For Love and Blood and Fury (Lilith’s Legacy #1)

Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Even if Elena couldn’t sense Zuri on Marisol’s lips, she would have known about their kiss. The way Marisol was buzzing with the combination of desire for more and nerves about what Zuri might be thinking was intoxicating. A bright fragrance like citrus and salt breeze curled around her.

She ached to divulge that she knew. That she’d known the moment the three of them were together that there was an electric vibration to their proximity. But Zuri was still so angry at her and Marisol was at war with herself—caught between what she wanted and what her society told her was deviant and wrong.

As much as she detested holding back, she couldn’t push—couldn’t exert her influence—or it would crumble before taking shape. Rushing would most certainly backfire.

Disappointed she hadn’t been there to at least witness their kiss, Elena leaned back in Zuri’s hard as shit chair in her microscopic kitchen and watched Marisol. Marisol was standing at the stove, making something with eggs for the seven-hundredth time in a few days. Elena couldn’t remember people ever needing to eat so often.

“You’re making lunch?” Zuri was rubbing the sleep out of one bleary eye.

She’d spent all morning working with Marisol and had slept well into the afternoon when they returned. It was a testament to how hard she was pushing to unlock Marisol’s power, and Elena had to stop herself from acknowledging her effort.

“I made skillet eggs and herbs,” Marisol said when she turned toward Zuri, her eyes brimming with how badly she wanted her approval.

Predictably, Zuri gave her nothing but a rumbling sound in her throat before she started for the small pantry and pulled out a bottle of wine.

“I’m not a big drinker,” Marisol said when she and Zuri were sitting in front of their plates and all three of them had very generous pours of mediocre wine. Marisol’s attention shifted to Elena, the first time she’d made direct eye contact since she’d come back from what must have been quite the destabilizing kiss. “Do you have to drink every day?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Zuri answered before Elena could consider a very white and pleasurable lie. “At her age, she can go for months,” she added with a don’t-even-try-it glare at Elena.

“You used to be so much fun.” Leaning back, pain in her hip one level below agonizing, Elena laughed. “Need and want are such different things, aren’t they?”

The look that passed between Marisol and Zuri raised the temperature in the room. God, she was going to love being ganged up on.

When they were finished eating and Marisol had insisted on washing the dishes, they were back at the table, a second bottle of wine nearly empty. Zuri could drink more than a little wine before she was swaying, but Marisol’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy when she asked, “So what’s your body count?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know how many people she’s killed,” Zuri said before Elena could answer.

“Oh, God.” Marisol’s face ignited in a colorful display that obscured her freckles. “No, I meant how many people you’ve slept with,” she added like she regretted the moment she’d decided on a joke. “Sorry, never mind. I don’t even know why I asked that.”

Laughing, Elena swirled the wine in her glass before knocking it back. It hadn’t been made for savoring.

“I’ve had many lovers,” she admitted because she couldn’t possibly count them even if her memories weren’t still hazy. “I wasn’t a prude even before I turned,” she added with certainty. “Men, women, and everywhere and nowhere in between.” She leaned forward, holding a captivated Marisol in her gaze and loving how her pulse jumped in her neck at just the topic of sex. “But after a certain number, it’s a bit gauche to keep score.”

“Once she popped, she couldn’t stop,” Zuri joked, shoulders relaxed and giving Elena a reminder of how they used to be. How she used to be around her before it all slipped through their fingers.

Elena leaned closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Sex,” she said, her voice low, “is about power—control and surrender, pleasure and pain. A woman who understands that,” she added with a sly smile, “is unstoppable.” Elena took a slow sip of wine, savoring the taste as she watched Marisol’s reaction. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, darling,” she purred, her voice laced with a seductive challenge. “Embrace your desires and your power. Explore the depths of your sensuality. And never, ever apologize for it.”

“I—uh...” she stammered, unsure how to respond to Elena’s bold declaration.

Zuri, however, didn’t miss a beat. She leaned back in her chair, a slow smile spreading across her face. “She’s got a point somewhere in that over-the-top monologue,” she said, her voice laced with a sardonic amusement. “Sex as a woman, especially a queer woman—it’s practically a revolutionary act.” She lifted her hand, wiggling her fingers as if testing their flexibility. “And gods, have I protested.” She chuckled. “I’ve got the TMJ and early arthritis in one hand to show how much.”

Energy bright and electric, Zuri drained her glass before handing it to Elena to refill.

“We’re supposed to be ashamed of our desires, to hide them away, to pretend they don’t exist. But fuck that.” Zuri accepted the refilled glass. “I’m going to take what I want. I’m going to enjoy it. What anybody else thinks of that is not my problem.” She was already a little off kilter when she turned her gaze to Marisol, who looked so out of her depth she wished she’d never mentioned sex.

“What about you, Bambi?”

There was something about the way Zuri asked the question that told Elena she’d seen something in Marisol’s memories. Impatient, she almost pressed. Almost asked whether Zuri could take her into Marisol’s mind too, but she resisted. It was going to be so worth the wait.

“I had a serious girlfriend in nursing school,” she replied in a tone that made the statement sound more like a question. “I was kind of shy in high school and my first girlfriend and I didn’t exactly get beyond making out.” She shifted, her gaze dropping to the table. “And once I started working… I don’t know… I guess I didn’t have a lot of time.”

The little wholesome thing was Zuri’s turn on, but damn it if there wasn’t something about Marisol that Elena wanted to devour. It wasn’t her lack of experience, but rather the thumping curiosity dying to break from her. There was a fire in her desperate to find oxygen to consume. And Elena wanted her to destroy continents with all that hidden power.

Unsure why she wanted to quell the suffocating self-consciousness that had tightened Marisol’s body and curled her inward, Elena waved her hand in the air.

“Chastity is a human construct, and one if its most nefarious. It is a cage built to confine you, to limit you, to keep you from realizing your full potential.” She leaned forward, her gaze intense. “Virginity, innocence, these are just words, weapons designed to make you feel ashamed, to keep you from claiming your power.” She shook her head. “Men wage wars over this power,” she said, her voice rising with a fierce intensity. “They destroy their souls, their empires, their very humanity, just for a taste of what we possess.” She gestured to Zuri and then to Marisol, her smile turning predatory. “They crave it, they worship it, they fear it. And for good reason.”

Elena’s voice softened, taking on a hypnotic quality. “If women woke up all at once,” she whispered, her eyes locking with Marisol’s, “if they realized the true extent of their power, the world would crumble at their feet. They would bring empires to their knees, shatter the chains of inequity, and remake the world in their image.”

Zuri clapped sarcastically before turning to Marisol. “And what she means by that soliloquy is that it doesn’t matter who you’ve slept with or haven’t.” She flashed Elena a lopsided grin she so wanted to bite. “She loves to hear herself talk. You’d think she was the one who pretended to be a man to fight in wars rather than Librada. Can’t you see her leading a pack of idiots to their bloody ends?”

When Marisol laughed, it ignited Elena’s entire being. And then Marisol’s eyes were drifting from Zuri and back to her. Reminding Elena of the woman who’d kissed her in the hospital despite the risks.

Elena watched the exchange, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. They were on the verge of something electric. They were a breath away from Marisol’s whispered plea to be ruined.