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I glowered. "She does not." After another survey of his crazy route, I conceded. "Okay. Let's do it."
He gestured. "You first."
I took a deep breath and leapt off. My skis slid smoothly over the snow, and piercing wind blasted into my face. I made the first jump neatly and precisely, but as the next part of the course sped forward, I realized just how dangerous it really was. In that split second, I had a decision to make. If I didn't do it, I'd never hear the end of it from Mason- and I really wanted to show him up. If I did manage it, I could feel pretty secure about my awesomeness. But if I tried and messed up ... I could break my neck.
Somewhere in my head, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Dimitri's started talking about wise choices and learning when to show restraint.
I decided to ignore that voice and went for it.
This course was as hard as I'd feared, but I pulled it off flawlessly, one insane move after another. Snow flew up around me as I made each sharp, dangerous turn. When I safely reached bottom, I looked up and saw Mason gesturing wildly. I couldn't make out his expression or words, but I could imagine his cheers. I waved back and waited for him to follow suit.
But he didn't. Because when Mason got halfway down, he wasn't able to pull off one of the jumps. His skis caught, and his legs twisted. Down he went.
I reached him at about the same time some of the resort staff did. To everyone's relief, Mason hadn't broken his neck or anything else. His ankle did appear to have a nasty sprain, however, which was probably going to limit his skiing for the rest of the trip.
One of the instructors monitoring the slopes ran forward, fury all over her face.
"What were you kids thinking?" she exclaimed. She turned on me. "I couldn't believe it when you did those stupid stunts!" Her glare fixed on Mason next. "And then you had to go ahead and copy her!"
I wanted to argue that it had all been his idea, but blame didn't matter at this point. I was just glad he was all right. But as we all went inside, guilt began to gnaw at me. I had acted irresponsibly. What if he'd been seriously injured? Horrible visions danced through my mind. Mason with a broken leg ... a broken neck...
What had I been thinking? No one had made me do that course. Mason had suggested it... but I hadn't fought back. Goodness knew I probably could have. I might have had to endure some mockery, but Mason was crazy enough about me that feminine wiles probably would have stopped this madness. I'd gotten caught up in the excitement and the risk- much as I had in kissing Dimitri- not giving enough thought to the consequences because secretly, inside of me, that impulsive desire to be wild still lurked. Mason had it too, and his called to me.
That mental Dimitri voice chastised me once more.
After Mason was safely returned to the lodge and had ice on his ankle, I carried our equipment back outside toward the storage buildings. When I went back inside, I went through a different doorway than I normally used. This entrance was set behind a huge, open porch with an ornate wooden railing. The porch was built into the side of the mountain and had a breathtaking view of the other peaks and valleys around us- if you felt like standing around long enough in freezing temperatures to admire it. Which most people didn't.
I walked up the steps to the porch, stomping snow off my boots as I did. A thick scent, both spicy and sweet, hung in the air. Something about it felt familiar, but before I could identify it, a voice suddenly spoke to me out of the shadows.
"Hey, little dhampir."
Startled, I realized someone was indeed standing on the porch. A guy- a Moroi- leaned against the wall not far from the door. He brought a cigarette up to his mouth, took a long drag, and then dropped it to the floor. He stamped the butt out and crooked me a smile. That was the scent, I realized. Clove cigarettes.
Warily, I stopped and crossed my arms as I took him in. He was a little shorter than Dimitri but wasn't as lanky as some Moroi guys ended up looking. A long, charcoal coat- probably made out of some insanely expensive cashmere-wool blend- fit his body exceptionally well, and the leather dress shoes he wore indicated more money still. He had brown hair that looked like it had been purposely styled to appear a little unkempt, and his eyes were either blue or green- I didn't have quite enough light to know for sure. His face was cute, I supposed, and I pegged him to be a couple years older than me. He looked like he'd just come from a dinner party.
"Yeah?" I asked.
His eyes swept over my body. I was used to attention from Moroi guys. It just usually wasn't so obvious. And I usually wasn't bundled up in winter clothing and sporting a black eye.
He shrugged. "Just saying hi, that's all."
I waited for more, but all he did was stuff his hands into the coat's pockets. With a shrug of my own, I took a couple steps forward.
"You smell good, you know," he suddenly said.
I stopped walking again and gave him a puzzled look, which only made his sly smile grow a little bigger.
"I... um, what?"
"You smell good," he repeated.
"Are you joking? I've been sweating all day. I'm disgusting." I wanted to walk away, but there was something eerily compelling about this guy. Like a train wreck. I didn't find him attractive per se; I was just suddenly interested in talking to him.
"Sweat isn't a bad thing," he said, leaning his head against the wall and looking upward thoughtfully. "Some of the best things in life happen while sweating. Yeah, if you get too much of it and it gets old and stale, it turns pretty gross. But on a beautiful woman? Intoxicating. If you could smell things like a vampire does, you'd know what I'm talking about. Most people mess it all up and drown themselves in perfume. Perfume can be good...especially if you get one that goes with your chemistry. But you only need a hint. Mix about 20 percent of that with 80 percent of your own perspiration...mmm." He tilted his head to the side and looked at me. "Dead sexy."
I suddenly remembered Dimitri and his aftershave. Yeah. That had been dead sexy, but I certainly wasn't going to tell this guy about it.
"Well, thanks for the hygiene lesson," I said. "But I don't own any perfume, and I'm going to go shower all this hot sweaty action off me. Sorry."
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to me. He moved only a step closer, but it was enough for me to smell something else on him. Alcohol. I shook my head at the cigarettes, and he tapped one out for himself.
"Bad habit," I said, watching him light it.
"One of many," he replied. He inhaled deeply. "You here with St. Vlad's?"
