Wolves at the Gate by Persephone Black

Author:Persephone Black [Black, Persephone]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

Scarlett

In response to my question, Lyssa just gives a grim smile. The whole drive back to the abandoned farm is tense and silent, her hands wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that her knuckles are white. An aura radiates off her, like the building pressure in the atmosphere before a storm finally breaks.

I watch her surreptitiously, feeling that familiar fear and thrill shivering through me—that intoxicating mix of terror and fascination I always get around the infamous Wolf. Because no matter how weirdly close we’ve become, I’ll never be able to shake the feeling that this woman is a predator through and through.

A beautiful, lethal monster in human skin. Just like me.

And I’m utterly entranced by her.

Wanting a monster. Wanting the monster to want me back.

When we finally pull up to the dilapidated old barn, Lyssa kills the engine but makes no move to get out. I shift in my seat, the soft susurration against the leather strangely loud. Lyssa’s shoulders are drawn up in a tight bunch.

“Are you…pissed at me?” I venture cautiously. “Because I get it, if you are. I never meant for you to put your life on the line like that for m⁠—”

“Goddamnit, Scarlett!” Lyssa explodes with a burst of furious laughter. When she turns to me, my heart stands still for a moment. Everything about her is a snarling threat—from the hard slash of her bared teeth to the flaring of her nostrils to the towering wildness of her rage.

It should terrify me…but it doesn’t. If anything, some shameful part of me thrills at seeing her like this.

“You think I’m angry at you?” Lyssa demands, her voice rough. “Jesus Christ, how can you be so fucking clueless?”

My mouth falls open in confusion. Because even as every sinew in Lyssa’s body screams menace, there’s a vulnerability shining through her eyes.

“Don’t you get it?” she says softly, the abrupt shift in her tone throwing me even more off-kilter.

She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans across the narrow gap separating us, crowding into my space. I shrink back against the door instinctively, but she keeps coming until her face is just inches from mine.

“Get…it?” I whisper hoarsely.

Lyssa’s hungry gaze drops to my parted lips, and understanding blooms inside me in a hot, insistent rush. “If you don’t want me to kiss you,” she murmurs, “now’s the time to say so.”

That’s what this is. Not rage, but wanting. Needing.

Lyssa wants me.

She needs me.

Maybe she even…

“Please kiss me,” I manage to say, and then Lyssa’s mouth is on mine, moving against my lips in a skilled and demanding, coaxing me open. One hand cups the back of my head, holding me in place as she angles her head for deeper access. I melt into her helplessly, clutch at the hard muscles of her shoulders.

It’s like a dam has burst inside me. All the weeks—hell, months—of tension and confusion and warring emotions crash together in desire and understanding. Desire for the woman devouring me with such wanton intensity. And understanding of my own soul-deep cravings, the yearning I’ve ignored for far too long.

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