Welcome to my first fan fiction. This is actually a story I started about 20 years ago (yes, this will date me). I've read most of the VA fan fiction on this site and was inspired to try my hand after reading some great stories. I would love to get feedback. Please keep it polite and constructive. I work two jobs, six days a week, but I will do my best to update weekly.

DISCLAIMER: I own only the story line, Richelle Mead owns everything else.

Chapter 1: Introductions

Orange, red, and yellow hues sizzled across the horizon, waves gently rolling onto the shore. The water caressed her bare feet, and with each wave, they seemed to sink further and further into the sand. She rhythmically curled her toes into the moist ground as if trying to anchor herself. The slight breeze caught her long, dark hair, gently swirling it around her face. Shivering slightly from the chill in the air, Rose pulled her cashmere shawl tighter around her small frame.

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Rose let out a small sigh and walked toward the house. Slowly starting up the stairs leading to the deck, she couldn't help but glance mournfully back out to the water, wanting to catch one last glimpse of the setting sun. Reluctantly, Rose turned back, climbed the stairs. Rinsing off her sandy feet with the faucet, she quickly dried them off before walking into the small beach house.

Closing the door and locking it, Rose strode over and turned on the small table lamp in the living room, creating a halo of light around the small chair near the fireplace. She proceeded to add another log to the receding fire and stood, embracing the warmth. The daytime temperatures were unseasonably warm, yet once the sun set, the evenings brought on a distinct coolness. Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders once again, Rose made her way over to the small kitchen.

She began unpacking the groceries she had picked up at the local market, placing items in the fridge and cupboards. As she started to prepare the salad she was planning on having for dinner, she realized she had forgotten the dressing. Exhaling in frustration, she grabbed her purse and keys, slipped on her tennis shoes and made her way out to her car. It was less than a five-minute drive to the market, and luckily it was still open. Most businesses closed early during the off-season. Pulling into the front of the store, Rose hopped out and ran in, making her way quickly toward the condiments aisle. Grabbing the dressing, she walked up to the man standing behind the counter.

"Hey, Mikhail," she greeted the owner.

"You just made it, Rose," he replied. "Was just about to lock up for the night."

Rose smiled as she pulled out her wallet to pay for the item. "Can't believe I forgot this earlier. I appreciate you staying open."

Mikhail nodded, smiling in response. Rose had been staying at the beach house for nearly a month and had reconnected with Mikhail and his wife, Sonya. On beautiful days, Rose would ride her rental bike down to the market, buy bottled water and sit on the front porch, talking with the couple. The Tanners had lived here for nearly 20 years. Rose had met them years earlier when she would vacation with Lissa's family at the beach house. Rose and the Tanners would talk about how the long stretch of beach had changed over the years. Sometimes the Tanners would pull out old photographs, showing the transformation and growth that had occurred during their time there. While there were variations, much had remained the same. To keep the small, relaxed feel of the area ordinances had been created to prevent large businesses or homes from taking over the community. A visitor would never find a fast-food restaurant or Wal-Mart. The closest mall was thirty minutes away, which suited most residents.

About fifteen minutes later, as Mikhail was beginning to close the store, Rose waved goodbye and got back into her car. Pulling into the carport under the house, she grabbed her purchase and purse and walked up the stairs to the deck. As Rose entered the house, she immediately realized something wasn't right. The living room was shrouded in darkness. She distinctly remembered leaving on the light. As she walked into the kitchen to set her purchase on the counter, she halted, hearing a noise from the back of the house. It sounded as if it was coming from one of the bedrooms. She held her breath, waiting to see if she had been correct. Again, Rose heard shuffling and what sounded like drawers opening.

Fear sprang up in her stomach. She knew the smart thing would be to turn and run out of the house and call the police. However, very rarely in life did Rose ever pay attention to her 'gut,' as her father, Abe, used to say. Instead, Rose slowly crept toward the fireplace and lifted a good-sized log from the hearth, before slinking towards the back room. Gingerly, she inched closer to the door; her wooden deterrent raised over her shoulder.

Peering through the slightly ajar door, Rose was only able to make out a tall figure standing in front of the dresser across the room. The small bed-side lamp was on but didn't give off much light. Again, she realized at this point, it would have been better to turn, quickly leave the house and call the authorities. However, that isn't what she did. Instead, incensed that someone seemed to be looking through her things, possibly even trying to steal from her, Rose flew through the door. Closing her eyes, she swung the log at the intruder with all her might. She felt the wood make contact, then heard the man let out a cry of surprise and pain. Still wielding her weapon, Rose opened her eyes and watched as the man fell, ungracefully, to the floor with a loud 'thud.' He was lying face down between the bed and dresser, apparently immobile. As she crept closer, she looked to see if he was still breathing, afraid she might have mortally injured him. To her relief, his chest rose evenly with each breath.

Lowering her weapon, Rose gingerly nudged the intruder's leg, checking to see whether he was, in fact, conscious. Getting no response, she realized she needed to do one of two things. Of course, Rose being herself, chose the more reckless of the two options. Looking around the room, she found the landline phone and ripped the cord from the wall and the back of the phone. It was long enough that she could secure the would-be assailant's hands behind his back. After she had his hands secured, she tied the remaining length to the frame of the bed. At least this way she would feel a bit more secure until she decided what to do.

As Rose was tying the knot tighter, she heard a deep moan coming from her prisoner as he attempted to turn over. Jumping back, Rose rapidly retreated to the wall near the door. She watched as the man maneuvered onto his back. Once he turned over, Rose tried to get a better look at him, but she was unable to make out any distinguishing features in the dim light. His dark brown hair, which seemed to fall just past his chin, was hanging around his face, preventing her from seeing everything. She could, however, tell his eyes were open, and he was slowly looking around the room. Rose felt herself shiver as if chilled, as his eyes fixed upon hers.

Deciding to call upon a bravado she didn't feel, she said, "Now, don't try anything funny. I've called the police, and they are on their way." She hoped he would buy her story.

The man, still apparently out of it from the blow she had delivered, gently shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. "What happened?" he groaned, his voice thick with a slight accent.

Taking in what she could see, Rose had the sudden realization that this large, apparently well-built man could easily rend loose his bonds with little effort. Slowly, she reached down near the bed to retrieve her wooden deterrent. Raising it, so the intruder would know she was 'armed,' she spat out, "I'll hit you again if you try to get loose."

"Loose?" he questioned. It was as he finished saying the word that realization settled. Sitting up, he felt the cord wrapped around his wrists at his back and followed the cord to where it disappeared under the bed. Turning to Rose, he said, "Look, I don't know what you want or why you're doing this, but you're making a huge mistake."

"Yeah, right," she quipped. "You're just some poor lost soul who stopped by for a few souvenirs."

"I'm staying here," he said, weariness in his voice. "I rented this house yesterday from the rental agency. They said the house was vacant."

Rose scoffed, "You truly expect me to buy that?"

Angrily, he growled, "I don't care right now what you believe, but when the police get here, we'll see who gets arrested."

"For your information, this is my friend's home. I've been staying here for almost a month, so I would know if there was a renter," she spat.

Sighing, the man lowered his head, rolling his neck. "Just call the agency and ask them," he mumbled.

Realizing she had rendered the phone in the room useless, Rose contemplated going to the kitchen to grab her cell phone from her purse. Hoping he was still too out of it to try and escape, she took the chance and ran to the kitchen, fishing her phone from her bag.

Rose scrolled through her contacts and dialed the rental agency's number. Her friend, Lissa, used the agency to rent out her vacation home. The manager, Mia, was a good friend to both Rose and Lissa. Luckily, Mia was still at the office and answered almost immediately.

"Villa Vacations. How may I help you?" Mia said, in her upbeat, sales pitch voice.

"Mia, it's Rose. No time to chat. Did you rent Lissa's place out to anyone recently," she asked.

"We rented it out yesterday. Some guy from California called and wanted a quiet, private place at the end of the beach. I thought Lissa's place would be ideal," she replied.

"Guess what Mia," Rose snapped. "I'm still here. Didn't Lissa tell you I was staying longer?"

Rose heard a gasp before Mia exclaimed, "Oh Rose, I'm sorry! We thought you were leaving yesterday! Is he there now?"

Glancing toward the back room, a grimace on her face, she replied, "Well you could say that. Listen, Mia, what's this guy's name?" She figured she could at least verify his identity.

"Hold on a sec," Mia responded. "It's here on the forms. Here it is! Ivan Zeklos. Why?"

Not wanting to explain her current predicament, Rose replied, "No reason. Just wanted to know what to call him." With that, she hung up and returned to the room. Chewing on her bottom lip, she had no clue how to proceed. Slowly walking back inside, she found Mr. Zeklos leaning against the bed, his eyes closed. Upon hearing her, however, his eyes shot open, spotting her in the dimly lit chamber. Rose reached for the light switch next to the doorway and flipped on the overhead light. They both squinted from the sudden brightness, taking a few seconds to adjust.

"I just got off the phone with the rental company. It seems they did rent out the house. I want to confirm who you are before I let you go," she explained.

Exasperated, he answered, "My name is Dimitri Belikov." She cocked her head, displaying wariness and confusion. He quickly added, "My manager, Ivan Zeklosre leased the house."

Nodding, Rose responded, "That's the name Mia gave me." She thought she had detected a slight accent, possibly eastern European or Russian. His name confirmed it.

Slowly, Rose made her way toward the man and knelt next to him. She reached around behind, working the knots out from the cord wrapped around his wrists. While working the bindings loose, a sublime aroma flooded her senses. She guessed it had to be his aftershave or cologne. Whatever it was, it was heady. She could feel his breath on her cheek as he watched her work. The sensation caused small goosebumps to rise along her skin. She moved back onto her knees, her face a few inches from his. Time seemed to stop as they looked at each other. His eyes were warm chocolate, drawing her into their depths. His gaze was intense, but she couldn't read anything in them.

She found her eyes drawn to his lips as a small smirk formed. His lips were full and looked soft. "See something you like?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Rose's own eyes widened in embarrassment then flew back to his before she quickly stood up, backing away toward the door. He looked at her amused as he gracefully arose. He ran his hands over his clothes as if attempting to remove the wrinkles from his expensive looking suit. As he moved, he winced, reaching to the back of his head. Grimacing, he looked at Rose. "For someone of your stature, you sure did put some power into that hit. Surprised I'm not bleeding or have a concussion," he told her.

A flush crept up from her neck into her cheeks. "I am sorry about this. I had no idea they rented the house. The owner is a friend of mine, and she has been letting me stay here indefinitely. She must have forgotten to let the rental company know I was still here," she explained.

He only nodded, still holding a hand to his head, gently rubbing the spot she had hit. As he pulled his hand away, she saw blood on his fingertips. Gasping, she strode toward him, grabbing his wrists. As soon as their skin met, she felt a hum run through her, as if she had accidentally touched a small electrical current. She quickly released his wrists and dropped her hands to her side. She balled them into fists, looking anywhere but his face. "You're bleeding. You should get to the hospital. You might have a concussion. Do you need me to call someone; a cab or a family member?" she asked.

"No, and it's fine. I think the wood just scraped my scalp. I'll need to clean it up and maybe put something on it. Have any antibiotic cream?" he asked.

Rose nodded and indicated he should follow her into the adjoining bathroom. "Have a seat," she said, pointing to the toilet next to the sink. As he sat, she busied herself, pulling out the first aid kit. Dampening a washcloth, she turned toward Dimitri. "Can you show me where the wound is?"

Dimitri indicated the area, and Rose gently pressed the cloth against his scalp. After she had cleared away any debris, she applied the cream on the open wound. He had been correct; it wasn't too bad. It was more of an abrasion. Still, guilt was eating at her, as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. Once she finished, Dimitri stood up, turning to face her. She finally noticed, in the enclosed space, how tall he was. He was well over six feet, maybe closer to seven. She was above average height, at five feet, seven inches, and he towered over her.

Unsure of what to do and feeling uncomfortable so close to him in the small room, she walked back into the bedroom and made her way into the living room. Turning on the table lamp, she proceeded to add another log to the nearly extinguished fire. She then made her way over to the small sofa, indicating he should sit. He moved languidly and sat down at the opposite end, turning to face her as she took a seat at the other end. She started to speak but saw he was going to say something. She quickly closed her mouth, waiting for him to start.

"So, you know my name, but I haven't had the pleasure. I'm assuming you're either a descendant of Babe Ruth or maybe Rhonda Rousey's sister?" he asked, humor in his eyes and a small smirk on his lips.

Rose rolled her eyes, but a small smile formed on her lips. "I did train in mixed martial arts, but they were too scared I'd outshine Rhonda," she joked. He let out a laugh, which wrapped around Rose like a warm, wonderful blanket. Her grin grew, relieved she could get a laugh from the man she had just assaulted. Inwardly, however, she frowned, wondering why it mattered. "However, to answer your question, my name is Rose Hathaway."

"Well, Rose Hathaway, it's a…" he laughed. "I was going to say a pleasure to meet you, but I'm not entirely sure that's an appropriate description of our first meeting."

Rose cringed, pulling up her legs and burying her face in her hands, wishing the couch would swallow her whole. He continued, "But, under the circumstances, you acted bravely. Although, it probably would have been wiser to run and call the authorities. You had no idea who I was or what I might do. That was a little foolish, but brave none the less."

"Yes, I've been told by many over the years that I should rely more on my gut and instinct, but alas, I usually end up jumping in without truly thinking of the consequences," she replied.

They sat quietly for a brief moment, before Rose decided to address the elephant in the room. "Uhm, so, how do you think we should address the situation? I know you have rented the house. I'm sure the rental company could find you other accommodations or give you a refund if you wanted to reschedule."

A look of shock and then amusement crossed his features before he replied, "Why would I think of leaving? I've paid for the reservation, and I've taken off from work. Shouldn't you be the one to leave?"

Indignant, Rose snapped, "Hey, buddy, this is my friend's house. She's letting me stay here for however long I decide. I think that trumps a stranger!"

Dimitri sighed, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge between them. He opened them again and glared towards Rose, still huddled at the end of the sofa. "Look, I need this time away from work, hell, from everything. I can't afford wasting time finding another place that will meet my exact needs. Is there no compromise?"

Rose looked at him, her eyes narrowing into slits, studying him. She didn't know much about him, only his name and that he was legitimately allowed to be there. He had, after all, signed a rental contract. She was here at the mercy of her friend and had already been there for several weeks. Was it fair for her to force him out? Sighing, she answered, "Here's the thing. I've been staying here dealing with some personal issues. I…I don't really have anywhere else to go at the moment."

A silence fell over them, Rose watching the red and orange flames dance in the fireplace. She realized she was holding her breath, waiting for Dimitri's response. She hoped he would take pity on her situation and leave her in peace. Finally, he spoke, startling her out of her thoughts. "What if I were to offer an option that would work for us both?" he said.

"What sort of option?" she queried, looking at him quizzically.

"Well, it's just the two of us, so if we were to both stay, it's not like we'd be on top of one another." For some reason those words brought a blush to her cheeks as she suddenly took his words in a completely inappropriate manner. "Why don't we share the house? I will only be here for a week. We don't even have to speak to each other or spend time together," he continued.

Her gut was telling her that she should say yes, actually it was screaming. However, her head was telling her that it was a bad idea. She didn't know anything about him. He could be a serial killer! Rose knew intellectually she should decline his offer, but as she was about to speak, she thought back to what her father had told her. He had said she had good instincts and shouldn't doubt them or herself. It was then she realized what she would do, no, what she needed to do. "Alright, Mr. Belikov, we'll give this a shot. But so help me, if you do anything creepy or show any signs of being a sociopath, I'll do more than take a log to your head," she said, giving him her meanest glare.

"Deal!" he responded.