Never mind. Don't tell me. Just tell me how you were going to manage a new marriage if you weren't going to off me. I seem to recall you telling me death was the only way out of the first one."
"And that's still true, baby, but here are the facts. I can't think when I'm with you. I'm reduced to two words. Mine and more. And I don't call you darling anymore because—" He pressed his lips together. Do it. Tell her. But he'd never said the words before. Never thought them before.
"Because I don't want to call you what I call everyone else. You're special." She meant something to him.
Her features softened, those silver eyes going liquid. "Really?"
"Yes." He closed the distance between them and cupped her jaw. So soft, so delicate. "And I never would have abandoned you. I was going to toss the princess in a palace far from here, let her call herself my wife, and shack up with you." War averted, body and mind satisfied. "But now I don't have to. Now we can be together." In secret, he thought with a frown.
He didn't want to hide her, though. But he would. To keep her safe, he would do anything.
Rather than softening her further, his admission left her sputtering. She jerked from his clasp and backed away, his hands already mourning the loss of her. "How sweet of you. And how about this? I'll go find another man, let him live in my apartment, let him tell everyone he's my husband, and then I'll return to you."
Oh, hell, no. He got in her face, breath suddenly like fire in his nose. "Touch another man, call another man anything, and I will find a way to enter your dimension and murder him in front of you."
"I'll take that as a 'Do whatever you want, Rose.' " She pushed him, hard, and he stumbled backward. "To get here, all I had to do was think about you. To go home, I figure all I have to do is think about my apartment. Right?"
"You're staying right here." He lunged.
She waved her fingers, smiled too sweetly and—
Disappeared.
He flew through air, just missing her. "No. Rose!" Righting himself, he swung left and right, searching for her, any sign of her, his heart pounding against his ribs, that heated breath still sawing in and out. There wasn't a single trace of her.
"You little witch!"
She'd gone home. well, this was her home now, and it was time she learned and accepted.
She'll be back, he told himself. One week, and she would be back. She wouldn't be able to stop herself.
He almost rubbed his hands together as his blood flamed yet another degree. He did laugh.
This, he realized, was just foreplay for him. Like the threats and the name-calling were foreplay for her. Every time she left, he only wanted her more.
Oh, how he enjoyed her.
Oh, how he would have her. In every way imaginable.
One week, he thought again. He had some planning to do.
Chapter Seven
Maybe she'd overreacted, Rose thought the next day as she cocooned herself in the cold sheets of her bed. Alone. Aching. As if the fire Vasili ignited had never been doused. Had she stayed with him, she could have woken up in his arms. They could have made love. Down and dirty, nothing taboo. She was more certain than ever that he wouldn't allow insecurities or hesitation on her part.
He would demand everything. And she would give it. Willingly. Eagerly.
But he'd thought about making another woman his "wife" and she'd felt as if he had just punched her in the stomach. Her fury and her jealousy had raged out of control. She couldn't stand the thought of him with someone else, even for appearances. Even to save his people and his land.
Selfish hussy.
She wished she had a girlfriend to talk to about him, but over the years she'd cut everyone from her life. Or they had run from her. She worked, she trained, she thought about Vasili, and that was it. Which was his fault, damn it! After that first visit to his world, she'd begun to pull herself out of this one. She knew that now. As if she'd known she no longer belonged here. As if she belonged with him.
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." Because 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 killthem. 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 killthem? 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.