The journey back to Carmen's was quiet and uneventful. By the time they arrived, tempers had somewhat abated, although Rémy still had a violent mélange of emotions radiating off him – anger, sorrow, betrayal, guilt.
He didn't so much as utter a word as they entered through the main door, the man bee-lining for the bar. Carmen recognized that look he was wearing all too well, and before he could reach her, she already had a generous shot of her special whiskey waiting for him. He knocked it back angrily before slamming the glass down, eyes demanding another. She obeyed while sending Frankie a questioning look. The woman nodded her head to confirm that things had been taken care of, to which the Spaniard only shrugged, sighing quietly as Rémy knocked back the second shot. He gripped the edge of the counter, clearly struggling with whatever was brewing inside of him.
His fangs were still out, eyes glowing a feral blue, the empty glass in his hand.
With a growl that gave way to a furious shout, he chucked the glass across the room, barking Danny's name as it shattered.
Danny emerged from the back seconds later.
"We have an appointment we need to keep," was all the man said, still fuming. Frankie sent her brother's friend an apologetic look, but he only shrugged – as if he had been anticipating this. The two left moments later, Rémy slamming the door shut behind him.
When they were gone, the atmosphere in the room visibly shifted, becoming lighter as everyone – even Vlad – sighed in relief.
Damon and Vesper, who had been quietly throwing knives at a target on one of the walls before the commotion had set in, continued their practice while Frankie, Lyra, and Carmen all exchanged knowing gazes.
"Why don't you head into the back," the latter said. "I'll get some blood for us to drink. Damon? Can you clean up the glass?"
"Sure thing!"
"Vesper – the sun will be rising soon. You can practice for thirty more minutes and then you need to head upstairs and get ready for bed."
The teenager mumbled her acknowledgement.
"So, I take it by that display that things didn't go very well?" Carmen then called out as she placed four tumblers and a bottle of blood on a tray, following after Vlad, Lyra, and Frankie as they made their way into the war room.
"Oh, it went well enough," Lyra managed. "Jacob was a saint. Rémy was his usual asshole self," and she plopped into one of the chairs, putting her feet up on the table, eyes carefully shifting back and forth between Frankie and Vlad who sat next to each other but made a point to not be too close. "I assume you're totally lost in all this, Leinhart?" she called out.
Vlad shrugged.
"I'm growing accustomed to the sensation," he admitted lightly. "Things have a habit of revealing themselves sooner or later, anyway."
The look he sent Francesca made Lyra's eyes narrow in suspicion, though she kept her questions to herself.
Carmen started to pour the drinks, chuckling at the man's comments.
"For my part, I admire your forbearance," she announced, handing him a glass. "Lesser men would have given up on us ages ago."
He offered her a nod of thanks, but no words as he drank deep.
"Well Lyra, do you want to give him the details, or shall I?" Carmen asked, but the redhead still had her eyes on Frankie.
"I think Frankie should explain that one," she replied, the woman in question having already downed her helping of blood in a single go, now studying the empty glass with a look of disappointment. It took Francesca a moment to realize her friend had even said anything, and when she noticed all of the eyes now on her, she sighed heavily.
"I need to feed," she muttered mostly to herself.
"I can go get someone for you," Lyra offered, already standing.
"I'll go with you," Carmen exclaimed almost a little too eagerly, but one look from the redhead had her sitting back down. Lyra's eyes had shifted between Frankie and Vlad before her gaze returned to the Spaniard with an expression that seemed to say don't leave those two alone. "Or not..."
"You stay and make sure she doesn't leave any important details out," Lyra answered lamely. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
While Carmen topped Frankie off with another glass, Vlad took the opportunity to send Lyra Kennedy a disapproving look, to which the woman merely smirked, pointing to her eyes and then to him.
I'm watching you.
Then she was gone.
Frankie, naturally, missed the exchange, nursing her glass for a moment or two before leaning back in her chair, releasing a heavy sigh.
"Jacob Šarić was a friend of my Aunt Cecilia's family," she began after a moment of deliberation. "Venetian nobility. He was originally intended for my cousin, Alayna. His family would have him visit us every summer in France when we were all growing up. We always considered him part of the family, even before he married into it. But as time went on, it became clear that he had no real interest in Alayna, nor she in him."
"He was more interested in your sister," Vlad stated.
She nodded.
"Their bond was impossible to ignore – even when they were children. When they both came of age, Armand released Jacob from his engagement to Alayna and my father gave his blessing for him to marry Margot instead."
Frankie paused, a rueful smile on her face.
"I'll readily admit that I've balked at the idea of soul mates my entire life, but those two... it was the real thing," she explained, a fondness in her expression as the memories flitted across her mind. "They were like twin flames – as if they had been made for each other, molded from the same stuff. And he worshipped her, loved her with the kind of depth and passion the likes of which I've never seen since – not ever. When she died, he was utterly destroyed."
A shadow passed over her face.
"That's when his magic first appeared – in the depth of his grief. And it terrified him. It was Rémy who talked him off the ledge those years that followed; Rémy who was there for him for all of it – every step of the way. And it was Rémy who convinced him to become a vampire like the rest of us."
She emptied the contents of her glass, though the blood did little to quell the rumbling of her stomach. She placed the empty tumbler on the table in front of her.
"So what happened? What changed their relationship?" Vlad asked.
"Jacob had been working with Lyra for decades, helping her unlock her own gifts, teaching her how to use and control them, how to cope with the weight of the magic. But Lyra's abilities are..." She paused, looking to Carmen for help.
"Scary as fuck?" the woman offered behind her glass. Frankie smirked a little.
"She's a lot more powerful than she realizes and it terrifies her the same why it used to terrify Jacob. It got to the point where even he wasn't really sure how to help her anymore. She doesn't like to use her magic, and while Jake has always been really good about helping her when it comes to siphoning it off when she lets it aggregate for too long, a decade ago their efforts just weren't cutting it anymore. They needed help. So he turned to the covens for guidance."
Carmen muttered an unsavory oath under her tongue.
"Unfortunately, they had no interest in helping Lyra. When they realized what he was – a natural born magic wielder, and not just any, but a gealach prince..."
"A what?"
"It's a fancy title for witch royalty," Carmen explained. "A witch born under a full moon on the longest night of the year. Male witches – or warlocks, depending on how you like your tea – are incredibly rare, especially the kind with his sort of power, honed and perfected over centuries. Completely unheard of."
"When they found out what he was, what sort of untapped potential he had..."
"And how that could be used for their own benefit..."
"Let's just say that they took full advantage of his trusting nature," Frankie said.
"So what happened?"
"The short version? Jacob knew how much I struggled with my blood rage and wanted to see if he could use some of the new power he was tapping into to, to fix me. But the covens had him using dark magic – blood magic and necromancy. Not that the two are inherently evil, but it's very easy to be seduced and turned if you aren't careful. And he wasn't careful. And because I was selfish and desperate to be cured, I didn't ask questions when I should have and he ended up casting a spell that not only forced out the emergence of my demon, but the covens were able to wield me as a weapon."
"For how long?"
"Long enough to do some serious damage, which – but some miracle – Augustine never picked up on. But when Rémy found out what Jacob had unwittingly done..."
"If you thought he was pissed earlier..." Carmen began, but her voice trailed off into a whistle.
"He tried to stop the witches and in the process, nearly got himself killed. I nearly killed him. It was enough to sober Jake up, but the damage had already been done."
"And he blamed your brother-in-law for what happened?" Vlad clarified.
"That wasn't even what set him off," Carmen interjected.
"I had never seen Rémy so angry," Frankie admitted with soberness. "He and Lyra have butted heads plenty of times, but the way he was with Jake that night..." She shook her head as if trying to dispel the memory. "Jake nearly killed him in his rage and if it hadn't been for Lyra stepping in at the last second, he would have succeeded. That's when Rémy drew the line in the sand... and we didn't see Jake again for a long time after."
"Lyra kept in touch, of course," Carmen added. "Helped him detox..."
"But Rémy wanted nothing to do with him."
"I suppose that explains his reaction at the hotel, then," Dracula said after a moment, finishing off his drink.
"What reaction?"
"Rémy tried to put his fist through Jake's face... twice," Frankie explained. The Spaniard chuckled.
"I suppose I can't blame him."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the alley door opening, the handle knocking loudly against the wall, announcing Lyra's return – and with her, some nameless lowlife in tow. She entered the room without ceremony, the unconscious vagabond draped over her shoulder, hands and feet crudely tied up. She dropped him on the ground in the center of the room as if he were no more than trash.
"Supper's ready!"
"That was quick," Carmen replied, but Frankie's eyes were already glowing in bloodlust.
"Do I want to know?" she asked.
"Dhampir. Picked him up at that brothel a few blocks away. He likes to hit young girls..." and the redhead lifted his bound hands to show her his cracked and skinned knuckles as evidence. "Figured no one would miss him."
Lyra then looked to the Vlad, the man returning her suspicious glare.
"It's late," she said. "Shouldn't you get going?"
"Lyra..." Frankie warned, but Vlad was already standing.
"No, she's right. Besides, I need to get something to eat myself before I head home." He looked to Carmen. "I assume we're all to meet here this evening after sundown?"
"Yes. Elina left us with a lot of footage to comb through. We'll need all the extra eyes we can get."
"Then I'll see you tonight." He finally allowed his eyes to drift over to Francesca. Her irises were still glowing, fangs out, yet she remained poised, seated in her chair – though he knew perfectly well given their moment in the elevator earlier just how hungry she was. "It was nice to see you for more than five minutes today," he said, not caring that the others were present.
Let them think what they wanted.
Frankie smiled.
"Yes it was."
"About what you said earlier – about getting in contact with Dracula..."
"We'll discuss it tonight," she assured him. "Go home and get some rest."
There was a long moment of silence between them, their gazes never faltering.
Frankie wished more than anything that they could be alone – even for just a few minutes. She was starving, yes, but she craved a kiss from him more than she did the fresh blood coursing through the veins of the unconscious dhampir on the floor. But Lyra and Carmen hadn't budged and she had a sneaking suspicion the former of the two had little intention of leaving any time soon. And so Frankie stood, contenting herself by placing a hand on his arm.
It wasn't enough, but it was contact, and it seemed to impact him the same way it did her.
The need in his eyes was agonizing.
But at last he bid her good day and left the room.
The moment he was gone, Lyra shut and locked the door behind her, positioning herself in front of it, arms crossed.
"Eat," she said a bit forcefully. "And when you're done, you spill."
"You're not going to let me feed in privacy?" Frankie replied with an arched brow.
The redhead balked.
"And let you sneak out when you're done? I wasn't born yesterday, Chase."
Carmen was already pulling out a sheet of plastic from one of the cupboards, laying it out on the floor so Frankie could lift the man onto the tarp. Lyra remained stationed at the door as the brunette kneeled over the unconscious man, only looking away after Frankie had sunk her fangs into his neck. He didn't even stir.
"How hard did you hit him?" Carmen asked, moving to lean up against the door next to Lyra.
"Probably a little harder than I should have," the woman admitted. "He fucking had it coming, though."
The Spaniard chuckled, the two looking on as Francesca continued to feed.
"You've always had a talent for locating the ones that have it coming."
"Asshole radar. It comes in handy."
They both waited patiently for Francesca to finish and when at last she was done, Carmen stood guard by the door while Lyra dragged the drained corpse out into the hall, making sure to keep him on the plastic sheet. She shouted for Damon before reentering the room, shutting and locking the door again behind her, a hair of a smile on her face when she heard the man swear as he entered the hall.
"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed, but then he was grumbling to himself as he disposed of the body without further argument.
When he was gone, Lyra motioned for the table.
"Have a seat, missy," she said to Frankie. Francesca rolled her eyes even as she obeyed, situating herself on top of the table just to make a point of being stubborn. When she was comfortable, Lyra and Carmen returned to their chairs. "All right then. Spill. How long has Leinhart been balls deep in you?"
Carmen choked on air as Frankie sent her best friend a wry look.
"Not that it's any of your business, but he only got knuckle deep once, so you have nothing to worry about," she answered, completely deadpan.
Carmen was still chuckling, though even she looked a little surprised at her answer.
"Seriously?" Lyra asked, not buying it for a second. "You two haven't fucked yet?"
"I was certain something had happened in France...." the Spaniard added.
Frankie merely shrugged.
"We kissed. That's all."
The redhead's eyes narrowed.
"I don't buy it. I saw you two in the elevator earlier when we were over at Jake's..."
"What happened?" Carmen asked.
Lyra grinned.
"They looked like they were going to jump each other's bones."
The Spaniard cackled at that.
"I'm not denying that the desire to – you know," and Frankie sent them both a look they immediately understood. "Trust me. It's definitely there, but it's too dangerous."
"Too dangerous how?"
Her meaningful expression was enough.
The redhead swore in response.
"You mean your demon wants to fuck him too?"
"Oh, it wants to do a lot more than that," Frankie admitted, shifting a little.
"Shit. No wonder I could cut the tension between you two with the blunt edge of a knife. The pair of you are as repressed as a couple of virgin nuns in a convent!"
"I think they're somehow a little better adjusted than I am at the moment..." she said with a hollow chuckle.
"Is there really no way around the whole blood-rage thing?" Carmen asked, hope in her tone.
"Yeah!" Lyra agreed. "I mean, he could be kinda into it if you told him to tie you down first and then..."
"The thought has crossed my mind more than once," Frankie confessed, interrupting before her friend could get too far, "but he has demons of his own that he has a hard enough time reining in."
"Bloodlust?" Carmen guessed.
"Bingo."
Lyra leaned back in her seat as if the wind had been pulled out of her sails, exhaling loudly.
"Fuck, Frankie... that really fucking blows."
"You're telling me. But that's not even the half of it..."
"What do you mean?"
Frankie didn't answer right away.
Instead, she let the silence linger in the air for nearly a minute, elbows resting on her knees as she studied her two closest friends.
"What I'm about to tell you does not leave this room," she began.
"Obviously," Lyra said without missing a beat, but that clearly wasn't enough for the woman, because she continued.
"I mean it. You don't tell anyone – especially Rémy. Not a hint, not a word, not even so much as a suggestion. Do you understand?"
"Would you like to invoke the right of sire?" the redhead teased, but the look she received had her smile slipping. "Shit... okay, Frankie. Yes, I swear – not a word."
Francesca turned to Carmen and the woman only nodded.
Frankie then took a deep breath, steadying herself.
"Dracula's in the city."
Lyra sat up at that news, but Carmen didn't even flinch.
"What? How do you know?" Lyra asked.
"Because I've seen him. We've been in contact."
"For how long?"
"Over a year."
Lyra stood up.
"What?"
"That's not all. He's already a trusted ally of the alliance."
"A trusted ally... how? None of us have even seen him, let alone met him!"
"Actually, you have," Frankie replied, keeping her voice down. "Vladislaus Drăculea is actually Vlad Leinhart."
Lyra Kennedy went white as a ghost as her knees buckled, her ass falling back into her seat.
She swore loudly, practically shouting her exclamation, eyes wide in disbelief.
Damon, who had overheard the commotion, shouted from the front room, asking if everything was okay, leaving Carmen to momentarily excuse herself to assure the man that all was well. Lyra, meanwhile, continued to struggle with the revelation, her mind visibly racing as she started to connect the dots.
"Holy shit..." she kept saying when Carmen returned to her seat. "HOLY SHIT!"
But Frankie was more intrigued by Carmen's noted lack of a reaction, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"You knew," she said pointedly and the Spaniard, smiling in amusement, nodded. "How long?"
"Before the incident at the blood factory," she explained, trying not to laugh at the horror on Lyra's face. "It was an accident."
"YOU KNEW, AND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?" the redhead boomed.
"He made me swear not to – invoked the right of sovereign over me and everything, so I didn't have much of a choice in the matter."
Frankie frowned at that.
"He shouldn't have done that. You would have stayed discrete."
"Yes, well, he doesn't trust me the way that you do," Carmen defended.
"So wait – how long have you known?" Lyra then asked Frankie. The latter took another deep breath.
"The night after we visited Scarlet – when Rémy met with Aldrick."
"I FUCKING KNEW IT! That's why you told him to stay away," Lyra exclaimed, finally putting all of the pieces together.
"Actually, who he was had little to do with that. It had more to do with what was developing between us. It scared the shit out of me."
"What exactly happened that night after we returned from Scarlet?" Carmen asked.
"We kissed." Lyra actually squealed like a schoolgirl. "A lot."
"YES! I knew I wasn't crazy!" she said, practically shouting, but then she made a point to lower her voice, though her excitement never waned. "Christ, this is so fucking validating. I want details. Tell us everything!"
And so she did.
Frankie told them about the event in the cellar, of the dream she had had that following morning. She told them of her meeting with Bernardini, the incident at the subway when she had told Vlad to stay away. She told them about how those eight months without him had been absolute hell, about the dreams she had had during his absence, the visitation from Mariella, and how seeing him again when he returned earlier that summer had only confirmed to her that she didn't have it in her to stay away, even though she knew being blood-bound was out of the question. She told them about their fight in the blood factory when he had faced her demon, about the time she had showered with him in Bernardini's flat, about the lion brand on his chest and the effortless chemistry between them. She told them about France, about the time they had spent together and the revelation about what she was – lamian strigoi. She also told them about the kissing, the training, the conversations... how she had shared a bed with him for weeks before her brother found out.
And then she told them the truth about what the last three weeks had been like for her – how Rémy's suspicion and forced separation was torture for her and Vlad, and how she nearly lost it in the elevator when they had gone to visit Jacob.
When she was done, Lyra and Carmen had fallen silent, taking it all in – a rapt and attentive audience now digesting the information they had received.
It was Carmen who spoke first.
"Have you two talked about the prophecy at all? Have you even addressed that you both know who the other is?"
"Not explicitly, no," Frankie admitted. "It's been an unspoken understanding between us for months now, but we've yet to discuss it outright... and we need to. Soon. Especially with the latest developments of the last twenty-four hours."
"No shit," was all Lyra had to say.
Another minute of pregnant silence filled the room.
"I've spent so much of my life afraid," Francesca confessed with some deliberation. "Alphonse broke me, and for centuries, I've struggled to put my pieces back together. I've tried to be strong, emotionally grounded, secure in myself – and I've had moments – but I've never felt whole." Tears began to glisten at her lower lash line, a small smile curving her lips. "But those weeks in France with Vlad... it's the closest I've ever come to feeling normal; truly, genuinely normal. I know that there's no way to fix my blood or cure my blood rage – but when I'm with him, I can't help but hope."
She paused, flicking away the tears before they could fall down her cheeks. She laughed out a shuddering breath as she continued.
"I used to tell myself that Eduardo had mended me after he turned me, but I think I've always known deep down that that was a lie. He gave me the tools to cope with being broken – a flimsy bandage over an infected wound – but I still lacked what I needed to change, to tap into my true, authentic self, my potential. I've spent so long in fragments, I think it's safe to say that I didn't even know what I was capable of, who I could become. But Vlad... Vladislaus... he sees me."
She didn't bother to wipe away that tears that streamed down her cheeks that time.
"He doesn't pick and choose what parts of me to love or accept. Even when we treated each other abominably at the start, I think he was just trying to peel back the layers, pushing my buttons so he could get to the heart of me, beyond the masks and the pretense. He wanted to see me, not the façade I'd been wearing for centuries. And when he saw it, he didn't run."
Frankie wiped the rusting streaks from her face.
"Every time he's born witness to my fear, he's never once condemned me. When he met my demon, he never shrank. And when he saw the power inside me, this thing I'm destined to become, he didn't turn away. He gets under my skin so damn easily... but he also steadies me. His acceptance of who I am – broken pieces and all... it made me love him."
She paused, realizing what she had said and she brought a trembling hand over her mouth as she uttered the words again.
"I love him."
The truth of it rippled through her and somewhere deep inside her she could sense her demon, her dark passenger, rejoicing at the confession.
"When I told him to leave," she continued, "that time when I needed space to sort through my own feelings – he respected my wishes. When he returned and I told him I wanted to be friends, I knew he hated the idea, but he accepted it, never once pushing me for more."
"And when he learned about your blood rage, he never once saw you as broken or as some kind of monster to be feared," Carmen revealed, her own eyes glistening. "He said you were magnificent."
A shuddering cry escaped Frankie that time as she pulled her knees closer to her, struggling to maintain her composure, but Carmen and Lyra were already moving to sit on the table on either side of her – pillars of strength and support.
"Not to mention the fact that he dedicated weeks of his vacation just to train with you, to help you feel more stable, more grounded in yourself...I guess that means I can't be pissy with him anymore," Lyra interjected, earning a laugh from Frankie in spite of her tears. A comfortable silence lingered for a spell, the three women lost in their own private musings. "I hate to say it, but Dracula is turning out to be a lot better than I ever gave him credit for."
"No kidding," Carmen agreed. "I actually feel kind of bad for thinking so poorly of him."
"We had no idea," Lyra replied. "None of us did."
"And that's not to say that the man is perfect," Frankie quickly clarified. "Because he's certainly not. He has his own past and demons just like I do."
"Yeah, but you wouldn't want him to be perfect anyway, so long as he's perfect for you," the redhead pointed out with a knowing grin. "Flaws and quirks are what makes people interesting, anyway." She paused suddenly, considering something. "Although, now that I say that – I guess this means I need to take back my previous judgments about the Dracul Sânge, too?"
"I don't think I ever could have warmed so quickly to him had it not been for them," Francesca admitted.
"Wait... so he still doesn't know that they're alive?" Carmen inquired.
"No," Frankie shook her head. "And he can't. Not until Jacob and I can find a way to break the blood hex first. I hate having to keep that from him, but I don't have a choice." She suddenly shot up, eyes going wide. "Which reminds me – Damon now knows about the Dracul Sânge. If he says something to Vlad..."
"I'll take care of that," Carmen assured her, patting her knee.
Frankie visibly relaxed at that.
"Thank you."
"So I guess the question now is when do we tell your brother?" Lyra said with a sigh, leaning back on her hands.
"We don't," Francesca answered immediately, the urgency in her voice taking her friend by surprise. "Vlad will reveal himself when he's ready to, and in the meantime, he's clearly trying to make things work with me first without everyone else's expectations and input getting in the way – which, of course, has been rather challenging lately since Rémy has taken it into his head to make it as difficult as humanly possible for us to spend even a minute alone together."
"We can take care of your brother," Carmen insisted, looking over at Lyra who nodded.
"Oh, absolutely. Distracting him should be easy enough – especially with Jacob coming back and all the shit that's about to go down with Marcus and Basilio. Between the two of us, we can keep him plenty busy."
"I'd appreciate it... especially since I still need to talk to Vlad and get us both on the same page. We can't keep dancing around the elephant in the room – not with what lies ahead of us," Frankie replied, earning nods of agreement from both her friends.
"Any idea how you're going to start that particular conversation?" Lyra asked.
"Not yet. But I have think of something... and soon."
"Maybe you should talk to that Bernardini guy," Carmen suggested. "Get an insider's thoughts on the matter?"
"That's not a bad idea," she admitted. "I don't know when I'll be able to get over there, but I'll think about it. In the meantime though, if you could both keep Rémy distracted, I'd appreciate it."
"Piece of cake," Lyra announced. "Your brother's already as blind as a bat. My money says he wouldn't have even been suspicious of you two had Gigi not said something."
Frankie laughed.
"It's true," Carmen conceded. "As much as I love the man, he's bloody oblivious."
"I don't know – I think I sensed some jealousy from him when you opted to stay behind this evening to spend time with Damon," Lyra said with a lewd wink.
"Which reminds me!" Frankie exclaimed. "When the hell did that happen?"
"It's nothing serious," the Spaniard insisted, though not even she could hide the blush in her cheeks. "It's more like a booty call without the actual need to make a call. He's just... there."
"You know, I'm impressed, Guillermo. I didn't think you had it in you."
"Oh, I'm still not convinced I do. Damon knows I'm pining for Rémy like a fool, but thankfully he doesn't judge me for it."
"Jesus, where did all these nice men come from all of a sudden and where can I get one?" Lyra replied, lying back on the table, her legs dangling over the edge. "So when are you and Dracula going to start fucking, Frank?" she blurted out a beat later. Francesca laughed. "I'm totally serious. I want to know if the prince of darkness is as good as everyone says he is."
"I'd like to get a better handle on my blood-rage first before that happens, thank you."
"Why? It's not like you need to participate. Hell, I'd be happy just to lie there and let him eat me out..." but Frankie smacked her arm in warning even as she laughed.
"And that's my cue to leave," she then announced, sliding off the table.
"Ah come on!" the redhead called out. "You know I'm only teasing. As hot as he is, I still think he's an arrogant prick."
"That's not why I'm leaving," Frankie replied, unlocking the door.
"Then why?"
The woman paused, turning to look back at her two friends, still seated on the table.
"Because I still have the key to his flat – and if you two keep talking about sex like this, I might just use it, consequences be damned..."
Both Lyra and Carmen broke out into a fit of laughter at that.