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 followed 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 all four of the visiting princesses were there. Twice as interesting. One, Monstrea usually mated only with other Monstrea, and two, King Greer was especially 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 After Vasili showed the king to the door, the man had grudgingly withdrawn his ultimatum.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 still 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 still seeing your Rose." Wouldn't do if one of the princesses overheard. They were currently walking to the dance floor, all four of them, though each continually cast hopeful glances his way.
Peace he would give. Marriage, no.
"Yes. I'm still 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 accidentally reveal the secret of her origins . . . Not just no, but hell, no. Change the subject. "Think Greer truly wishes peace with us?" Excellent. Bloodshed and mayhem. A much safer topic.
"Hardly. He's wily, always planning, and, as you know, his offer of alliance makes me uneasy."
Vasili sought the man in question. He stood at the back of the ball 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 continually in," Jasha went on. Then he sighed. "Perhaps you should take him up on his offer and wed one of his daughters. Perhaps that will finally mellow 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, well, he didn't want Rose in danger when she visited—and eventually 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 c**k 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 killher rather than convince her to move here with him. Finally 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 all he could think was, She's here. At least she wore clothes similar to what his people usually wore. Black shirt, black pants. Though right now his followers were dressed in gowns and formal attire.
Still. His woman was lovely. The loveliest in the room. And she was here.
"Brother?" Jasha said. "Everything all right?"
"Better than all 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 hallway, away from the crowd. Such small 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 c**k 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 c**k filled 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 walls 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 spilled, and victory awaited.
She should have been disgusted, not awed. That she wasn't . . . Damn it. He was proud of her.