The Fiery Heart

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.”

It was then that they noticed I wasn’t alone. Lars straightened up and put on the pseudo-responsible look he’d try to pull off if his parents came home early while he was throwing a party. “Hello.” He held out his hand. “I’m Lars.”

Sydney hesitated before taking it, less from fear of Moroi than disdain for drunken idiots. “Sydney Sage.”

The others crowded to shake her hand, and I knew that the icy “I’m tolerating you” Alchemist smile she sometimes faked when we were in public was completely real for them.

“I heard there might be humans here.” Brent peered at her cheek. “You’re one of those? Those Alch—Alchemists?” The Alchemists actually weren’t widely known to all Moroi.

“That’s right,” she said coolly.

“She’s here on top secret business for the queen. Or something.” I laughed and leaned back in my chair. “I don’t know. They don’t tell me that kind of important stuff. They just asked me to be a tour guide. I think they’ll comp my food and drink, so hey, bonus.”

Wesley couldn’t take his eyes off Sydney. “We’re going out again after sunset. You want to come with us? Ivashkov’s not really showing you Moroi life unless you hit some parties. There are a couple good ones planned.”

Sydney was so stiff, she could’ve broken in half. “No thanks. I have to meet with the queen.”

“See?” I said. “I told you. These Alchemists are all business.”

Lars nudged me. “Well, I know you aren’t. Why don’t you come out with us? There’s some girls, man, that if they knew you were back, they’d—” He bit off his words and shot an apologetic look at Sydney.

Just then, the cook called out that our order was ready. Sydney stood up so quickly, her chair nearly fell over. “I’ll get it.” She strode off without another word or glance. All three of the guys stared after her, making no attempt to hide their lascivious looks. Sydney and I had experienced many things in our relationship, but this was the first time I’d ever felt such consuming hostility toward other guys. I wanted to punch them all.

“Goddamn,” said Wesley. “I never knew an ass could look so hot in khakis.”

“How the hell can you sit there so calmly?” Lars demanded of me.

I put my feet on an empty chair, clasping my hands behind my head. If they were restrained, maybe I wouldn’t try to choke anyone. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Lars shook his head. “God, we were just at the feeders, and there is nothing, nothing like that there. They’re like week-old leftovers compared with her. We never get anything that good.”

“Not a mark on her neck,” breathed Brent, eyes wide. “You know she’s never done it. Can you imagine what it’d be like, burying your teeth in that? Ambrosia, man. And you know she’d love it. Those prim and proper ones always do.”

I clenched my hands together so tightly that my nails practically pierced my skin. Even to jerks like these, sex with a human wasn’t a consideration. But drinking from one? A beautiful one who’d never been touched before? That was as mind-blowing as sex to them, driving them into a frenzy with lust of a different kind.

“Hose yourself down,” I laughed. “Do you even know anything about Alchemists? She can barely stand being in the same room as us. You’d never get near her neck.”

Wesley leaned toward me. “Get her to go out with us later! The queen can’t keep her all night.”

I was pretty sure the nails digging into my palms were drawing blood now. “Did you even hear what I said? She’s out of our league.”

Brent’s lips were parted, showing his fangs as he watched Sydney turn around with her tray. “Not if we go dabbling.”

“You’re still drunk, man.” I managed the painful smile but couldn’t laugh this time.

“It’d be easy,” he hissed. “Tell her you’re going to take her on some cultural experience. I can score something for her, and we can each get a turn. God, I’d love to see her face when—”

“No,” I said.

Lars scowled. “You’ve gone soft, Ivashkov. You never minded dabbling before.”

But Sydney had reached us by then, and the three of them at least had the sense to shut up. “It’s getting late,” I said. “You better get your food and rest up for later.”

They took the hint and wandered off laughing and whispering toward the counter, but not before telling me to get in touch if I changed my mind. I took a deep breath to steady myself and be interested in my French toast so that Sydney wouldn’t pick up on my mood.

“Sorry,” I said. “Friends from another time.”

“What’s dabbling?” she asked.

I winced. So. She’d heard that last part. She obviously hadn’t heard the rest, or she wouldn’t be nearly so calm. I had to choose my next words very carefully. If I gave her a total lie, there could be trouble if she ever found out the truth. And yet, I couldn’t answer with full honesty either, so I opted for something that skirted the truth.

“It’s stupid.” I rolled my eyes and munched on my side of bacon to buy me more time. “Jerks like that think it’s hilarious to try to recruit new humans as feeders. They take a human out and talk a bunch of crap to try to win them over.”

She actually dropped her fork. “Are you serious?” She glanced over her shoulder and studied them in disbelief. “They . . . they wanted to talk me into being a feeder?” She was so shocked at the idea of her being a feeder that she didn’t even think about the implications of them openly discussing vampires with outsiders. Feeders were usually recruited from the fringes of human society, often from those who were already addicted to something and had little promise in their lives. Living with the Moroi was an upgrade. Normal, active members of human society were never approached.

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I blew them off. They’re not going to try anything. They think you’re pretty—which is true—but they’re just a bunch of talk. They won’t even remember it when they sober up.”

Sydney still looked worried and tore her muffin into pieces without eating or speaking.

“I’m serious,” I said, wishing I could touch her hand. “They’re assholes. They’re nobodies. I’d never let them do anything like that.”

She eventually nodded and then gave me a smile of such warmth and trust that I wanted to die for my lie. “I know,” she said.

I swallowed and tried not to pay attention to where Wesley and his friends sat, still casting covert looks back at us. “Let’s hurry up and do some sightseeing. Best time to do it, with everyone in bed. Maybe, maybe, we should look for another coat for me.”

As I hoped, the satisfaction of being right perked her up. “I knew it! I knew you had to be freezing.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius, Sage. We’ll get the coat, bum around, and then maybe visit bed like everyone else for a while.”

Before long, those drunken idiots were a distant memory. We sneaked into my parents’ town house and found an old winter coat of mine. My dad was there, sound asleep, and never knew we came by. After that, I did my best to point out all the old architecture I thought she’d be into. I didn’t know any of the technicalities, but as I’d hoped, she did, and she loved it. We wrapped up back in her room afterward, cuddling in bed until our appointed meeting time. It was an amazing day.

Back at the palace, Lissa had arranged for a vast breakfast buffet for all of us. It was dinnertime for Sydney and me, but we didn’t mind the repeat, and she certainly didn’t mind the ready supply of decaf coffee. People chatted in clusters throughout the room as we ate, and Nina beckoned me over from the opposite side, where she stood with Neil and Olive. I smiled and mouthed “maybe later” to her.

Rose strolled over to us, carrying a plate with five donuts on it. Dhampir metabolism was nuts, and I could almost understand Sydney’s weird body hang-ups when she spent time around people who could eat so much and still keep decent figures.

“Did you have a good day?” Rose asked. “I assume you weren’t sleeping it away like the rest of us.”

Sydney laughed. “No. Neither was Adrian. He’s been converted to our Palm Springs schedule, so he took me around and showed me all the wonders of the Moroi Court.”

Rose shot me a pleased and proud look, like she could barely believe I’d do anything so thoughtful. “Well, good. Hopefully it’s another step in convincing you we aren’t all bloodthirsty minions of hell.”

Sydney started to laugh again and then grew pensive. “Well . . . not all of you.”

“What do you mean?” Rose asked, her words muffled in a chocolate donut.

“It’s nothing,” said Sydney. “Just some drunk guys we met who wanted to . . . what’d you say it was, Adrian? Dabbling?”

Rose nearly choked on her donut. “They did what?”

“They didn’t do anything,” I said carefully. An uneasy feeling spread over me, and I prayed we’d either abruptly change topic or that Lissa would start this operation.

“Who the hell would even suggest that?” I recognized that look on Rose’s face, the one that said her fist had an appointment with someone. “Tell me who they are.”

Sydney seemed touched by the concern. “It’s nothing, and Adrian’s right. They didn’t do anything. He scared them off. Besides, it’s not like they could’ve talked me into doing it.”

I was feeling ill. I glanced around the room. “Hey, where’s Honest Abe? Wasn’t he supposed to get Sydney’s goods?”

Rose didn’t even hear me. Her gaze was fixed firmly on Sydney. “Do you know what dabbling is?”

“Yeah,” said Sydney uncertainly. “It’s when they try to convince you to be a feeder.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘convince’ is the right word,” growled Rose. “It’s when Moroi go out and drug a random human so that they can drink from him or her. Usually her, since it’s usually guys behind it. The human’s kind of out of it from the drug and doesn’t remember anything later, just that they somehow ended up with bruises on their neck. It’s essentially date rape for blood drinking.”

Sydney looked so pale, she could’ve been one of the Moroi. “What . . .”

Rose seemed to realize just how traumatizing that might be to an Alchemist and tried to backpedal. “It doesn’t happen very often,” she said quickly. “And it’d never happen here—especially if you’ve got Adrian as your noble defender. And me.”

Sydney couldn’t formulate a response.

Someone called for Rose, and she bit her lip, glancing worriedly between Sydney and me. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t freak out. There’s nothing to worry about.” She gently touched Sydney’s arm. Sydney flinched and pulled back. Rose heard her name again and glanced up at me. “Talk to her. I’ll be back.”

She scurried away, and I took a step closer to Sydney, who thankfully didn’t jerk away. “She’s right, it’s—”

Sydney’s eyes sharpened. “Why did you lie to me?”

I pointed at her. “Exactly because of this. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You shouldn’t have sugarcoated it,” she said. “I’m tough enough to handle it.”

“I know you are,” I said softly. “I’m just not tough enough to tell you ugly things. I figured the point was the same: It’s a bunch of bastards taking advantage of someone.”

She nodded, and I held my breath, hoping we were done with this. Then, that cursed memory of hers came into play. “One of them said you used to not mind. Did you go along with it?” Her breath suddenly caught. “Did you ever do it?”

The world swayed around me. I wished to God I had my spirit back so that I could compel her into discussing The Great Gatsby. Instead, I manned up and answered as concisely as I could: “Sort of.”