from him. With good reason. He had a fierce, frightening temper and held life and death in his hands. Stil Rose clashed with him, unconcerned. Oh, yes, he felt pride. “Prove it,” he said in that same silky tone.

She shivered. “You’ve threatened me, fought me—I’m better now, by the way, and wil kick your ass if we spar—and cursed me. I should hate you.”

He settled his big hands on her hips, al owing the tips of his fingers to slide under her shirt. More skin, more warmth and softness. “I taught you to fight, to speak properly. And you’ve been practicing, haven’t you, Rose?”

A grumble.

Because deep down she knew she belonged here. “I know you have.”

“Did you hear nothing else I said?” she demanded.

He sighed. “Cursed you how?”

“To suffer.” Accusing.

To ache, she meant. “But I can ease your . . . pain.” Oh, the ideas pouring through his head . . .

the many ways to sate her. He’d start with her breasts, tonguing her nipples, and work his way down. But not yet. First, he’d gentle her. He wanted no resistance when the passion claimed them.

“Did anyone hurt you during your training?”

A tremor, a slight arch of those hips, closing the distance. “Of course.” Breathless.

Another inch and her core would brush his throbbing cock. Was she as eager as he? “Bring them here.”

“But that wil kil . . .” Slowly she grinned. “Why, Vasili. I think you’re a romantic at heart, wanting to slay my dragons.”

“Romantic, no. Desperate for you, yes.”

She licked her lips. “I thought I was too young for you.”

“That was when you were a mere nineteen.”

“My birthday isn’t for another week. I’m not official y twenty.”

“Did I fail to mention we celebrate early here? Also, I have a present for you.”

“If you say it’s this”—she trailed her hand down his stomach and cupped him—“I’l accept.”

Yes. She was eager, and there would be no resistance from her.

His restraint broke. “Then let’s get you ready to accept.” With a groan, he fisted her hair and smashed her lips into his.