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The Promise of the Moroi	By : TarnishedArmour Category: S through Z > Vampire Academy Views: 3208 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own or have rights to Vampire Acad., characters, etc. and I make no profit from this story; VA belongs to R. Mead & the publisher. You know that, I know that, the rock over there knows it, fish in the sea and birds in th

Chapter List
- 1-Hurry
- 2-Revelations
- 3-Then.
- 4-Now.
- 5-Then.
- 6-Now.
- 7-Returned
- 1
- 2
WARNINGS (TAGS): Ran out of room in the summary box & couldn't include these. So...here are the warnings. List is COMPREHENSIVE & should be assumed to be graphic. 3Plus, Anal, AFFO, BDSM, Bigotry, B-Mod, BP, Contro, D/s, DP, Exhib, Fingering, HJ, Humil, MBP, M/F, MiCD, Minor2, OC (plural), Oral, Other (just in case...), Preg, RapeFic, S&M, Spank, Tort, Violence, Voy, WIP, XV, Xeno (if vampires can be considered more alien than beast, and if not, add Beast to the list).

A/N: The list of warnings is comprehensive, mostly because I have no idea what-all will happen, but the starting point suggests (okay, jumps up and down shrieking) anything goes. With that in mind, I won't warn about specific chapters, so...caveat lector.
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“Dimitri?” the voice on the telephone line was an old, familiar one, and he was certain his Roza would not welcome the interruption of their rest together, rare as it was. Lissa--the Queen, he mentally chastised himself--was safe in her rooms, with her beloved Christian. Roza and he had enjoyed one another quite thoroughly before falling asleep with the dawn. Only to be rudely awakened by his cell less than an hour later.
“Svetlana?” he placed the voice finally, working not to resent the woman who he had known since his 18^th year and her wedding to a Moroi he had once considered a close friend.
“It’s Sergei. I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s something strange…and he’s just not himself. Please…please, can you come?” The voice was softly desperate, the kind of need he could not simply ignore or send another to alleviate matters. Or send another to her. Or Sergei.
“Where are you?” His voice was calm, soothing, and just loud enough to wake Rose. She looked up at him, eyes tired but narrowed. She knew something wasn’t right, and he had only recently returned from working with Sonya Karp and Adrian Ivashkov in Arizona, the fifth such trip in the past eighteen months. Too much time away form his Roza…not that duty cared.
“At our cabin in Wyoming.” Of course this would require a flight. There is no possible way to move from Court in Pennsylvania to rural--is there any other kind?--Wyoming quickly except for flying. Of course, technically, this Moroi was not his duty, not the one to whom he had sworn protection.
“Are you in danger?” he asked, the Strigoi threat never far from his mind. “Are your guardians not there?”
“No. We returned them to the Queen--she needed their particular talents. We are far enough away from everything here…our wards are solid…but…”
“What is it?” he asked, then repeated it softly when she did not answer.
“The dread. It comes,’ her English faded as she lapsed into Russian, her husband’s language, and the one which came to her now in the most intimate times. Fear was more intimate that most other emotions, something Dimitri had learned well over his years as a Guardian. “Always coming closer, the evil and pain. It is not here. Not yet. But soon.”
Dimitri frowned, mind now tripping quickly thanks to an adrenaline rush. The dread, that was how she referred to the feeling of Strigoi years ago, talking about the dread of Earth rejecting them. Something like that. It was important enough that he remembered it now.
“I will be there as soon as I can.’ A promise he could not pretend he had not made haunted him now.
A muffled sound, much like a sob, choked off into the silence. “Hurry,” came the whispered plea.
Dimitri ended the call as he stood, looking for his pants. Where had his impassioned Roza thrown them? He found them in a pile by the dresser--no, he could not wear these. She had torn the zipper in her eagerness. Or had he torn them in his? It did not matter. He would need to replace much of his clothing, if his Roza had her way. She usually did. Another pair, then. A shirt. His duster. Weapons.
“Tell me,” Rose demanded, watching him all this time. She was sitting up now, awake and indifferent to her nakedness as her nipples hardened in the cool morning air. She was a vision, and he wanted to stay, to worship at her altar. What was that horrible pun she had told him over the telephone while he was in Arizona? In their private moments, it had seemed a delicious promise, but after the reality of her, it was simply a horrid pun. Her body was a church? No, a temple, and he was expected at services twice daily. If he could choose--if duty allowed--he would spend his waking hours in those services. Such was not to be.
“An old…” Did the word apply? Could it? Yes, in this instance, it was as good as any other. “…friend. She is worried. It is not something easily explained.” She would be less inclined to let him go if he did explain, and even he was unsure of all that had transpired between them so long ago, only that the bond between them was strong, even though it had been quiescent until now.
“Try.” Dimitri didn’t wince, but he wanted to. When his Roza’s voice turned flat and hard, he knew she was anticipating violence, even against him. She was certainly capable of it. He shoved the memories of his days as Strigoi behind him and searched for the words. His Roza had every right to demand an explanation regarding a woman’s voice on the phone, and one he called friend. His last old friend had nearly tried to ear them apart, to destroy everything they safeguarded while simultaneously pushing their agenda along. She had been an old friend.
“I was the witness at their union--Svetlana and Sergei Szelsky--” he saw her wince at the unfortunate alliteration of their names, “--and they have returned their guardians to the Court, for Lissa. They support her,” he knew they would not change their opinion of helpless Moroi, “and want to see Moroi and Damphir fighting together against the evils of this world. We spoke long about it while we were in Russia…” his eyes were distant, soft with memory, and a smile teased his lips. Those were good times, before Ivan died. His smile faded. Before his first, though not greatest, failure. “I must go.”
Rose frowned. “Their guardians can be returned…” She stopped speaking as Dimitri shook his head, walked over to her, and placed one finger over her lips.
“I know I am not sworn to them, not one among their guardians,” he said, his accent heavier with the memories and his gentlest voice. She hated that voice with a passion. It always carried bad news. “But we swore to honor the bond of Moroi royals and their damphir witness--later, Roza, I promise you.” Only the last three words had given him any reprieve. “Tell Lissa and Christian, and I will return as quickly as I can.” He paused, fingers rubbing an old scar on his palm. “It is a promise, our oath, signed in blood, and no less sacred than your promise to find me when I turned Strigoi.” He did not have to say more. Pain and regret flashed over her face, still so open to him, if not to the world.
“Not time for a proper send-off, then,” she replied, letting the argument go and lightening the moment with her wildly inappropriate comment. Inappropriate mostly because he could do nothing to assuage the desire that she brought forth from him. “This’ll just have to hold you.” She slipped out of bed and moved into his arms, her bare body pressed against his clothed one, pulling him down for the kind of kiss that left him breathless and hard and ready to take her in more ways than she could imagine, even after these months as his lover. And his Roza was very imaginative.
Dimitri groaned as she pulled away, but he did not let her slip from him just yet, eyes drinking in her body. “What you do to me, Roza,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers as he tried to catch his breath. His hands returned to her body, skimming over some of his favorite points and making her shiver with want.
“Go, or I’ll tie you up and keep you here,” she said, pushing him lightly enough to get him to step back, and still managing to skim one hand over the front of his jeans, smiling knowingly as her hand found proof of his desire for her. “And you know I will.”
Standing straight, Dimitri looked down at her and flashed her a wicked grin. “I know.” He followed that with the smile only she ever got to see anymore, the one that melted her every time. He put enough suggestion in both his voice and his smile to imply that she would enjoy it…and so would he. It would not surprise him in the least to find handcuffs waiting for him when he returned. Nor would he object to her using them…or returning the favor for her.
With that, he turned and walked out the door, calling the helipad on his cell and outright abusing his position as one of Lissa’s closest guardians. True, he was technically Christian Ozera’s guardian, but Christian would soon be Lissa’s consort, her legal husband. Christian was in Lissa’s aegis, which meant he was in Rose’s direct care. His Roza would take good care of them all, and this should not take long.
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“I hunger, beloved,” Sergei whispered, nuzzling at his wife’s neck. “My sweet Svetochka.”
Svetlana closed her eyes and tipped her head to the side, tears pooling and falling as her husband’s fangs slowly broke the skin of her neck, bringing her to a clinging, shivering need while the high of the bite rolled over her. Soon, she was against he wall, moaning as her husband teased her neck with his fangs and slid in an out of her, bringing her to an unbearable pleasure.
Dread held her, and she would never escape.
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The Promise of the Moroi