Black Magic Rose (29 page)

She nodded and mumbled, “Okay.” Was this the best she could hope for?
 

Dr. MacDuff sighed and a tension seemed to drain from the room. His face was much more relaxed than before, eyes clearer, jaw no longer locked. His shoulders lowered an inch or two.
 

“I’ll take you to my quarters then speak to Dice,” Dragomir said. “I’ll only be gone a short while and you’ll be safest there.” His hand rested on Sofia’s shoulder.

She thought to argue, but Dr. MacDuff beat her to it.

“Dragomir, take your mate and care for her. Tonight we leave you to get acquainted. I’ll question Dice myself.”
 

Sofia’s eyes widened. Dragomir nodded. Osgar grinned and winked at her.
 

Oh God!

Chapter Twenty-six

Dragomir had known Sofia had it in her. She was, after all, his mate. She drank from him. His drive to fight flowed in her veins. It took two hours of gut-wrenching assaults to get her to unleash it, but he finally unlocked the power.
 

She was amazing, blocking his blows with the ability he’d only ever seen in other vampires, anticipating his attacks like a seasoned warrior, and finally coming at him like a born killer. She was a true vampire mate.
 

They stood at opposite ends of his gym. Her breath came fast and ragged. Her eyes narrowed as she tracked his every move.
 

Dragomir felt her studying him, noting every muscle twitch, every intake of his breath. She stepped to the side toward his swords.

Not so fast, lovely.
She was fast, but not vampire speed. He darted between her and the rack of weapons.
 

Her jaw clenched and a low growl escaped her.
 

He smiled.
 

She grabbed a nearby bo and came at him swinging the stick with the skill of a Japanese fighter.
 

Aimed for his head, the bo came down. Dragomir’s hand shot up. He caught the end of the weapon, twisted to the left to pry it from Sofia’s hands, and sent her flying twenty feet backward with a kick to her chest.
 

She slammed against a rack of bows and arrows, snarled and scrambled to her feet. Hunched across the room, her black hair hung in a mess past her shoulders and stuck to her glistening skin. Her green eyes were laser-sharp.
 

Interesting
.
 

Dragomir circled her, holding the bo.
 

She’d stripped off her sweatshirt after he’d used it to hang her from the wall. She’d earned that by refusing to fight. Her sweater came off when he’d pinned her to the wall with the silver throwing stars when she tried to argue her way out of training. Her aversion to violence seemed to be waning. Especially when she feared for her own life.
 

Now she wore a tight little gold top. How she wore so damn many layers to begin with was beyond him.
 

To her credit she’d managed to destroy his shirt. She’d ripped it down the center and trapped his arms at the elbows. Amazingly durable fibers had nothing to do with how she’d managed to contain him. It was the way she stared into his eyes and rubbed her heated breasts to his chest that distracted him long enough for her to take his legs out from under him and send him hurtling into the weight rack.
 

She was cunning. He’d give her that.
 

“What are you waiting for?” She turned in a crouch, keeping him in her sights.
 

“I’ll say I knew you were capable of some sort of defense. I just didn’t expect it to be battle worthy skill.” Dragomir lowered the bo. With a whoosh it smacked down only a hair away from her toe.
 

She didn’t flinch.
 

“I’ve always known what I could do, too.” She lunged but not for Dragomir. Instead she jumped at the bo. The force of her attack dragged him to the left. To keep hold of the weapon he allowed her to flip him backward.
 

They landed on the ground, Sofia straddling him, both holding the bo above his head.
 

“I’ve always wondered if you’d prefer the top.” He licked his lips and smiled.
 

She glared, released the bo, and brought her elbow down on his chest with such force ribs cracked.

Dragomir let go of the stick, shoved her off him, and rolled onto his side, coughing and cradling his chest. Pain radiated from the ribs above his heart. He spit blood onto the floor. His own rapid gurgling breaths sounded louder every time he inhaled. He coughed and blood sprayed the floor. One final wheeze, a shudder, and he fell silent.
 

“Dragomir!” Sofia grabbed his shoulder and pulled him onto his back. “Dragomir!” Her voice shot up several octaves. “Oh, my God.” She placed her hand on his chest.
 

His heart did not beat. He did not breathe.
 

“Oh my God. CPR. CPR. CPR. Oh my God.” She pressed her mouth to his and blew.
 

His chest rose and fell but he did not breathe.
 

“I broke his ribs. Do I still press on them? Do I just breathe?” She pressed her mouth to his again and blew with the same result.
 

She stood up and paced the floor. “I killed him. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Her hands went to her head. “I killed my mate. How do I explain this?”

He couldn’t resist any longer. With her back turned he moved, coming right behind her like a shadow. He jerked her body against his, and holding her wrists in one hand pinned to her waist, knotted her hair in his other hand. His mouth lowered to her neck.
 

“Did I not explain the only ways to kill a vampire?” His fangs scraped her skin.

Her heart thundered. Shallow breaths rattled from her. She barely nodded.
 

He licked her skin. Salty and sweet. She tasted as good as she smelled. “Tell me.”

“Decapitation. Staking the heart.” Her voice shook.
 

“What is the punishment for being caught?” His mouth sealed over her skin.

She leaned back into him and moaned. “Push-ups.”
 

His tongue swirled over her neck and her legs buckled. He grinned. “Hit the mat.” He held her until she’d regained her footing. When she was stable, he stepped back and pointed to the floor.
 

She dropped and began counting out loud with each rise.

“You must trust no one. Everyone is your enemy.” Dragomir’s voice rose over hers. “Two hundred. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. And you don’t have to count so loud. I’ll hear you just fine.”
 

He left her on the mat, swearing between numbers.
 

The sight of her on the floor, lowering and rising in perfectly even rhythm, was almost more than he could stand. He was punishing her for worrying she might have killed him but not actually accomplishing the task.
 

He grinned. She had worried about him.

When Sofia met him in the kitchen sweat dripped from her skin. He handed her a bottle of water. “You did well, but not well enough.”

“Obviously.” She sat on a stool at the counter and held her hair up off her neck. “I never wanted to do that.”
 

“Don’t lose sight of what I teach you. It may save your life someday.” Dragomir sipped his water.
 

“My dad sparred with me like that when I was young.” She drank her bottle of water then replaced the cap.
 

Dragomir held another bottle to her. “Would you like another?”
 

She shook her head. “I’m the reason he couldn’t do things when he got older. I broke his back when I was ten.” The plastic bottle crackled when she squeezed it. “I haven’t trained since.”

Dragomir felt his mate’s emotions, felt them like someone stabbed a knife into his side and twisted. Her eyes darkened and guilt riddled her face.
 

“He told me a girl needed to know how to fight.” She met Dragomir’s gaze. “‘Sofia, you need to be prepared, be able to defend yourself. You never know when you’ll need the skills.’” She imitated a male voice and shook her head. “If the poor guy ever knew how my life was turning out…”

He remained still for a moment. This was just one more detail he’d get cleared up for her.
Damn Jankin
.
 

“I’ve always known I was different. And until I met you, I’d been able to hide it even from Dr. MacDuff and Osgar. But not you.” She met his gaze. A cold hard stare full of angst and confusion, anger and disappointment bore into him. “You’ve just brought out the beast in me.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

“You got anything stronger?” Sofia tossed the empty bottle into the trash.
 

“Vodka, whiskey.”
 

“Either one.” She used her sweatshirt to wipe her face and neck.
 

“No preference?” Dragomir grabbed two short glasses from the cabinet.
 

“No. I never drink hard liquor straight, wouldn’t know which to choose.”
 

“Never?” He dipped his head and looked her up and down. “Not even a little rum?” A sly smile flickered on his lips.
 

She winced and dropped her sweatshirt on the stool at the end of the counter. “Well, no. I mean the other night was the first time. I’d never done that before. Clearly. I mean I never did what we did before either.”

He really was a terrible influence. She frowned at him. Handsome as the devil and equally as crafty. Now she was drinking, fighting, and screwing. Sort of screwing, anyway.
 

“You mean you’re a virgin?” Dragomir’s eyes bulged. He looked from her to the vodka and tossed back a shot then slammed the bottle on the counter.
 

She jumped. “No.” My God what did he want? A whore for a mate? Not that they were getting into bed anytime soon. But he didn’t have to sound so damn disappointed. “I don’t live in a bubble. I just meant I—”

“What did you mean?” He slid a glass of vodka to her, sloshing liquor on the counter. “How many? Is there someone now?” Dragomir’s cheek tensed.
 

 
Her mouth dropped open. “What? Now you think I’m a whore?”

Dragomir looked up to the ceiling then back to her. His dark blue eyes softened.
 

If her heart rate had dropped after their workout, she couldn’t tell. Her skin felt like it was burning.
 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” He wiped the counter then topped off her drink.
 

Sofia sipped her vodka and squeezed her eyes shut against the burn running down her throat.

“It’s straight from Russia. I brought it back on my last trip. Ten years ago now.” Dragomir sipped it, swishing a mouthful before swallowing. “Not bad,” he said, watching the alcohol swirl in his glass.

“You drink vodka?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Among other things.”

She looked at her drink, though kept her attention focused on her periphery, watching him.
 

Dragomir chuckled. “You’re far too nervous around me, Sofia.” He stepped back from the counter. “I won’t bite you. Not unless you’d like me to.”
 

The smile on his face made her shiver. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her shoulders. She wasn’t cold, but she knew her breasts were sending a message she didn’t want him to receive.

He grabbed the ice container from the freezer.
 

His feet were bare as was his chest. All he wore were his jeans. His hair was tied back allowing for an unobscured view of his chiseled face. Midnight blue eyes watched her above red lips, redder than hers.
 

“Do you eat food, too?” She pushed her hair behind her ear, and a blade of grass fell in her lap.

“Sometimes. I haven’t in many years, but I can, if that’s what you’re asking.” He leaned against the counter and plucked the blade from her leg, twirling it between his fingers. “We’ll have to get some groceries tomorrow. I’m afraid my cupboards are as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s.” He dropped the grass on the counter, bent over, and opened a couple cabinets. “Empty.”
 

“It’s okay. I can eat in the cafeteria upstairs.” She sipped her vodka and looked around the kitchen. There wasn’t one item on the walls. No shopping list on the fridge. No out-of-place mail stacked on the countertop.
 

“I know you can. But we should still have food in our quarters.”
 

Our quarters. The term sounded foreign to Sofia. First, she’d never considered her own home to be her quarters. Second,
our
? The idea of sharing was strange, yet exciting.
 

She glanced toward the living room and shifted on her chair. “Two.” She gulped a mouthful of vodka then opened her mouth and exhaled loudly.