Devane Manor, Port Charles

"If you want more, you know where to find me."

The memory of a low masculine voice sounded in her mind's ear. Anna's mind wandered, though she stubbornly tried to keep it on the warm weather and not on the man whose lips had touched hers not one hour prior. All the same, she remembered how she leaned into the caress, relishing the warmth of his body enveloping hers, pleasant and not oppressive, wondering when his touch had become so familiar to her. It didn't matter, she told herself firmly, it wouldn't happen again. It wasn't right.

But it didn't make it any less tempting.

She turned her head and could see the final light of the fireworks from the harbor through her bedroom window as they stained the glass with bursts of gold, red and blue, but she had had enough sparks for one evening. The air of her room grew dense with the heat, feeling warmer than the sun-soaked patio she had stood on earlier, the walls of her home no longer providing expected cool relief from the setting July sun. The clock chimed, and Anna briefly wondered how much time had passed. Has it been minutes or hours? The hot summer air was still stifling, and she walked to adjust the thermostat and cool her fevered skin. She thought that was as much heat as she wished to enjoy today.

Then she harkened back to how his lips felt when they touched her palm; a red mark still sat on her skin, almost as if he had burned himself into her palm. The way the caution in his stare had turned to purpose when he pulled her to him like a vortex was also burned into her brain. His infuriating smirk, the confidence brimming in his eyes, mixed with the flare of his hubris, was an odd but strangely alluring combination, one that she had refused to acknowledge until now. His words were smooth as velvet; she was beautiful, enchanting, communicating to her how he wanted her, and had wanted her for years. The lust in his eyes was mirrored in his mouth when he pressed his lips together in barely constrained hunger while she had desperately tried to remember who she was and who he was and the multitude of reasons why this was a dangerous game to play. But the kiss… A stream of shivers flowed down her spine and settled in its base.

She flopped back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, letting out all the air she held in her lungs with a whoosh. She still felts the presence of his hands and his mouth on her and is desperate for return of both. And maybe more...no no no. She felt the frustration stirring beneath her skin with an almost tangible itchiness; the tension has neared its boiling point. Anna half expected steam to start streaming from her body the longer she dwelt on the memory of his hands firmly planted on her hips and his mouth moving over hers. She was exasperated but not surprised; this is what you get for literally playing with fire.

She tilted her head to the side, sudden determination settling in her mind; she would do her best with the hand she played. She stood up from the bed and pulled on her shoes, followed by a black t-shirt, and she absentmindedly grabbed her gun and holster from her bedside table.

The feel of the cool metal in her hands stopped her in her tracks, and she looked down at it in her hand. It was a habit grown from many years of distrust. Why she felt it was still needed after their cold war had ended, a truce had been established, and their friendship had taken root gave her pause. But she shook it off. Better safe than sorry, after all. And with that final thought, she shoved the holster down her jeans into its familiar place at the small of her back. With that, she was down the stairs and out the door in seconds.


Quartermaine Mansion, Port Charles

The hubbub in the Quartermain mansion had finally settled, and everyone had retreated to their respective corners. Charlotte had bathed, surrendered her phone, and headed to bed with a copy of Black Beauty tucked under her arm. Brook Lynn had brought Bailey and her warmed bottle to the study so that Valentin could feed her and lull her to sleep with lullabies. Bailey's favorite was A la Clair Fontaine, a rather sweet if melancholic song. He sang his favorite verse in a soft, soothing voice.

"Chante, rossignol, chante,

Toi qui as le c?ur gai.

Tu as le c?ur à rire

Moi je l'ai à pleurer.

Il y a longtemps que je t'aime.

Jamais je ne t'oublierai"

He smiled at his daughter as her delicate eyelids fluttered closed and repeated the verse, this time in English.

"Sing, nightingale, sing,

You who has a joyous heart.

Your heart is made for laughing,

Mine can only cry.

I've loved you for a long time,

I will never forget you."

And suddenly, the face of a beautiful and aloof woman was framed in his mind's eye as the words cast a spell that haunted him. Her silvery laughter echoing in his ears, her eyes shining at him, a pleasure he had hardly dared dream about. Her whole face changed when she laughed . . . lightened . . . glowed . . . elevated.

He cradled the infant in his arms, but he felt a hundred miles away in a land made of his own memories as Brook Lynn looked on and smiled at him as if she could read his mind. She was dying to know what was happening between him and Anna, these two complicated people. It appealed to the romantic sensibilities that she tried to keep hidden lest anyone think she had gone mushy. There was a softness in Valentin that only Anna seemed to bring forth. She recognized devotion when she saw it. She could hear it in his voice.

"Soooo...you and Anna spent some time together today," she said in as nonchalant a way as she could manage.

"Yes, we did," he said simply

"How did it go?"

"How it always goes. It's complicated.

"But complicated good or complicated bad?" she teased

"I'd say...complicated," he said enigmatically.

"Well, alright then, Mr. Cryptic." she teased. "A girl can try but go ahead and keep spy business for spies, I guess," she smirked and then laughed. "I'll take her and lay her down now. Say Goodnight."

"Goodnight, ma petite." He said to the sleeping infant, placed a soft kiss on her downey head, and squeezed her mother's shoulder fondly. With that, Valentin walked slowly up the stairs and down the hallway to his room, rolling down the cuffs of his sleeves as he thought.

He turned on only the bedside lamp for light and looked out the picture window to see the round orb of the moon hanging in the bright silvery sky and shining like a beacon at him. He could hear rather than see the distant fireworks that must be putting on a show for the happy citizens of Port Charles, but all his mind could focus on was a sparkler, a striking woman who had captured his heart so many years ago and a stolen moment.

Silence settled down over the old mansion—the eerie, creeping silence of the night that was rare in this bustling household. Presently he smiled dreamily. He thought of her smile, and it completed his subjugation. It was not merely a matter of lips upturning and eyes matching, as it was with most smiles; it seemed to illuminate her whole being, as if some spark had suddenly burst into flame inside of her, irradiating him from head to toe. She dazzled. Best of all, it was involuntary, born of no external effort or motive, but simply the out flashing of some wild, indomitable spirit, uncontrollable as the waves of the sea or wind of a storm. He wondered where she was. What was she thinking? And was she thinking of him?

Of course, she was thinking of him, he thought with a self-satisfied smile.

The passion he felt holding her in his arms had mellowed into a comfortable ember that warmed him from the inside out. A peace, long unknown to his stormy soul, seemed to hover near to it. Her lithe, supple body had molded to his willingly, her lips had lingered on his, and her hands had run over him without hesitation. He smiled to himself as he thought of her flustered and breathless and looking even more lovely than usual if that was even possible. Her innocent playfulness did little to hide her real intentions, and the brilliance of her eyes as they caressed his face and body told him that the situation was far from settled, no matter how much the lady protested- and she protested much.

As for her protestations? He knew it was true, every word of it. He was a scoundrel, but not, he liked to tell himself, without principle or honor. He knew that perfectly well. It was in his blood. None of his line had ever been on good terms with respectability, or even sanity, and perhaps he was worse than them all. But the possibility of being loved by Anna Devane was worth being a better man for. Something he had never known or thought of before entered into his passion and purified it; maybe he could love her better than himself?

He felt his skin flush as he remembered the feel of her hands singing him through the fabric of his shirt. He felt his temperature rise again; with that, he undid his shirt buttons and shrugged it from his shoulders. He cast it aside and sat on the edge of the bed to pull his shoes and socks from his feet. He felt wide awake and didn't know how sleep was going to be possible.

TAP TAP TAP TAP

He startled at the sound of a hail of small sharp sounds on the glass of his window. He moved swiftly to the side of the window, wishing he could reach his gun from his position. He looked out into the darkness, his eyes narrowing as he tried to see the source of the sound. But he saw nothing. His body was taut as the fight instinct took hold.

Then she stepped out from the shadows into the vivid, eerie light glowing from the entrance to the Quartermaine mansion. He quickly opened the window and looked out. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, and she placed a finger to her lips and then lifted one hand, palm out, and then gestured to the ground. He knew the meaning of her hand signals. She wanted to see him downstairs.

In response, he held up both hands and to signal his understanding. They hadn't communicated like this in years, and he couldn't believe she even remembered. They had created their own secret means of communication so she could shake off the dorm chaperones and know it was all clear before climbing the trellis to his room so he could help her with her Latin studies...shorthand indeed.

Valentin, standing in the open casement with the moonlight in front of him, turned abruptly on his heel and went out. His heart was seething with pride and triumph and passion as he strode down the staircase and opened the door as silently as his haste would allow. He stepped out onto the stoop expecting to see her, every nerve in his body pulsing curiously at her presence.

But she wasn't there.

He walked further out but was greeted with nothing but the sound of crickets and wood frogs serenading him. He didn't know what to do but to walk out of the light and down the path to the left that led to the garden, where two branching white lilacs flanked a gate. He walked a few paces before he started questioning his own eyes. Perhaps he had dreamed her?

Then a hand took hold of his and pulled him into the darkness of the shrubs and trees that made up the landscaping around the house. He felt hands as strong as steel maneuver him until his back was against the wall. Valentin growled and put his hand on her hips as if to make sure won't disappear like a will-o-the wisp. Anna did not stop him. She cupped his cheeks and savored the warmth of his skin as her lips hovered close to his. She lets them touch in the merest of brushes before pulling away. A low grunt of discontent resonated within Valentin's throat while his head moved forward with eagerness, ready to reclaim her touch; the gesture was clumsy, unlike his usual swift reflexes, the unfulfilled desire finally taking its toll on him. He couldn't see her smile, but he could feel it in the darkness.

She pressed her body against his and brought her mouth to his again, letting the kiss linger this time, enjoying how well their lips fit together, the taste of red wine mingled with the taste of him. Her hips shifted of their own accord, and her body pulled forward as they kissed again, unable to resist the sensations rising within her. Her thumbs stroked the sharp line of his cheekbones with tenderness, and Valentin moaned softly as if in relief.

Valentin's mind raced, and his mind began to consider the logistics of getting her upstairs to his room but then tried to push the idea out of his mind. Anna Devane deserved more pomp and circumstance than sneaking in and out like some amorous teenager. He needed to have her somewhere where he could take the time to worship her body with his, giving her proper supplication. Somewhere she didn't have to be quiet. Somewhere where she could make any noise she wanted to.

Valentin's teeth grazed her collarbone, and Anna's last coherent thought vanished into nothingness. Her hands moved from his face to smooth over the planes of his chest, and that was when he realized that in his hurry to reach her, he had forgotten to re-don his shirt. Her palms were exploring his naked torso, and he thought he might blackout for a moment. Her lips met his in another deep kiss, and she felt his arms securing her to him. Her hands moved to feel the muscles of his back, kneading his flesh, making him wish she would use her nails. She moaned against his mouth and arched her back while his fingers splayed across the small of her back and began to travel further down until he felt something cold and hard impede his progress.

"You brought protection?" he laughed with amusement against her lips as he felt the smooth leather of her holster, and the weapon is held. His low chuckle, so full of warmth and so free from malice, was infectious, and she smiled against his mouth.

"Old habits. You know the saying. A necessary evil, I'm afraid."

"It's comforting to know you are armed. With danger lurking on our doorstep, I like knowing you are taking precautions, even with me. A cautious mind leads to a safe body."

"I remember that saying. The WSB liked their maxims didn't they?"

Suddenly the sound of a stick breaking in the still night caused Anna to freeze, and Valentin gripped her tighter as he did the same. His hand was on her gun, and he drew it out but let his hand drop to his side, his other arm maneuvering her behind him, but he found that he could no more easily move her as Gibraltar. Instead, she turned her back to him defensively as if to protect him. An instinct that made his stoney heart melt in only the way she could.

They peered into the darkness and could see a light bobbing up and down and drawing nearer. The sound of footsteps crunching on the crushed oyster shell driveway. They sank further back into the shadows and protection of the bushes and waited. The flashlight hovered around their hiding place, but they weren't given away.

"It's just Yuri," Valentin whispered into her ear, and she could feel him relax a fraction.

They could see the large Belarusian shrug his shoulders and keep moving on his circuit. Once he was far enough away, they both let out the breath they had been collectively holding.

Anna stood up straight and took her gun out of his hand before reholstering it. Then she leaned out to make sure the coast was clear before turning to face Valentin with a sly smile.

"If you want a threat analysis of your security protocols, I can always stop by and have a look tomorrow. It was pretty easy for me to get around the measures you had set up. I mean, I'm trained to look for vulnerabilities and-"

Valentin's ego bristled, and he placed a finger on her lips. "I can more than handle the security logistics here. I'll talk to Yuri tomorrow about how he can improve his night surveillance. Besides, let's get back to where you were accepting my offer of more-" His face moved closer to hers, but she leaned back, keeping herself frustratingly out of reach.

"Is that what I was doing? The way I see it, it's still the same night; it's still the same kiss."

"So you're determined then? To ignore what you are feeling right now? To ignore what I make you feel?"

He loomed over her, and she swallowed, and for a moment, he saw her defenses tremble like silk, but then he saw her eyes harden, and he knew her conscience had won the day. In the game of impulse control, she would not be bested by someone who had always given into theirs. His feelings about her worst impulses aside, she would not give into them. He sighed audibly.

Principles could be such a killjoy. He was glad he didn't have very many.

He didn't begrudge her anything. Follow her he must, somehow his destiny was entwined with hers, and he would cherish that even though he wished it was their bodies that were entwined. Anna looked straight at him with such stern brown eyes that Valentin felt she must have read his thoughts.

"Fine," he said in his most businesslike tone. "You set the rules of engagement Ms. Devane, and I will abide by them. But the offer of more still stands."

"Understood." she nodded. She turned away and then came back, raised up on her tiptoes, and placed one last kiss on his lips and ran a finger along his jaw, and then she slipped away into the long line of dark poplars that rimmed the walls of the Quartermaine estate and disappeared into the night.

Valentin watched until he could no longer detect her movements and then made his way back upstairs. Sleep was out of the question. So instead, he sat down at his desk with his laptop and began a thorough evaluation of his entire security plan until the rosy streaks colored the silvery dawn sky.

But his cup of happiness was full. In fact, it was overflowing.