CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Toro notices the way I tense up, following my gaze to the arm. He tries to rub his cheek up against me, as if that’s going to make me forget what I just saw. The way his grip tightens is subtle, as though he’s trying to ensure I don’t run away.
Of course I wouldn’t, but I really want to. I can’t help the way I tremble, the disgustingly wet noises of Alma slicing through flesh making it hard for me to think about anything else.
“I won’t ask you to help prep the meat.” Alma says, although it’s hard to focus on her voice when all that’s on my mind is Grant.
She looks up at me, and although her expression is stony there’s the tiniest bit of something else.
Pity? Worry? “You gotta understand… It’s just what we’ve always done. ”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, especially not with Toro snuggling me. “You kill people,” the words leave my mouth before I get to really process them, “and then you eat them…? You can’t… you can’t…”
“It’s just how it is.” Her tone is firmer now, like I’m teetering the edge of something I should leave alone. “We have other meat, too. No one’s gonna force ya to do anything ya don’t wanna do.”
The biter expression on my face is hard to hide, but I can’t bring myself to speak. My stomach is lurching, a tidal wave of pure filth washing over me. This is disgusting. This is all so disgusting.
The noise Toro makes is anything but a happy one, his face finding its way to the back of my neck. A hand moves to my chest to rest over my heart with another whimper.
“Don’t break his heart, Nico.” Alma glares at me, clearly not all that impressed with my little outburst. “You don’t understand how many lines he’s crossed for you.”
He’s sweet. I’ll never deny that. But these people are cannibals. I just want to forget what I saw, but I can’t. How can I forget that? Fuck—this is just horrible. Everything about this is wrong.
“You fucking eat people!” I scream so loud my throat feels raw. They both seem surprised, stopping dead in their tracks to stare. “G-Get the fuck off of me!”
With a scowl I step back, pushing Toro’s arm off me. It lands limp at his side, and his expression is the grimmest I’ve ever seen it. Alma drops the knife on the cutting board, staring at me with this unsettling dead look in her eyes.
“Nico.” Her voice is low, and it’s obvious this is a warning. “You ain’t in no position to judge us. You don’t know what we been through. Ya think we like it? Think we do it for fun?”
Why do I feel like I said something wrong?
They’re the ones who eat people. Yet I’m being made out to feel bad?
I can still hear Grant’s voice chiding me, still feel his arm draped around me whenever he used to come over.
But instead it’s there, laid out across the table like food. “That’s… There’s no excuse—”
Toro is in front of me again, but he just looks pathetic now. He timidly wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, almost animalistic whimpers doing exactly what he wants: making me feel like shit.
Of course I feel bad. But why the fuck do I feel bad? That’s not fair. It’s not like I ever asked him to save me, at least not at first. But he did, he still did it. That means something—doesn’t it? But what?
Toro gently kisses at the side of my neck, and the tiny mewl that leaves him is so endearing I nearly forget about the entire situation. But I don’t melt into him. I don’t let him win. I jerk away, watching as he retreats a few steps back.
“Like I said,” Alma’s gaze eases up slightly. “He likes you. He might be big, but he’s my lil’ brother. So don’t you do something you’ll regret now, Nico.”
“Right.” My cheeks are now hotter than the sun outside, and my brain is totally fried. I force myself to keep on cutting the vegetables in front of me, averting my gaze to not look anymore.
She’s butchering through Grant’s arm like it’s nothing, the sound of her blade slamming against the wood filling the air each time brings it down to saw through him. It makes this disgustingly wet noise every time, and I feel like I might just snap.
Why did Toro make such a horrible face? It’s not right, but why did he listen? Why does he even care? Cautious steps bring Toro back in front of my trembling form, but instead of trying to hug or smother me with affection again he just reaches out and pats my head.
He pets me like I did to him back in the basement, like it’s the only thing he knows. It’s obvious he’s nervous, thick fingers fumbling around my scalp before he pulls his hand back.
Toro gently pushes me aside so he can finish the salad, although even when it’s done I can’t bring myself to even think about eating. Still, he makes me a plate and herds me to the dining table to sit before flashing me a meek smile.
It’s hard to be mad at someone who looks at you like that. Like you’re everything to them. But I didn’t do anything to deserve it. He doesn’t sit with me, just ruffling my hair once more and leaving me to eat my dumb salad.
“He’s tryin’,” Alma warns. “Don’t know what else to tell ya.”
She lets me sit on that as she pulls open the oven, the aroma of sweet barbecue filling the air around me. Normally it would make my mouth water, but in this situation it just makes me feel sick.
Tender flesh lets out nasty squishes as Alma cuts the cooked meat to craft the sandwiches for the family. When everything is plated and ready Toro returns to the seat next to me, making quick work of his food.
There’s crumbs all over his face, the man’s lips stained a red-tinted orange thanks to the barbecue sauce. His tongue darts out to lick it clean, but that doesn’t do much. Against my better judgment I grab a napkin from the center of the table, reaching out to wipe the last bit left.
His gaze locks onto me, eyes widening at first. He seems unsure—asking me “is this okay?” without even saying a thing. But then a dopey grin sprawls across his face, and he slowly leans in closer. Toro lets me clean his face off, a pleased huff leaving him.
Alma stares at us with equal parts annoyance and equal parts intrigue. “Weren’t you just makin’ a fuss about this?” She asks, swallowing down her food. “Now you cleanin’ him up like it’s just a normal day for ya. I don’t understand you, Nico.”
“He’s…” How the hell am I supposed to answer that question when I don’t even know? My gaze wanders over to his stupid smile and the stupid look of pure adoration in his eyes. It shouldn’t be like this, but it is. “I… I just want to be… nice.”
That’s the truth. There isn’t any grand reason. For better or for worse I just like Toro. He’s sweet to me, and maybe there’s something wrong with me but that’s enough for me to look past his… flaws. Or, at least I thought I could look past them.
But this feels like too much.
Alma simply hums at me, and it’s obvious she’s studying my face. She must be trying to determine if I’m lying or just hiding something.
“Still don’t get it,” she shrugs, taking another bite. “But whatever. I believe ya, for what it’s worth.”
Toro leans in to brush his stubbly cheek against mine. But the sickly sweet scent is still on his lips. On his breath. People. Dead people. Not just people, either. Someone who I used to call my friend. Someone who I used to know.
“I’m gonna call Damien and Lucio down. You two might wanna head back to the bedroom,” Alma mutters.
Toro tenses up at the thought, lifting me into his arms in one swift motion. I absentmindedly cling to him like a koala, one firm arm of his holding me up while the other gives a little wave to his sister.
Neither of them think I’m ready for a Tavera family meal yet, and I truly can’t blame them.
I don’t think I am either, especially not now.
I probably should’ve seen this coming from the start.
I guess I was just fine to live in my little fantasy world for a bit.
While Toro carries me back to the room my mind wanders to a few days ago. During the first meal I ever had here.
I was the only one who ate the stupid fucking soup. They had grinned and snickered back then. I get it now. I get why it was funny. I let out a strangled exhale, lurching forward and holding on to Toro a little tighter as I recall the way the meat felt between my teeth.
If there was anything more in my stomach, I’d probably puke. All I can do is cling to him and ignore the way my head is pounding so hard it must be trying to just explode finally.
When Toro sets me down on the bed the last thing I want to do is cozy up to him, but of course he’s smothering me. It’s so desperate, so needy. Yet I’d feel way too cruel being mean to him.
He isn’t the one who did it, he never fed me anything.
I know I’m making excuses for him, and babying him way too much, but how can I not?
He’s not like the other Taveras. Yeah, okay, he’s big and scary—but he’s not.
Not really. From the moment I gave him those stupid cookies he’s been nothing but soft glances and delicate touches.
I don’t know what it means to feel this way, but I know my stomach feels all fluttery when he’s around. But can I really overlook all of this? Can I ignore the truth? I always thought I was smarter than that. But maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m just an idiot.