Continued!

A sound tears from Elena’s throat—something between a laugh and a growl. “And you loved it. Don’t lie to me, Lila. I felt your cunt clench around my fingers every time I pulled it.” Her hand lifts, fingers curling as if she can still feel the weight of Lila’s submission in her palm. “I felt you beg.”

Lila’s breath hitches, her body reacting before her mind can stop it. Her cock stiffens, pressing against the fabric of her pants, her nipples tightening under her shirt. Fuck. She hates that Elena still has this effect on her. Hates that her body remembers even when her mind screams to forget.

“That wasn’t me,” she forces out, but the words taste like ash. Because it was her. It is her. Somewhere, deep down, in the places she doesn’t want to admit exist.

Elena’s gaze drops to Lila’s mouth, then lower, tracking the outline of her cock through the thin fabric. A slow, knowing smirk curls her lips. “No?” Her voice is a purr, dark and dangerous. “Then why are you hard for me right now, little one?”

Lila’s knees nearly buckle. Little one. The pet name slides under her skin like a knife, twisting deep. She should step back. She should run. But her hand is already lifting, her fingers trembling as they hover just above Elena’s shoulder. Not grabbing. Not pushing away. Just… there.

“Tell me,” Lila breathes, her lips brushing the delicate skin beneath Elena’s ear, “who are we now?”

The question hangs between them, fragile as glass. Elena’s breath stutters, her body tensing under Lila’s touch. For a second, Lila thinks she might pull away. Might laugh in her face. Might remind her that she’s the one who walked away, who chose this.

But then Elena’s hand snakes up, her fingers wrapping around the back of Lila’s neck, her grip firm but not cruel. Not like before. Different. “I don’t know,” she admits, her voice rough. “But I know I can’t fucking breathe without you.”

The confession cracks something open in Lila’s chest. She should be triumphant. She should gloat. But all she feels is the crushing weight of her own need, of the truth she’s been trying to outrun since the moment the serum left her veins.

She doesn’t know who they are now, either.

But as her hand finally settles on Elena’s shoulder, her fingers curling into the silk of her robe, she knows one thing for certain:

She isn’t ready to let go.