Chapter 162: Between Sherry and Carrise.
"Oddo’s family didn’t open the gates," Sherry said, her fingers laced tightly with mine as we reached the apartment building. The night air had cooled, carrying the faint metallic tang of the capital streets. "Nesto and I stood outside until it was too late. Then we left."
"I’m sorry," I said. "Those missions are harder than the ones with fighting. At least with fighting you know what you’re dealing with."
We climbed the stairs. Her boots scuffed softly on each step beside mine, the sound echoing up the stairwell. There was something in her voice I couldn’t fully place. Not sadness exactly. Something quieter. Deeper. Like a current running underneath still water.
We reached the fourth floor. Her door.
"Good night, Sherry," I said, my mind already drifting down to the floor below, to Carrise Vale and her thick curtains and the real mission I was here to carry out.
She held my eyes.
"Why the rush?" she asked.
She stepped forward, closing the distance between us in one smooth motion. The open door behind her spilled warm light into the hallway, outlining the curve of her shoulders and the line of her neck. Her hand stayed in mine, grip tightening as she moved closer. Her chest rose with a slow, deliberate breath, brushing against me. The short brunette hair framed her face, a few strands catching on her lashes as she looked up.
I looked at her. The way her lips parted slightly. The specific way she held my gaze when she had decided something and was waiting to see if I had caught up.
"Sherry," I said, voice low.
"Bram," she answered, the same weight in it, the same quiet challenge.
"I should go," I said. "I need to—"
She kissed me.
Not the kind that asks a question. The kind that already knows the answer and is confirming it. Something sweet lingered on her lips, faint lip balm, the taste of juice, and I didn’t move. Her mouth moved against mine, slow and certain, tongue brushing my lower lip once before she pulled back just enough to breathe.
She stepped back. Then came forward again, hands sliding into my hair, fingers tightening at the back of my head. She kissed me properly this time, deep, unhurried, lips parting wider as her tongue found mine. I held her waist, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt, and kissed her back. For a moment the corridor, the apartment building, the entire capital fell away. Just the wet heat of her mouth, the press of her breasts against my chest, the soft sound she made when I pulled her hips closer.
She stepped back again, lips flushed and slightly swollen, breathing a little faster.
"I’m going inside to try on my new pajamas," she said, voice low. "If you’re interested, you can come and take them off."
She walked to her door, pushed it open, and left it that way, a rectangle of warm light spilling into the hallway, framing her silhouette for a second before she disappeared inside.
I stood in the corridor.
The first time she had kissed me was at Hogsby, in a corridor not unlike this one, and she had walked into her room exactly the same way, door closed, no discussion after. Like it hadn’t happened. Like she was waiting to see what I would do with it.
I looked at the open door. The light inside. The faint sound of fabric rustling. Then I looked at the stairs going down to the third floor.
Carrise Vale. My new target. The system’s instruction running underneath everything like a second heartbeat. Two open doors. Two different directions.
Choose, I thought.
My fingers flexed once at my sides. The charge under my skin hummed faintly, restless. I took one step toward Sherry’s door, then stopped.
The weight of Eleanor’s words pressed against the back of my mind. The three names. The mission my father had died to give me. I turned and started down the stairs.
Each step echoed softly. The decision settled in my chest, heavy, certain, inevitable.
[LEWD LEVELING SYSTEM]
[Carrise Vale has not stopped thinking about you since this morning.]
[Now is the right time.]
I read the notification and forced my mind to stay blank for one heartbeat. Sherry and I had been building toward tonight since the gates, and I was walking the other way. I knew it and I let it sit and I kept moving.
I reached the third floor and walked to her door, raising my hand to knock. It opened before my knuckles touched the wood.
"Abram." Not surprised. Like she had been listening for footsteps on the stairs.
"Catarina," I said.
[You are the first male who has ever approached her.]
[Mission will be simple tonight.]
"I was thinking about you," I said. "Thought I’d pass by. But if you’re busy—"
"I’m not," she said, and stepped back, night dress whispering against her thighs.
I followed her in.
A movie played on the television, sound muted, images flickering across the dark room in shifting blues and silvers. She settled on the sofa, legs folded beneath her, the thin night dress riding high on her smooth thighs. Completely composed, like someone who had been waiting and had decided not to show it.
"Sit here," she said, patting the space beside her.
[Target in optimal condition.]
[This may be your simplest mark yet.]
"Sorry you caught me watching something inappropriate," she said, remote in hand, a faint flush on her cheeks.
"I’ve seen worse," I said.
She smiled. "So. What brings you here, Abram?"
"Connection," I said, settling beside her. "It would be robbery to live a floor below a beautiful woman and not find a reason to knock."
She laughed, small, genuine, the first unguarded sound she had given me. Her dark eyes caught the flickering light from the screen as she closed the small distance between us.
"Abram." Her voice dropped, low and warm. "Do you know why I let you in?"
"Yes," I said, Sherry’s face surfaced once, sharp and fleeting, then receded.
She moved. One smooth shift and she crossed over, settling on my lap facing me. Her knees sank into the cushions on either side of my hips, night dress riding all the way up. Her hands came to my shoulders, fingers gripping as she leaned in and kissed me.
I held her waist, palms sliding over the thin fabric and the heat of her skin beneath it. She kissed me deeper, tongue sliding against mine, hips rolling once in a slow, deliberate grind that pressed her heat directly against the growing hardness in my lap. A soft sound escaped her throat, vibrating into my mouth as her fingers tightened in my hair.
The television flickered behind her, casting shifting light and shadow across her face and the curve of her breasts through the thin dress. Her thighs squeezed against my sides, the warmth of her bare skin burning through my clothes as she rocked again, slower, more intentional.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, lips parted and glistening, breath warm against my mouth.
I stayed there, hands on her waist, feeling the steady roll of her hips and the heat building between us, the mission and the weight of everything else momentarily fading beneath the press of her body.
