The train debacle had dealt a serious blow to Dimitri's ego as a trade professional.

Since their impromptu escape, his mind had been consumed with scrambling to salvage the remains of a con that was supposed to be the crown jewel of all his deceptions. It became apparent, however, that somewhere during the fireside discussions with Vladimir about money woes and route-planning, Anya herself - the key ingredient to that con - had become an afterthought.

Two whole days had passed before Dimitri noticed how she made a point to sit on the opposing side of their campfires, avoiding eye contact altogether, hardly speaking.

Dimitri knew something was wrong when he realized just how long he'd gone without bearing the brunt of her usually sharp tongue. He should have enjoyed her unusual reserve, but there was an uneasiness about it that encouraged cold sweats. If he thought a petulant Anya was difficult to stomach before, he found the sullen, brooding version almost intolerable.

Punching his fists into his pockets, he continued to trail behind her, frowning at the forest floor as he picked his way through half-dead vegetation.

He cursed when he lost his balance again while kicking some brush from his path. The exhaustion making him unsteady on his feet had little to do with the miles of walking or meager consumption of food.

Dimitri was worn out from his need to watch Anya's every move. He hadn't slept much since the train - first because of his panic, then because he'd learned she liked to wander off - and it somehow wasn't enough to know exactly where she was. He needed to see her. He had an investment to protect, after all. Anya's resistance only made his urge to tighten the leash that much stronger.

Dimitri called her name. She didn't so much as slow her pace.

In a burst of frustration, Dimitri flicked one of the offshoots he'd stripped from a dead branch at the back of Anya's head.

She barely flinched. Pausing for a second when the tiny stick whizzed past her ear, she turned around to nail him with a homicidal glare before resuming her search for wood not soaked by the melting snow.

That was the only direct response she'd given Dimitri in the last four days.

Four days, six hours and - he checked his watch - seventeen minutes.

Give or take.

Dimitri passed a hand over his face with a sigh, knowing he should feel grateful. He'd lost count of how many times since St. Petersburg he'd considered taping her mouth shut. Or knocking her over the head and dragging her by the ankles the rest of the way to Paris in blessed silence as a last resort.

No matter how many times he reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to care - that he didn't care, goddamit - Anya's sudden refusal to acknowledge his presence irked him in a way that made no sense at all. Even once he became aware of the invisible wall she had erected around herself since they left the village, Dimitri had his own reasons for why he hadn't considered breaching it until now.

If they didn't speak, she wouldn't look at him. If she didn't look at him, his chest would be in no danger of becoming vise-tight, like he could never suck in a breath deep enough for normal respiration again.

And if he could breathe, he could think straight - a once-effortless ability that eluded him since they met. Then he could get them to Paris safe and sound, trade Anya for his millions, and cut all ties. Easy, clean. Like it was always supposed to be.

But nothing in Dimitri's world was ever that simple, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

After all, didn't he get her out of the city, as promised? True, his methods turned out to be a bit...unorthodox, but he'd thus far kept his end of the bargain, hadn't he? And afterward, even though she didn't deserve it, he'd tried hard to be nice to her. And all Dimitri got in return as thanks were tight lips and caustic silence.

Ungrateful brat.

His jaw clenched. He was done entertaining Anya's nonsense. It was time to remind her who was running the show.

Dimitri broke into a jog, hustling up to Anya's side before thrusting his body directly in her path. She was searching the ground so intently she ran into him with her armload of firewood.

As she backed up a few paces and her eyes snapped up to his, he demanded, "You are going to stand here, right now, and tell me what the hell your problem is." He rubbed absently at his chest where a stick had poked him.

Anya raised an eyebrow and barked out a nasty laugh. "Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said." Dimitri crossed his arms and tried to focus somewhere on Anya's forehead, recalling the odd sensation akin to suffocating direct eye contact with her produced at such close range.

His aggravation turned into confusion when Anya began looking all around her, as if she was searching for something.

"Oh - you're talking to me?" she finally asked him, her words bloated with sarcasm. She hit him with the most venomous scowl he'd seen yet. "So I haven't been invisible this whole time? Are you sure, Dimitri?"

Dimitri frowned down at her, now just as confused as he was angry. "What are you talking about?" He kept his voice as low as he could but couldn't keep from gritting his teeth hard enough to feel his jaw pop. He should try harder to stay calm. This could get out of hand if he couldn't keep it together. He took a deep breath to keep from shaking her.

Anya said nothing, only pursed her lips and watched him through slitted eyes.

"Well?" Dimitri prompted. When she still said nothing, he threw his hands up in exasperation. "You plan on spitting it out sometime today?"

"Oh, now you want to include me in your conversation?"

"What?"

"I can't think of one I've been a part of lately," Anya ground out. "Can you?"

Dimitri's scowl deepened. So that's what this was about? She was pouting because her feelings were hurt by some imaginary slight? "Anya, you're insane. We never intentionally excluded you from a conversation - "

"Bullshit." Anya made a quick move to brush past him, but Dimitri blocked her with his shoulder. He couldn't risk touching her anywhere with his hands. Not after what had happened to him last time.

"No, this is bullshit," he shot back as she stumbled backward again, her face contorted into a picture of disbelief. Her lips thinned. Dimitri didn't back down. "Don't run. You obviously have something to say; stop being a pussy and say it."

Anya didn't speak, but her cheeks turned ruddy just before she tried to rush him again. Dimitri could have blocked her as easily as the first time, but elected to knock the bundle of firewood she was carrying to the ground for emphasis. This argument would be on his terms for once.

He almost regretted it when he saw how quickly her eyes changed from the dusky blue of open sea to that of the purest, hottest flame. Although he would never admit it to anyone, Dimitri wondered for a fleeting second if he should fear for his life.

Anya stood unnaturally still as she turned her gaze from Dimitri to the firewood now scattered at her feet. She squeezed her eyes closed, her hands balled into little fists. After a long moment, she spoke so softly Dimitri had to strain to hear her.

"You have no idea how hard I'm trying not to kill you right now."

Dimitri snorted, taking a step away from her just in case. "Please. For what? Neither Vlad nor I have done anything to you except save you from what would have been a really bad situation. I still don't understand what the problem is -"

"You talk about me like I'm not even there, Dimitri!" Anya exploded. "You and Vlad sit there day after day, planning my goddamn life, and don't ask me shit -"

"That's because you don't know shit!" Dimitri returned with the same heat. So much for diplomacy. "What did you expect us to do? Ask for your advice? If we could borrow some money? I can tell just by looking at you that not only have you probably never seen more than twenty rubles at one time in your life, you couldn't find your way out of the city if somebody paid you, let alone get into another country. Vlad and I had it covered."

Anya's silence felt heavy as lead. Dimitri could see her legs shaking. His fists clenched and unclenched inside his jacket. Her rage seemed to be a reflection of his own and Dimitri fed off what she was projecting, blood thrumming in his temples.

Her eyes gleamed as her nostrils flared. "Go to hell, Dimitri."

Dimitri flashed her a sinister grin. "Ladies first."

A high-pitched screech, so sudden it made Dimitri jump, ripped from Anya's throat. Instinct alone made him duck just in time to avoid the tree branch she lobbed at his head.

And the next one.

And the one after that.

"You are the most disgusting -"

" - Anya, stop!"

" - selfish, smug bastard - "

Anya continued her relentless assault as he scrambled for cover, yelling some of the most creative curses he'd ever heard while flinging anything she could get her hands on at him once she ran out of sticks. He couldn't get anywhere near her for the flying debris, but when a chunk of dirty ice bounced off his cheek, Dimitri lunged forward with a roar and tackled her, forcing her to stagger backward until her back hit the trunk of a nearby pine.

She let out a sharp squeak of surprise, then immediately began to struggle. Dimitri grabbed her wrists and forced them over her head. He anticipated her attempt to use her knees against him and leaned into her with his full body weight to still any further movement.

His fury evaporated when he became aware of the thrust of her chest against his with every rapid breath she gulped down, the sharp points of her hip bones pressing into him through their clothes. It was as if he could feel every hard angle of Anya's body - he could hardly call them curves - like there was no fabric between them.

Anya stilled as Dimitri panted into the tree bark, next to her ear. The heat from her flushed cheeks burned against the flesh of his neck. She inexplicably smelled of wet earth and strawberries.

He could do nothing to stop the trembling that took over as the spark he'd felt before returned, this time an inferno that flared through his veins. Dimitri was so shaken he was almost afraid to look at her, but he forced himself to draw back and peer at her face. Anya's hands gradually relaxed in his hold. Her gloved fingers curled toward him as if in surrender. She wet her parted lips and stared back at him, unblinking and unnerving.

Her arms still held high above her head, Anya grunted and tried to move her legs again. Dimitri instinctively pressed his body more firmly against hers, anchoring her to the tree with his hips, just as her eyes fluttered closed and she -

But no, she couldn't have. That couldn't have been a whimper he heard. Could it?

He may have imagined it in his half-aroused, half-horrified state. But even if the keening sound was just in his mind, the possibility alone nearly made him groan out loud.

They were both filthy, and he was freezing, but an even colder chill blasted through him with the knowledge that he could take this bony, foul-mouthed orphan right now, up against this tree or on the ground amongst the dead leaves, without a second thought.

Dimitri blinked. He wanted her.

Jesus, how was that even possible? Aside from the fact that he preferred his women much older than himself and with a lot more meat on their bones, Anya was just...Anya, for god's sake. Childish and aggravating, with about as much sex appeal as a snot-nosed kid sister with measles.

The distinct tingling in his balls seemed at odds with that school of thought.

Oh, God.

Anya made what felt like a last-ditch effort to yank her hands free of Dimitri's, but he only gripped her wrists tighter. But not too tight. He didn't want to break her.

The strange light that entered her eyes caught him by surprise. He was used to seeing nothing there for him but contempt whenever he dared to look.

"Dimitri, let me go." Her voice, barely a whisper, sounded strained. He still stood close enough to feel her words on his lips.

"You sure you're done with all the crazy?"

She nodded a little too eagerly, eyes like saucers. Dimitri's brows lowered when he noticed she was looking past him, over his shoulder.

He gave her a puzzled look. "What -" Then he heard, of all things...snuffling.

Dimitri loosened his grip on Anya and half-turned, as slowly as he could. And when he saw what was nosing around a stand of trees a few yards away, he wished he had never looked.