The Fiery Heart (Bloodlines 4)

She led us upstairs and wished Adrian a good night. I received a personal escort to my room, and she looked around it with approval. “Same thing they’d give a royal. Is it okay?”

I wandered around, taking in the enormous suite with its sleek furniture and state-of-the-art entertainment center. “Uh, yeah. I’d say so.”

“I know how weird this must be,” she said kindly. “But we’re doing big things here. At least that’s what everyone says.”

“They’re right,” I said. “And after rooming with Jill and fleeing authorities with you, this is kind of a non-event.”

That got me one of her brilliant smiles. I was struck by how beautiful she was and couldn’t help a pang of insecurity as I recalled that Adrian had once been so close to her—romantically and physically. Quickly, I pushed those worries aside. The past was done. I had no doubts about Adrian. Rose left with more assurances and urged me to let her know if I needed anything. When she finally took off, I settled into unpacking. Five minutes later, Adrian showed up at my door.

“Damn,” he said, kicking it shut. He grabbed hold of me and pushed me against the wall. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through today.”

I put my arms around his neck and pulled him even closer. “Actually, I have a pretty good idea,” I said, just before I met his lips in a crushing kiss.

There was an urgency in him that answered my own, and all the tightly wound tension I’d carried today exploded between us. He ran his hands over my body and then caught hold of one of my legs and hiked it up beside his hip. My blood burned within me, and I no longer felt even the least bit tired.

As sexy as an against-the-wall make-out session was, we eventually retired to my bed, which gave us both easier access to clothes, skin . . .

I sat beside him on the bed and helped him take off my sweater. “Who knew that escape plan number seventy-one would end up being ‘Vacation at Moroi Court.’”

He laughed and then brought his lips to the nape of my neck, making me shiver. “Well, why not? No Zoe . . . no Alchemists . . . no time constraints.” He trailed his lips to my shoulder and gently pushed the bra strap down. “We have a lot of freedom, Sage, and a lot of privacy.”

I couldn’t help a small gasp as his skilled lips continued their exploration. I closed my eyes and sank down into the bed, drawing him to me. This could be it, I realized. What I’d been preparing for. We finally had a very real chance to have sex without detection or interruption. It was heady. When were we going to get a chance to do this again?

And yet, as his touch continued to drive me wild, some old, frightened instinct held me back. What was I waiting for? Why was I still afraid? I wanted him, and I loved him, yet some part of me still kept hesitating. It was maddening, especially since my body was screaming for Adrian to rip my clothes off. I opened my eyes and found him looking at me.

“It’s okay,” he said, guessing my thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He placed a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“I want this. I really do. I just feel like I’m waiting for something.”

“Then wait.” The kindness and patience in his green eyes—mingled with unquestionable desire—made my heart ache.

“I just hate to waste this room and this night,” I admitted.

He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. “Who said we’re wasting anything?” He stretched his body out alongside mine and leaned in for another kiss. “Maybe we’re not doing it, but believe me, Sage, there are plenty of other ways to pass the time.”

Chapter 15

ADRIAN

I SLEPT WITH SYDNEY THAT NIGHT—in the literal sense, not the sexual one.

And it was glorious. I hadn’t thought I could feel such joy over something so simple. For so long, I’d wished we could have more time together, that I could just drink her in and not be pressured by everything conspiring against us. Here it was.

It was also a little torturous at times. It made yesterday’s travel tension seem downright easy. Even in a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants, she was agonizingly sexy. As she lay wrapped in my arms, sleeping with her head against my chest, I found myself thinking a lot about the thin fabric of her shirt and how there was nothing on underneath it. I thought a lot about what it’d be like to remove those clothes. I thought a lot about what I’d do after that. I loved her for her beautiful soul and desired her for her beautiful body. There was nothing sordid about it. It was nature.

As a result, sleep didn’t come easy for me. My earlier nap probably didn’t help matters. When I wasn’t fantasizing about Sydney, my mind wandered to our mission here and the potentially crackpot idea of using Olive’s blood to make an Alchemist-like tattoo for Neil. Everyone was looking to Sydney and me to pull it off. I was pretty sure the spirit-infused blood wouldn’t hurt Neil, so, much like Sydney’s own experimental tattoo, there’d probably be no harm done in trying. After all, we were out of options for the blood. It was as good an idea as any and really didn’t bother me.

What did bother me was my rapidly decreasing grasp of spirit. When Sonya had asked me about sensing what was in the vial, I’d had to lie. She was one of the best spirit users at reading truth but had thankfully been too distracted to notice. Because the thing was, I hadn’t been able to read anything off of it. I knew there had to be spirit in the blood, based on her and Lissa’s observations, but I could no longer sense it. I could no longer see auras either, and although I’d made no healing attempts, I could guess those results too.

Jill’s revelation about the bond had been a slap in the face. Spirit’s disappearance had always hovered as a real possibility, but I’d never thought too much about the consequences with her. She’d explained that although she still sensed we were connected, it felt as though there was a curtain between us that blocked my mind coming through to her. That wasn’t exactly a bad thing. It meant my life was private again and that she would be protected from any of spirit’s darkness seeping into her.

And I couldn’t deny the most obvious truth: I now appeared to be protected from spirit too. I felt . . . good. My world was calm. I didn’t have that frantic need to paint a whole gallery in one night, but I was still full of ideas, ideas that I could actually develop because my focus was stronger. Brooding about Pink Floyd didn’t lead to outright depression. My love for Sydney burned just as strongly.

Life was good.

Waking up with her drove that home. I’d finally fallen asleep but came to when I felt her stirring. We’d both changed positions throughout the night but had never lost our hold on each other. With her sleepy eyes and tousled hair, I was pretty sure she’d never been more adorable. I leaned in to kiss her, and she turned her face away.

“I need to brush my teeth,” she grumbled.

“Practical as soon as you wake up. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“That’s just common sense.” She rolled to her side, and I pressed up to her back, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“You want to get breakfast?” I asked.

“We can’t go out together. It’s going to be bad enough if someone sees you leaving my room.”

I glanced at a clock. “Nah. They’re all going to bed right around now.”

“Then how are we going to get breakfast?”

“There are a couple of twenty-four-hour places since there are always some people coming in and out from human schedules.” I kissed her neck. “I’ll lift your coffee restriction since this is a special occasion.”

“Hey, I’m sticking to my word.”

“We’ll see what you say if it’s a late Moroi work night.”

She was quiet for several moments. “You haven’t had a drop of alcohol in a while, have you? Not even your daily one.”

“Easier that way. No point dancing on the line.”

Her response was simple and perfect: “I love you.”

She eventually sent me on my way so that we could both get ready on our own, despite my well-thought-out argument for why sharing a shower would be effective. I kept my shower uncharacteristically brief so that I could run over to the building next door for a quick visit with the feeders. Sydney and I met up a half hour later in the lobby of guest housing, just like any proper Moroi and Alchemist would do. The guy working the desk didn’t pay much attention to us, but we still put on an Oscar-worthy show of formal greetings and safe distance.

Outside, the watery sunlight did little to warm the winter morning. Sydney looked snug and cute in her furry coat, and I cursed the idiocy that had driven me to wear my thin one. No way would I complain, though. I had to stand by my fashion choice.

The grounds were as deserted as I expected, the only people out being occasional guardians still on diligent patrol, despite the wards that protected Court from Strigoi. Of course, these days, with people still opposed to Lissa’s rule, we faced as much danger from our own kind. One of the restaurants I remembered was still in business, and Sydney chuckled as we entered.

“Incredible,” she said. “There’s a whole civilization tucked inside these buildings.”

“Yup. This, and a whole lot more. A club, a spa, a bowling alley. Not that I’m stupid enough to take you to that last one.” Sydney seemed to be ridiculously good at most sports. It wasn’t even because of any special athletic powers. Half the time, she just used logic and mathematical calculations to size up her moves.

The restaurant was actually more of a diner. We ordered at the counter and then relaxed at a table with coffee while the cook made our food. Both of us were still a little tired, and I was again struck by how much I loved this normality.

“Someday, Sage,” I told her. “Every morning in our apartment in Rome. Us in bed, breakfast together . . . I don’t know how we’ll make it work, but we will.”

She turned from where she’d been examining the menu on the wall and smiled. “Rome, huh? Which escape plan is this?”

“Number one,” I said promptly, knowing that Rome was a dream of hers.

Her smile grew. “Are you going to learn Italian?”

“Don’t need to. I can communicate with my eyes.”

“You’ll have to learn the numbers at least, so you can haggle with people when you sell your art on the street,” she teased.

I put my hand over my heart. “You wound me, Sage. In this fantasy, I give you credit for attending some top university, but you put me on the streets.”

“Hey, we all have to start somewhere. I start with classes. You start on the street. Eventually, I get my doctorate and you’re doing world-famous gallery shows.”

I nodded, mollified. “Okay, I can roll with that. And then after that, I suppose it’s just a matter of time until we’re taking the kids to soccer practice.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Kids?”

“Relax, it’s years away. But can you imagine? Your brains, my charm, our collective good looks . . . then add in the usual physical abilities dhampirs get.” She looked more amused than appalled at the speculation, which was something I’d never thought I’d see. “It’s really not even fair to everyone else. Good thing you’re on birth control, since the world obviously isn’t ready for our perfect offspring.”

“Obviously,” she laughed.

Our gazes locked, and as usual, my mind jumped from birth control to the inevitable. This trip could be it, I realized. There was no Jill, and last night had proven we could have plenty of time together. From the way she went still as we stared at each other, I knew she was thinking exactly the same thing. Was she ready yet? That was still the big question, the one I’d wait on forever, if need be. It’d just be a lot easier waiting if she didn’t obviously want it so badly too.

“Holy shit! Ivashkov, is that you?”

A jarring voice startled me out of my daze. My stomach sank. Slowly, putting on that damned smile everyone expected from me, I turned toward the diner’s entrance. There he was, Wesley Drozdov, one of the most obnoxious people I knew. Worse, he had a couple other royal assholes in tow: Lars Zeklos and Brent Badica.

They used to be my drinking buddies.

They were obviously drunk now, judging from the way they staggered over to our table. The overpowering reek of alcohol radiating from them was another tip-off. Wesley slapped me on the back, making my teeth rattle.

“When did you get back?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Just got back last night. Barely enough time,” I said.

“Are you kidding? You could’ve gone out with us! We’ve been partying for, like . . .” Brent turned to the others, probably because the math was too hard. “Six hours. This new club just opened, and then Monique Szelsky threw this crazy party we just closed out. Time for some power food now, and then we’re going to crash.”