Page 34 of One For my Enemy

“I have to work, Lev,” Sasha told him without turning around. He took a few quiet steps to come up behind her, resting his hands lightly on her hips. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he agreed, his lips brushing her shoulder as his fingers tightened around her waist. “I’m serious, too. I’ll help you with the inventory,” he offered, the rumble of his voice against her spine serving to resonate promisingly in her chest. “Make use of whatever time you save?”

He lifted one hand from her waist, brushing his thumb delicately over her throat. When she tipped her head back, letting it fall against his chest, he rested his hand gently around the base of her neck, holding her against him as he brushed his lips beside her ear.

“How long does it usually take you to finish closing?” he asked, and she swallowed hard; he probably felt the impact of it under his palm.

“An hour,” she said.

“Perfect,” Lev determined, abruptly releasing her, and she stumbled backwards slightly, turning to find him already unloading one of the boxes. “So, we’ll do this,” he informed her, gesturing to the work at hand, “and then I get whatever’s left of the hour. Sound fair?”

His hands were exuberantly full of spring-scented hand creams, and Sasha sighed, conceding.

“Fine,” she determined, shifting to do her work.

She tried to be subtle about her own anticipation, keeping her pace stoically measured, but it was clear Lev was quickening his pace. He replaced a full box of hand creams, rapidly adjusting the shelf, and then glanced over at her, his mouth quirking slightly.

“What next?” he prompted, and she realized it was a race.

Two re-stocked displays, eight refilled testers, and ten minutes of counting spare change later and they were finally done, leaving her to glance down at her watch.

“Look at that,” Sasha remarked, “I have an extra half hour.”

“That’s soconvenient,” Lev said, grinning. “So, where are we going?” She paused, considering it.

“Um,” she began, and Lev answered for her.

“Let’s get a drink,” he suggested, and Sasha hesitated, but permitted a nod.

“Okay,” she determined, and Lev spared her a slow smile, leading her out the door.

II. 16

(Reprisal.)

Twelve years had passed since Marya had last entered the warehouse of Koschei the Deathless.

It seemed to Marya part of an entirely different life, or perhaps simply a dream she’d once had, that it was ever a place she had once considered safe, even sacred. For obvious reasons, that was no longer true. Had Koschei known that Marya Antonova hadeverbreached his defenses, of course, there would have been no end to his fury. Unfortunately for him, there had once been nothing of higher consequence than the stolen moments two young lovers had carved out for themselves in secret.

Marya had once been thoroughly apprised of how to sneak inside the warehouse, which wards to slip and which alarms to avoid, passed to her in whispers only shadows would hear. She thought maybe she would find it different now—that perhaps Dimitri had undergone the necessary precautions to keep her out—but she discovered almost immediately that everything was precisely as it had always been.

She slid into the warehouse like a ghost, tiptoeing quietly.

It was easy enough to find Dimitri. After all, he wasn’t some trinket Koschei could hide away, and neither would he wish to. Marya knew Koschei would have done as much in the way of enchantments as he could manage, and she felt pulled to the security charms that were pulsing up the stairs, the old wood creaking beneath her feet.

If any spells had been specifically designed to keep her out, they would almost certainly fail to manage it; without Dimitri, the Fedorovs would be at a considerable loss. Besides, if Dimitri had managed to become a powerful witch, it was only because he’d grown up with Marya. Koschei, for all his many talents, was always more businessman than witch, while Marya had all her father’s abilities, and her mother’s, too. That she’d been generous enough (read: foolish enough) to share it all with Dimitri had long been something she feared she might one day regret, though she never pondered it for long. There was nothing to be done about the past. For better or worse, she had always shared everything with Dimitri, until the day she’d shared nothing at all.

She passed through the enchantments to find him sleeping, his face placid and still.

Her fault.

Her doing.

She swallowed hard, reaching out.

He’d always been so golden, like a storybook prince. His hair was swept across his forehead in his enchanted sleep and she brushed it back, tracing the shape of his nose, his cheeks, his lips. He had been hers, once. She had known every motion of his face and true, it was older now, but still it was the same, as perfectly preserved in half-life as it had been in her memory. She slid her hand down, passing it lightly over his throat, and tucked the heel of her hand into the base of his sternum, her thumb a straight line against his chest.

Then she pressed her free hand down flat, shoving pressure into the spell, and Dimitri sat up with a gasp, choking.

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