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"There are always ways." Staring into my eyes, she sprinkled a brownish liquid onto a plate she'd separated from the rest.A special treat, just for my father.
He might flaunt his whores around my mother now, but when she was in a rebellious mood, she'd find a way to get what she wanted.
After dinner, my father wouldn't be busy fucking his whore. Instead, he'd be camped out in the bathroom, trying to vomit and shit at the same time.
And you?" I tilted my head towards the backroom. "You stay with him. You don'tfind a wayto leave."
"Good catholic women don't get divorced," she hissed, picking up several platters, balancing them on her arms and hands.
"I know," I responded, bitterness filling my voice, "instead you go to church at least once a week with bruises and a black eye. And the good, helpful priest stares down at you, a complacent smile on his face, offering you holy communion, because you're such agoodcatholic, neither one of you saying a word about the husband you don't divorce."
"Look at you, on your high horse." Her eyes flashed. "Now you're no different than your father. At least I don't betray my best friend by killing his only relative."
I looked away, swallowing down my response, because she was right. I wasn't any better. Not anymore.
"And Tatiana?" she continued, "You'll make sure she never finds out, won't you? Won't ever know the truth about who you really are." She shook her head as she headed towards the back room, her hands filled with several plates. "You can't ever let her know, because you're rotten to the core, apple. And no woman who ever really knows you will ever love you."
TWENTY-SIX
PRESENT DAY
Ignoring the gun in her hand, pointed right at me, I stood before Tatiana, my eyes tracing over her face, down to that beautiful freckle.
The sight of it reminded me of our childhood: brushing soft white sand from innocent, tanned skin. Climbing through an open window - the hot, muggy air clinging and sticky. Filtered moonlight lighting up a golden crown against stark, black-raven hair.
It was a time when the world stilled, except the pounding in my heart, blood rushing through my ears, and the warmth billowing in my chest.
I leaned over, my fisted hands digging into the bed. Staring straight into those midnight blue eyes, I pressed my forehead against the barrel of the gun. “You want to kill me, little polva?”
Her chest expanded, her breasts like pillows pressed against her tight corset. A fluttered pulse in her neck.
She was excited or nervous, I wasn’t sure which. But her hands didn’t tremble, her eyes didn’t stray from my gaze.
Did she really want to kill me?
Possibly. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I never deserved her.
"Knight," she breathed, the press of the gun against my forehead suddenly disappearing. Replaced with soft, warm fingertips through my hair, a feather soft touch against my skin. "Knight, Knight, what have you been up to?” she murmured, her voice a low, tortured moan, pressing to my ear. "You still killing child molesters when no one is watching?”
I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of her cheek, brushing against the sandpaper of my whiskers. “Would that matter?”
“Maybe.”
“And would that be a mark in my favor, or against me?” Arm wrapping around her narrow waist, I clasped her tight, filled with misery and the sweet, sweet torture of her warm body pressed up against mine.
Her lips nibbled down my jawline, pressing soft kisses there. “Do you still dream of me at night? Haunted by the pain of your past?" Her hand clutched my hair, yanking it to jerk my head to her lips. Then her teeth clamped down on my lower lip, biting it so harshly that the coppery taste of my own blood pooled in my mouth. "Or are you too busy lying to me, while you fall in love with another woman, giving her the dreams and the baby I always wanted from you?"
“What?”
Before I could react, her other arm snaked around my neck, and then, a sharp pinprick against my skin.
I gasped in surprise, my hands clutching the bedspread, then her thighs, digging my fingers into delicate skin. “Tati, what are you doing?” My voice sounded wobbly and shaky, as I slowly began to sink into an abyss of darkness.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, holding me still as she leaned back to stare into my eyes, her own filled with the signs of a surging storm. “My whole life, you gave me anything I ever needed. It’s my turn to give you a gift, Knight, brought to you by a little trick I learned from Antonio."
Drowsiness washed over me, a hazy, dreamlike sensation overwhelming my senses. Then my vision filled with blackness, the last thing to fill my eyesight was the twist of her lips, a smirk of satisfaction.
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