Wait. He'd said only Walkers could travel between the worlds. But maybe there were Walkers in his world, too.

"No." Nick shook his head. "Many have tried to bring one over, you know, to prove there's another side, but the bodies disintegrate every time. Dead or alive, no one from here or there can be taken from one world and placed in another unless they're a Walker."

Wow. She felt no pain when she traveled. Just blinked, and boom, she was in another time and place. Yet others burned to death? Just . . . wow. "Can any of us go there on our own? You know, without it being our birthday?" She could, but what about the others?

"No, and thank God for that." Again, he frowned. "Why ask? Tell me you don't want to spend more time there."

"Of course I don't," she rushed out. A lie, and one she didn't feel guilty for telling. She didn't need him trying to talk her out of returning. Or rallying others of their kind to do so—forcefully. But why could she travel at will and no one else? Because she was "bonded" to Vasili?

"So why all the questions, Rose?" Nick asked.

"My birthday's approaching, and I'm just trying to figure things out, that's all." Good, that's good.

Keep it casual. "So . . . when do you go back?"

"Next month." Bitterness laced his tone. "August eighth."

She made a mental note.

"I've always dreaded going back, but now . . ." He shuddered, the action making several strands of hair dance over his forehead. "In the last year, several Walkers have failed to return. Did you know that?"

"No. How do you? Hardly anyone shares their name." Too afraid of being labeled a crazy, as she well knew.

"The day before their birthdays was the last time they posted online."

Yes. Telling. Or maybe not. "What if they just decided to stay?" Could they stay, though? Maybe she was the only one who could stay for extended periods of time, just like she was the only one who could travel at will.

Nick snorted. "Who would want to live in constant darkness?"

If you were in bed with a sexy man who had his hands and mouth all over you, there was a definite appeal to all that darkness. "Have you ever met a man named . . ." She hesitated, as if saying his name were a betrayal to him. But she had to know. "Vasili?"

"Met? No." A hard glint darkened Nick's eyes. "But heard of, yes."

"Tell me!" Did she sound too eager? Look too eager? She was leaning forward, hands wringing together.

Clearly. Nick regarded her strangely as he pushed aside his cup and drummed his fingers against the tabletop. "He's the king of the Northern Realm. Have you met him?"

"Well, uh, I . . ."

He took her stuttering as a yes. "Can you get close to him? Kill him?"

"No! " And anyone else who tried would feel the sting of her wrath. Sadly, that "anyone" might be Nick. At the moment, he glowed with determination.

But if she had to choose between them, she would choose Vasili. Always.

"Too bad. See, from what I've been able to piece together, I know there are four realms. North, South, East, and West. A different king rules each. The North and East are at war, and the South and West are allies who refuse to take part."

Vasili, at war. With Greer. But that war had been averted, since Jasha was marrying one of Greer's daughters. She mentioned none of that, though. She wouldn't aid Nick's cause with information.

"If we could killVasili," he continued, "one of those realms would fall and that's one less to worry about."

Now her eyes narrowed, and she knew the hard glint he'd had earlier was suddenly mirrored in hers. "That would make you a murderer, Nick." And me, as well, since my first reaction will be revenge. "You don't want to go there. Believe me."

"Well, I'm sick of the birthday curse," he burst out. "Sick of dreading the darkness and the rain, the monsters and their chase. They always scent me out immediately, and I always spend the entire twelve hours I'm forced to stay there running for my life."

"I'm sorry." And she was. But she still would not accept his intentions.

A sandy brow arched. "That hasn't been your experience, has it?"

"No," she admitted. "They aren't so bad."

"They're monsters, Rose."

"Yes, but they've never hurt me." Sure, Vasili had threatened—she shivered, still uncertain why the thought of Vasili's naughtiness thrilled her so much—but he'd helped her instead.

Nick scrubbed a hand down his face. "Look, there are others like me. Tired and craving an end.

We want those things dead."

"What are you planning?" she whispered, gripping the edge of the table.

He shrugged. "We've been talking about it, trying to plan. But that's hard to do when no one trusts anyone else, so nothing's been solidified yet. I've got an idea, though. One that might bring us all together."

Oh . . . shit. Another reason to visit Vasili. To warn him.

The next day, Rose shimmied into a lacy ice-blue dress and matching heels. Vasili had never seen her in anything but pants, and at the ball, as all the women had danced around her in those velvet gowns, she'd felt drab. She'd wanted to show Vasili that she, too, could look pretty.

After doing her makeup and hair, she packed a bag. All her toiletries, lots of lingerie, a few more dresses, and some pants and tees. She'd stay all seven days, no more, no less. No matter how much he pissed her off. Then, if things worked out as she hoped, she'd return here, say good-bye to her parents, find out if Nick and the other Walkers had "solidified" anything yet, gather the rest of her things, and finally shack up with Vasili for good.

If he was on board, of course.

He'd better be on board. Rose strapped her blades onto her wrists and thighs. She recalled the weapons Vasili had worn last night, and shivered. Sexy. She'd wanted to eat him up. Now you can. She grinned as she checked her .45, threw a couple clips in her bag, and tried to anchor the gun to her waist—oops, no room. The blades took up too much space under her dress.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, keeping the gun in hand, safety on. She wouldn't use it on Vasili, of course. Unless he pissed her off. Better to shoot him than to leave before her time ended. And the monsters she'd seen last time had looked so civilized, she doubted she'd have to use it on them. Besides, they hadn't attacked her, and hadn't acted as if they even wanted to attack her. For the most part, they'd kept their eyes averted. They'd even danced with the humans, those claws gentle on their partners and not drawing a single bead of blood.

Vasili clearly liked them, and they clearly respected him. So Rose planned to make an effort to befriend them, too. That didn't mean she'd head into that palace defenseless, though. Last time, she'd meant to stay only a few minutes, so she hadn't armed herself quite so fiercely. Plus, if another Walker showed up looking for trouble, she would be able to deliver.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, the white walls of her bedroom fading away. For a moment, she remembered Vasili's bedroom. The difference between hers and his. Hers, plain.

His, decadent. Hers, small. His, unbelievably spacious. Hers, dowdy. His, a rainbow of colors, textures, and patterns. Murals painted along the walls, murals of the sun and flowers and battles.

Marble floors veined with gold. Alabaster columns, windows of sparkling crystal. Dark velvets and—Her mind locked on that thought. She would wrap Vasili in that velvet, then unwrap him, one inch at a time, kissing every piece of skin she bared.

His eyes would be heavy lidded, his lips parted, his expression strained.

Perfect. She repeated her vow to him, and her feet lost their anchor. For a moment, she was weightless, a little dizzy, and then all was well. Except for the sudden blast of noise and the shower of pounding rain. Her eyelids popped open, and she gasped in horror.

The dark of night, just like that first time, and hammering rain. Somehow torches were lit and remained so, illuminating a battle scene of violence and fury, far worse than anything that had been painted on the walls. Swords arced. Blood sprayed. Mud splattered as bodies fell. Monsters, so many monsters. Eyes red, glowing. Teeth bared, chomping. Men flailed, grunted.

A tremor slid down her spine. Where was Vasili?

Had the Walkers already attacked? Had Greer betrayed him?

Her wild gaze scanned, searching . . . searching . . . so many bodies, so many injured. . . .

There! He held a sword, swinging the long blade, connecting with a human. That human hunched over and Vasili kicked him, sending the man reeling backward. He didn't get up.

She wanted to shout Vasili's name, but knew she would distract him. As every single one of her instructors had told her, distraction could killyou faster than an opponent. She looked around. She was a few yards from the action, and hadn't been noticed yet, hidden by shadows as she was.

She would have joined the fray, anything to protect Vasili, but she didn't know who was on his side and who wasn't.

What should she do?

Calm, steady. She couldn't leave. Or rather, she wouldn't. She would not be able to live with herself if something happened to him and she hadn't been here to save him. So she dropped her bag and slinked farther into the shadows, inching closer to him. When she was but a few feet away, she crouched, wiped the frigid water from her face, and looked him over. He was cut, bleeding. Mud was splattered all over him.

Two humans launched themselves at him, and her breath caught in her throat. His swords whizzed through the air, slicing through the one in front and the one behind at the same time. Yet he didn't see the third man running toward him, blade raised high, descending....

Rose aimed and fired, no hesitation. Kill shot. The man grunted and fell. Vasili must have heard the boom because he whipped around, searching the dark. When he spotted her, he snarled.

"Go home!"

"After I rescue my damsel in distress," she called.