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down over the years. The older guardians assessed character and dedication, and some novices had been deemed unfit to continue down the guardian path. "Don't they usually come to the Academy?" I asked Dimitri. "I mean, I'm all for the field trip, but why are we going to them?" "Actually, you're just going to a him, not a them." A light Russian accent laced Dimitri's words, the only indication of where he'd grown up. Otherwise, I was pretty sure he spoke English better than I did. "Since this is a special case and he's doing us the favor, we're the ones making the trip." "Who is he?" "Arthur Schoenberg." I jerked my gaze from the road to Dimitri. "What?" I squeaked. Arthur Schoenberg was a legend. He was one of the greatest Strigoi slayers in living guardian history and used to be the head of the Guardians Council—the group of people who assigned guardians to Moroi and made decisions for all of us. He'd eventually retired and gone back to protecting one of the royal families, the Badicas. Even retired, I knew he was still lethal. His exploits were part of my curriculum. "Wasn't… wasn't there anyone else available?" I asked in a small voice. I could see Dimitri hiding a smile. "You'll be fine. Besides, if Art approves of you, that's a great recommendation to have on your record." Art. Dimitri was on a first-name basis with one of the most badass guardians around. Of course, Dimitri was pretty badass himself, so I shouldn't have been surprised. Silence fell in the car. I bit my lip, suddenly wondering if I'd be able to meet Arthur Schoenberg's standards. My grades were good, but things like running away and getting into fights at school might cast a shadow on how serious I was about my future career.
"You'll be fine," Dimitri repeated. "The good in your record outweighs the bad." It was like he could read my mind sometimes. I smiled a little and dared to peek at him. It was a mistake. A long, lean body, obvious even while sitting. Bottomless dark eyes. Shoulder-length brown hair tied back at his neck. That hair felt like silk. I knew because I'd run my fingers through it when Victor Dashkov had ensnared us with the lust charm. With great restraint, I forced myself to start breathing again and look away. "Thanks, Coach," I teased, snuggling back into the seat. "I'm here to help," he replied. His voice was light and relaxed—rare for him. He was usually wound up tightly, ready for any attack. Probably he figured he was safe inside a Honda—or at least as safe as he could be around me. I wasn't the only one who had trouble ignoring the romantic tension between us. "You know what would really help?" I asked, not meeting his eyes. "Hmm?" "If you turned off this crap music and put on something that came out after the Berlin Wall went down." Dimitri laughed. "Your worst class is history, yet somehow, you know everything about Eastern Europe." "Hey, gotta have material for my jokes, Comrade." Still smiling, he turned the radio dial. To a country station. "Hey! This isn't what I had in mind," I exclaimed. I could tell he was on the verge of laughing again. "Pick. It's one or the other." I sighed. "Go back to the 1980’s stuff." He flipped the dial, and I crossed my arms over my chest as some vaguely European-sounding band sang about how video had killed the radio star. I wished someone would kill this radio.
- Page 2 and 3: Frostbite Vampire Academy Book 2 Ri
- Page 4 and 5: PROLOGUE THINGS DIE. BUT THEY DON'T
- Page 6 and 7: And there's one Moroi I want to pro
- Page 8 and 9: By the way, my name's Rose Hathaway
- Page 10 and 11: "No, no," she said hastily. "I'm fi
- Page 14 and 15: Suddenly, five hours didn't seem as
- Page 16 and 17: Standing on the driveway, I glanced
- Page 18 and 19: I stared at Arthur's bloody throat.
- Page 20 and 21: TWO DIMITRI MADE ONE PHONE CALL, an
- Page 22 and 23: I hesitated. Guardians, as a genera
- Page 24 and 25: I faltered. I'd tangled briefly wit
- Page 26 and 27: "I thought you were taking your Qua
- Page 28 and 29: There was an intensely sensual note
- Page 30 and 31: THREE THE LOBBY OF MY DORM was abuz
- Page 32 and 33: who want to go. With everyone in on
- Page 34 and 35: Since he wasn't wearing a coat, I k
- Page 36 and 37: them—it was a man with blond hair
- Page 38 and 39: "You ever tried to feed those littl
- Page 40 and 41: FOUR I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. JANINE
- Page 42 and 43: incapable of having the imagination
- Page 44 and 45: "So, Guardian Hathaway," I began. "
- Page 46 and 47: "Coddle?" I asked. This woman had n
- Page 48 and 49: His eyes sparkled. "I can't believe
- Page 50 and 51: "Only to those who bring it to you
- Page 52 and 53: FIVE I HAD NO IDEA WHAT Dimitri was
- Page 54 and 55: observed before, though, Strigoi we
- Page 56 and 57: "Hard to say," I said. Tasha crooke
- Page 58 and 59: "Me too," said Lissa. "Maybe we cou
- Page 60 and 61: "Russian's weird," In Russian, the
"You'll be fine," Dimitri repeated. "The good in your record outweighs the bad."<br />
It was like he could read my mind sometimes. I smiled a little and dared to peek at him. It was a<br />
mistake. A long, lean body, obvious even while sitting. Bottomless dark eyes. Shoulder-length<br />
brown hair tied back at his neck. That hair felt like silk. I knew because I'd run my fingers<br />
through it when Victor Dashkov had ensnared us with the lust charm. With great restraint, I<br />
forced myself to start breathing again and look away.<br />
"Thanks, Coach," I teased, snuggling back into the seat.<br />
"I'm here to help," he replied. His voice was light and relaxed—rare for him. He was usually<br />
wound up tightly, ready for any attack. Probably he figured he was safe inside a Honda—or at<br />
least as safe as he could be around me. I wasn't the only one who had trouble ignoring the<br />
romantic tension between us.<br />
"You know what would really help?" I asked, not meeting his eyes.<br />
"Hmm?"<br />
"If you turned off this crap music and put on something that came out after the Berlin Wall<br />
went down."<br />
Dimitri laughed. "Your worst class is history, yet somehow, you know everything about Eastern<br />
Europe."<br />
"Hey, gotta have material for my jokes, Comrade."<br />
Still smiling, he turned the radio dial. To a country station.<br />
"Hey! This isn't what I had in mind," I exclaimed.<br />
I could tell he was on the verge of laughing again. "Pick. It's one or the other."<br />
I sighed. "Go back to the 1980’s stuff."<br />
He flipped the dial, and I crossed my arms over my chest as some vaguely European-sounding<br />
band sang about how video had killed the radio star. I wished someone would kill this radio.
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