On the Hunt (Sentinel Wars #3.5)(18)
Author: Gena Showalter

"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 killyou 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 humans 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?