40. Laszlo
“Lyn? Oh, fuck, Lyn?”
She was as white as a sheet, staring at the ceiling of her office, and for a second, I thought she was dead. Her skin had taken on a sickly blue, and it was nearly as cool as mine when I grabbed for her pulse.
She yanked her arm away, staring at me with fear. I stumbled backwards at the intensity of it. She hadn’t looked at me that way since that night in the rain, when the truck was following her. When she thought I was someone else.
And just as it had then, when she realized it was me, it dripped away from her. I rushed her into my arms, ushered her onto the antique couch in her office, and she slumped into it.
“He called, didn’t he?”
“Mhm.” It was so quiet, but she clung to me with uncanny strength.
“Fuck. Fuck, I wanted to be here for it.”
“It’s okay,” she lied.
I kissed her temple, and she softened, the shock wearing off.
“It was that bad?”
“I don’t know. I… Yes. He told me he loves me.”
That manipulative fucking bastard.
I had restrained myself for Lyn’s sake, because she didn’t want to hurt him. Hurting him would mean hurting her mother, her friends, the people she grew up with. She ran away from them, but family was a complicated thing.
Seeing her shaken, I wish I’d drained his account dry when I had the chance. I’d been an obedient husband, but they’d have to be neutered. A financial blow would hamstring their recruitment attempts at least.
I squeezed her into me. Didn’t disagree with her, didn’t force her to continue, but eventually she did.
“It’s strange.”
“Hm?”
“I wanted all my life to hear him say that. But in the wrong hands, love is just another weapon.”
The deadliest weapon, even in the right hands. What I was about to do to avenge my sister was proof of that. What I would do to protect Lyn was proof of that.
“It can be.”
She hummed, resting her head on my shoulder.
“It can serve a purpose, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he hadn’t been so cruel to me growing up, I never would have run away. Never would have met you. Would you change your past, if it meant we’d never…?”
My throat constricted.
It wasn’t a hypothetical I wanted to indulge in.
The pain of my past was a spectre, haunting me every single day. She chased the demons away, but still they’d come back. The nightmares had become more manageable, the hard edges of my anger sheathed.
If I could change the past, spare Lilien her pain? Save her?
Save myself from the abuse?
But at the cost of never knowing Lyn?
I kissed her temple.
“The riverbed guided our streams together. I believe that, no matter how the past might change, our currents would have always found a way to converge.”
She smiled, remembering her own words to me, from what felt like a lifetime ago.
The thing she’d said to settle my soul, to heal the tattered fragments of my psyche.
I’d found comfort in it then, and gifted her that same comfort back.
She softened into me, and finally inhaled a deep, cleansing breath.
When she exhaled, her pain dulled.
“Did he say anything about the eclipse?”
“No. Just that it was time for me to marry Henry.”
“You’re mine,” I growled, and she let out a one-note laugh.
She stroked my chest, her fingers playing with the pearl buttons on my black, cotton shirt.
“That’s what he said.”
I cringed at the thought that I was anything like that man, and she sensed my unsettled state, popping a button through a hole.
“I like when you say it.”
“Lyn,” I said, placing my hand on hers, holding her palm to my chest. “You’re upset.”
“I know.”
Her blue eyes flicked up, met mine, her sclera bloodshot.
Her delicate skin was splotchy, ruddy from her tears, her pain.
I hated that she’d been left to stew in it, but how was she still the most breathtaking woman I’d ever seen?
I’d spent countless evenings staring at her in awe, and my appreciation never waned.
Her finger forced another button through a hole, then another.
“Dexterous little girl.”
“Gotta be dexterous to do what I do,” she grinned, planting a kiss on my tattooed chest.
Her kisses went lower, and I stroked the back of her hair. Her hand grazed over my cock, and as if by magic, she summoned blood to it.
“Did you ever talk to your therapist about how you deal with stress?” I asked.
A wicked grin twisted her lips and her laugh was the perfect mixture of amusement and disapproval.
“Have you talked to your therapist about how I deal with stress?”
“Mmm, nope, never caused me any distress.”
“Then shut up.”
My mouth opened, but only a moan came out as her hand pressed against my cock, and she rubbed me until I ached. She slipped off the couch, and I watched as she began to unzip the side of her fitted pink dress.
Her wedding ring caught the light, her rhodolite necklace below her protective crystal, nestled between her clavicle. She looked complete wearing it.
Lyn unhooked her bra, dangling it from a finger before letting it fall to the ground. She leaned forward, her index finger pressing up on my jaw, closing my gaping mouth.
When she went to lower her panties, I grabbed her wrist, and she lifted a brow in curiosity.
“Leave them on.” I pulled her onto the couch, kneeling in front of her. Her legs spread for me, and I traced up the stockings on her calves, over the lace tops, cupping her bare ass as I pulled her into me.
My nose followed her slit, separated by the pink silk panties. She smelled delicious.
“My love for you is dangerous,” I said, kissing her sensitive inner thigh. Her hand went to my shoulder, squeezing it.
“I like your version of dangerous.”
“You’ve seen a hint of the darkness, Lyn, but you need to know. When we get to that mansion, I can’t promise to be the man you think you know.”
My tongue skirted the edge of her panties, teasing her.
“You’ll always be the man I know,” she said, stroking my hair. “I haven’t seen all your facets, but I’m the only one that gets to see the colour behind the onyx.”