Certain Dark Things(81)

“He’s not my kin,” Atl said. “You can only trust your kin.”

“I thought you could trust me. I wouldn’t let you down. And aren’t you trusting Bernardino right now?”

She turned away from him. It was too difficult to explain to Domingo the intricacies of family and clans, of blood ties that bind, and she did not feel she had enough patience to begin to map it out for him.

“I’m trying to help you,” he said, all youthful vehemence.

“Yes. I know. You’re always trying to help me,” she replied, wishing her voice were not so brittle.

“Why is that so bad?”

“You have no idea what it feels like to suddenly be completely dependent, completely helpless,” she whispered. She grabbed the change of clothes that was waiting for her on the bed and held it up for him to see.

“I can’t even change out of my clothes without your help,” she said unkindly, though he was guilty of nothing but kindness.

Atl tossed the clothes on the floor, wanting very much to tear them to pieces. She kicked them away instead. “I hate needing you,” she said. “That’s what it is. I f*cking hate it.”

“I need you, too,” he said.

Atl slowly raised her head and scoffed at him, at the earnest quality of his voice. The way he cringed at her anger, the wounded look washing over him, they were almost infectious.

“It’s not the same thing,” she replied.

“Yeah. I know,” he said, and for once his voice held a different note, hurt, yes, but also something decisive.

His eyes cut her, got under her skin, like shards of glass.

Atl whirled away and Domingo found enough courage to pull her toward him. She rested her good hand against his chest, frowning.

“I don’t want you getting hurt,” he said. “That’s all. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, found the buttons of his shirt, toying with the top one, undoing it and doing it again, her finger sliding to touch the hollow of his throat. His blood, she could almost hear it cresting up to meet her caress.

“Atl,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“You didn’t kiss me the first time,” she replied, remembering the pitiful peck he’d given her the previous night.

He attempted a second kiss, this one a proper one, though truth be told he wasn’t terribly good at kissing. All he could manage was to part his lips and stand stiff as a board. She pushed back against his kiss, challenging him, until he seemed to relax, placing an arm around her waist and she reciprocated by resting a hand on his nape, her fingers tangling in his hair.

When the kiss ended she did not distance herself, her body flush against him. Her irritation had faded. There was comfort to be had in his nearness.

“You’re shaking,” she said, realizing it sounded like an accusation and not bothering to sweeten her voice.

“Yeah, well, you’re very pretty,” he mumbled.

They were quiet. She didn’t really want him to speak and just stood there, next to him, the lantern draping them in a vague halo of light, illuminating his features, though she could have seen him well enough without its assistance.

Domingo took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure whether you liked me,” he said.

She brushed his arm, giving him a sideways look. “I like you,” she said simply.

It was no lie, but she didn’t enjoy saying it. It sounded childish. The kind of thing girls might write on a piece of paper and pass around a classroom, giggling. Something she’d never done, nor would she have wanted to, had she had the chance. She was of an entirely more practical nature.

Atl took off her jacket, attempted to take off the blouse and found her fingers fumbling the job. Thankfully, he didn’t ask if he could help her. Instead, he wordlessly pulled the blouse from her shoulders, undid the zipper of her skirt. The shoes should have been no problem, but he had her sit on the bed and pulled them off anyway. He managed to avoid looking at her the whole time, his eyes darting to the far corners of the room.

It made her grin.

“Maybe I should turn the lantern off,” he offered.

“No, you shouldn’t.”

Domingo removed his vest, shirt, and belt, though he hesitated at the trousers and shoes and Atl wondered if he was going to get in bed with them on. Finally, he kicked the shoes away, undressed entirely, and sat next to her. Atl looked at him, first a clinical examination of his neck, shoulders, arms. He was a rangy thing, nothing but bones, though she didn’t find this displeasing. She discovered a scar upon his collarbone and touched it.

“I liked you since I first saw you in the subway,” he whispered. “I’d have done anything to meet you. Never thought you’d speak to me.”

She tilted her head. She’d liked him too, the moment she’d seen him sitting in the subway car, wrapped in his yellow jacket. She liked how he looked terribly unsure of himself. She liked the way his hair fell over his face and she liked his smile, which seemed so honest. And he was beautiful, didn’t even know it. It was charming.

“Atl—”

She silenced him with a kiss, weary that he was going to say something dumb, and pushed him down on the bed, pressing her lips against his neck, not for a kiss, but to feed. When she raised her head she did kiss him on the mouth, the sweet taste of copper on her lips. He let his breath out in one long, shaky exhalation.