20. Lyssa

We makeit out of the car, into the barn, but Scarlett gets only a few rungs up the ladder before the sight of that gorgeous bare ass is just too much. I grab her hips and make her turn around on the ladder, throw one of her thighs over my shoulder, and put my mouth where it's been wanting to be since we drove out of Elysium—right on that sweet, wet pussy.

Scarlett groans, one hand flying down to grip my hair. She's still sensitive from the car but I can't slow down, licking and sucking her hot, swollen clit as she squirms and moans above me, her other leg wrapping around my neck now, too.

"Oh, God, Lyssa..." I glance up to see she's white-knuckling the ladder rungs now, and I slide two fingers into her slick center, lashing her clit with my tongue until she cries out. Her thighs clamp around my head and I increase the tempo, fucking her relentlessly with my fingers and mouth until she comes again with a long, loud moan, and I'm rewarded with a renewed flood of her ambrosia.

I gently lower her legs back to the ladder and stand back, smirking up at her as she sags against the ladder, chest heaving.

"Think you can make it up now?" I tease.

Scarlett narrows her eyes at me, still catching her breath. "Stop talking and get up here so I can put my tongue in you."

I can hardly turn down an invitation like that.

A little later, when we're both come-happy and exhausted, Scarlett still snuggles close to me, her naked body a delicious mix of soft curves and lean muscle. The dim glow from the lantern highlights the sheen of sweat gilding those graceful slopes and valleys. She's so lovely like this—loose-limbed and sated, those full lips slightly parted on quiet pants as she tries to catch her breath.

And despite how happy I am, despite having the most beautiful woman in the world here, naked, in my arms, my mind drifts to another.

Hadria.

We were incredibly lucky to leave Elysium alive. I owe Suzy big time, because Hadria was working up to something bad.

Something terrible.

And I feel the pain of the savage, near-severing blow our friendship has suffered. I don't want it to be that way, I want to make it up to her—to the Syndicate—but…

I want Scarlett, too.

Want Scarlett more.

That's the really shocking thing to me. That there could be something in this world I love more than my family in the Syndicate. I trail my fingers up the elegant curve of Scarlett's spine as I ponder, and she shivers, rolling those haunting hazel eyes my way with a look that's one part contentment, one part query.

"So," she murmurs. "Do I still need to watch my back around you?"

The words jar me from the tender moment as effectively as a slap to the face. "What do you mean?"

"You follow orders," she states, simple and matter-of-fact. "Are you still planning to follow the order to kill me?"

I stare at her for a long beat. "Doesn't the fact I stepped in when Hadria was trying to kill you show you what my thoughts on that matter are?"

Scarlett searches my face with that uncanny, too-perceptive stare of hers. "The thing is, Lyssa..." she says softly, without heat or judgment. Just quiet resignation. "What happens when we go back? Because we're going back to Elysium when this is over. You said we would."

"I'm not going to let them kill you." It comes out immediately, no thought needed.

"But—"

"Scar," I sigh, "maybe you should look at actions rather than words."

That's the only solid, tangible proof I have to show where my allegiances truly lie. Whether Scarlett chooses to put faith in that proof…well, that's up to her.

She she sits up and wraps her arms around her knees.

"Look, we don't have time to waste on brooding," I try. "We need to get on with our mission."

Scarlett looks at me over her shoulder. "And what happens when the mission is done?"

"For fuck's sake," I snap, sitting up to make her turn and face me. "I won't let the Syndicate harm you, and I—I don't expect you to come back with me to Elysium, either."

Surely that's the end of it. Surely she'll drop this agonizing line of questioning and refocus on the mission.

"That's not what I meant," she says softly. She scoots away from me and gets up to pull on her underwear. "But like you said, we should get on with the job."

It would be so much easier to let her shut down completely, to let professional detachment swallow us both. Less messy. Less raw.

Less fucking complicated.

But I can't do it. Not anymore. So, cursing every wall I ever built up inside myself that now makes this so goddamn hard, I slide up behind Scarlett and pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my lips to her shoulder.

And then I mumble the words I need to say.

"What?" She goes still in my arms, then turns around to face me. "What did you just say?"

I swallow the sigh. Why does this have to be such a big deal? She knows exactly what I said, and I know exactly what she wanted to say in the car…

But I repeat it.

Because it needs to be said.

"I love you. I love you, Scarlett, so I'm not going to let anyone kill you, least of all me. And as for what happens after the mission, after Grandmother is gone…" I give a helpless shrug. "I want to be with you. Whatever else happens, I know that much."

Scarlett reaches up, her fingertips sliding across my cheek in a tender caress, and then she smiles, wide and generous. "Why is it so hard to say?" she asks wistfully. "I wanted to say it before, in the car, but…"

"Because everything Grandmother did to us was supposed to teach us that love didn't exist. That it was a lie, something to use to exploit people."

Her eyes, those twin forest pools, darken. "But she was wrong, Lyssa. And nothing she does now can change the fact that I love you, too."

I'm surprised at how hard the words hit when I actually hear them. "You're…sure?"

"Surer than I've ever been about anything." She leans in to kiss me, soft and sweet, and when she pulls away, my eyes are stinging.

But Scarlett has turned back to business. "But you're right," she says. "Our priority is stopping Grandmother for once and for all, so she can never again do what she did to you and to me and to…to Sarah. We can't let her do it to anyone else. We have to take her down for good."

But there was something in there that made my eyebrows shoot up. "You've changed your tune about Sarah. Don't you still want your vengeance?"

She looks down, eyes troubled. "I thought I knew all there was to know about how bad the world could be. How much suffering one person could inflict on others. But what happened to her—what Grandmother did to Sarah—" Scarlett's voice fractures on the name. "She's just another broken girl," she says at last. "All this time, I thought she was a deranged monster, hardly better than Grandmother. When in reality..."

Her throat works convulsively, like she's choking on the horror of it. And I feel exactly the same way.

"In reality, monsters are made," I agree quietly. "And they can be unmade, too." I slide my palm to the nape of Scarlett's neck, squeezing firmly in a show of solidarity. "But when it comes to Grandmother, she ran out of chances long ago. That monster, we put out of its misery."

"You're damn right. So where do we start?"

I give a crooked smile. "We start with a slice of cherry pie."