I must see you again,” Dmitri said, his tone low and charged with emotion. He began to bend his head to my breast again, but I yanked up my La Perla bra straps and took a quick step back.
“No, the other part,” I said. “That’s what gets your rocks off about me—that I kill vamps?”
“Da.” He nodded, his eyes still lit with blue fire as he gazed at me. “You are not ordinary woman. You are brave, you are warrior, you are—”
“I’m a vamp,” I said flatly. “Or turning into one, at least. Since you’re so much in favor of staking them, I should be the last woman you’d be attracted to.”
“When time comes sister can perform Heal on you,” Dmitri asserted. “Will not interfere with our destiny, l’ubimaya. Is in your blood to kill vampyrs, just as is in mine. After we destroy Jasmine and her lieutenant we will look for others to wipe out. You and I will be perfectly matched team—both of us strong, both brave, both great fighters.”
“Well-matched, maybe,” I informed him, taking another step back. “Not a perfect match, though.”
He frowned. “I do not understand.”
I widened my eyes. “Well, if the two of us faced off, I doubt the fight would end in a draw. I mean, either you’d beat the crap out of me or I’d beat the crap out of you, right?”
The granite planes of his face relaxed into a faint smile. “We would never be on opposite sides, l’ubimaya. But if such impossible thing did happen, would not be fair fight. You are warrior princess, but I am big and strong man.”
“I guess you’re right, it wouldn’t be a fair fight,” I said, batting my baby blues at him. “Unless you even up the odds with a stake or some holy water, a contest between a vamp and a big Russian lug never is, but I’m still kind of eager to see how badly I can kick your ass, Dmitri.”
Even as his ice-blue gaze narrowed in sudden comprehension, I hauled off and socked him a good one on the side of his chiseled jaw.
Chapter 5
“Fuck!” Dmitri swore as he rocked back on his heels from my blow. I spared a split-second to note that he seemed to have at least one English word down pat before I pivoted sideways on the balls of my feet and slammed my elbow into his solar plexus. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
From the jarring impact I felt in my elbow he’d obviously had time to tighten his abs to steel-plate rigidity, but I could tell from the hiss in his tone that I’d knocked the air out of him. He lunged for me. “If it was something I said, let’s talk, but—” A shutter slammed down behind his eyes. As I dodged out of his reach he went on swiftly, “But this is complete bezumnyj! I do not even know what I have done to anger you. Did I misunderstand? Did you not want me to make l’ubov to you?”
“Oh, I wanted you to make loo-bov to me, all right,” I said tersely, bringing one leg in close to my body and then kicking it explosively toward him in a nifty maneuver I’d learned during the Unarmed Combat 101 classes Darkheart had put Megan and Kat and me through when he’d been teaching us to fight vamps. Sometime in the past few seconds I’d slipped out of my strappy Gina sandals, which was just as well for Dmitri because their wicked stilettos would have turned him into a man-size block of Swiss cheese within minutes. As it was, having my bare foot crash into his ribs like a piledriver merely sent him sprawling to the floor. “But let’s not talk about that right now. Tell me, comrade, what happened to the borscht-and-black bread accent a minute ago?”
While I was posing my question I reached down, intending to pull him up so I could take another punch at him, but this time he was ready for me. Bounding quickly to his feet, Dmitri struck my blow aside with one big hand. “I do not understand what you mean,” he said, scowling. “Natashya, this is total ridiculous and I will not fight you. Why are you doing this?”
“Good question,” I said, feinting a sudden movement to his left. He reacted as I’d hoped. As he stepped quickly to his right I brought my clasped fists up under the point of his chin. His head snapped back, and for a moment I saw anger flash behind the fake bewilderment of his gaze.
And he was faking—I knew that as unquestioningly as I’d suddenly known a couple of minutes ago that he was my enemy and had gone into attack mode on him. There was a difference between those two pieces of knowledge, however. The first had come to me when he’d slipped up and dropped his “must kill Moose and Squirrel” way of talking for a fatal second while he’d still been off-balance from my unexpected punch, but I didn’t have a clue as to what had set off the sudden alarm bells in my head while he’d been kissing me.
All I knew was that I hadn’t been able to ignore them.
“Enough!” When my clasped fists had made contact with his chin Dmitri had staggered backward a couple of steps. Now he steadied himself and his mouth drew into a grim line. “I have told you I will not fight you, l’ubimaya, but I cannot allow you to continue this foolish—”
“What does that mean, looby my-ah?” I interrupted. “No, don’t tell me, let me guess. Bitch?” My foot lashed out again, this time catching him squarely on the upper thigh. He inhaled sharply. “Is it another word for vampire? Or as you and Darkheart pronounce it, wampeer?” I said sarcastically. “Of course, you only say vampyr when you’re pretending to have trouble with the language, don’t you? Know what, handsome? I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you’re not even Russian.”
“Was born in Stalingrad, city of heroes,” Dmitri said stiffly. “Is insult you suggest this is lie, but I will forgive. L’ubimaya means sweetheart, and since this is how I feel for you I cannot let you continue doing things you will regret later. I am sorry, Natashya, but this is for own good.”
Why is it that when people tell you it’s for your own good, it always turns out to be something bad? I should have been expecting Dmitri’s sudden move but I wasn’t, which kind of bothers me when I reflect that “Shit, why didn’t I see that coming?” is probably the last thought a lot of vamps have before they’re swept into the big dust bin in hell.
And even though his plan was to immobilize me, not dust me, when the wild garlic lasso dropped over my head and shoulders and cinched tight around my upper body, pinning my arms to my sides, I still would have been in deep doo-doo…if it had worked.
“Nausea you feel is regrettable but unavoidable,” Dmitri said as he began walking toward me, reeling in the slack end of the garlic garland like a cowboy walking toward a roped steer. “In moment you will lose consciousness, so will not be so bad for you. Then I will call Darkheart and he will decide if is time to attempt Heal.”
“Is that Plan A?” I asked curiously. “Because if the whole thing hinges on the me-feeling-nauseous-and-blacking-out part, you’d better hope you have a Plan B, comrade.”
“What do you—”
I didn’t let him finish. Even as he took his next step toward me I grabbed hold of the woven strands of garlic that bound me and ripped them apart. Dmitri froze and his gaze met mine.
“It’s not possible,” he said tonelessly. “You’re a vamp, or near enough. Garlic’s your fucking kryptonite.”
“I know.” Deliberately I took a half step toward him and saw wariness flicker across his hard features.
