Chapter Eleven
Harlow
Truth In The Dark
So many feelings crash through me. It’s hard to isolate one.
He called it a gift. And the anger on his face, even as he watches me, is so palpable I feel as though I can reach out and touch it. I can practically taste it on my tongue.
But there’s something else, I realize. Something that rises with every second, mixing with the anger my story seemed to generate.
Something that compels me to uncurl a bit and reach out until my fingers are brushing over the side of his handsome face, because it’s a keening cry I know too well. It’s fear.
I replay his words in my mind and stroke my fingers over his jaw. “Do these hunters scare you that much?” Are they what he’s afraid of?
Mateo’s lips lift with a flicker of bitter amusement, and he tilts his head until his nose brushes the heel of my palm.
His nostrils flare as he draws a deep breath.
“They’re dangerous, yes,” he says after a long moment.
He reaches up and catches my hand, cradling it to his skin.
“But they’re not what really scares me.”
I finally understand. Rather, I feel with a deeply ingrained certainty that I do, and while that itself is confusing, the clarity is ... something else altogether. Breathtaking. Dizzying.
The fear in his eyes is my fault.
“I won’t risk losing you.” That’s what he said only a minute earlier. Seconds before offering to let me leave this new, airier prison once the threat of might-be-vampire hunters is handled.
Vampires. Vampire hunters. Whatever a consort is.
He called it a gift.
Mateo didn’t so much as blink when I mentioned seeing the dead. He hasn’t yet shown a single glimmer of disbelief, or disgust, or any of the numerous other degrading and familiar things I became acquainted with in my youth. He’s taken it in stride with not even a question.
Instead, I denied him. Repeatedly.
The thought strikes me like a slap in the face.
I’ve committed the same atrocity that eventually landed me in the hellhole that nearly killed me.
And yet, for reasons I clearly do not understand, the man I have egregiously offended remains on bended knee in front of me as if he has all the patience and time in the world.
Too many emotions consume me, and I move to wedge myself in front of him, between his immobile position and the sofa.
I assume from the widening of his eyes that I’ve caught him off guard, and most days I would take pride in that.
At the moment, I only want to apologize.
To clear this strange, convoluted air between us.
I probably don’t know how to do that. Not in a healthy way.
But I’m emotional, and regardless of how angry I was at him half an hour before, I still feel drawn to him. I feel ... distinctly not afraid. Guilty, shameful, bizarrely hopeful, and immensely confused, but very little fear and none of it toward Mateo.
So I settle my other hand on the opposite side of his face, framing his structured jaw, and lean in close.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because it needs to be said.
Because he deserves to hear it. “I did to you what so many others did to me. I assumed that just because I haven’t personally witnessed something, you couldn’t be what you said you were.
” I lean forward and press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’m so sorry, Mateo.”
He releases my hand on an exhale, and the next thing I know, my entire body is encased by him. His arms are around me, holding me tightly to him, and I’m positioned between his legs so his bent knees are like brackets on either side.
It’s almost too much, but none of my panic reflexes trigger. Instead, my fingers find their way into his hair, as if I’m seeking to anchor myself to him, too.
Mateo’s stare is intense, and another moment passes before he seems to find the words to put with his immediate physical response.
By then, I feel like I’m melting in ways I’m hardly used to.
“You don’t have to apologize, mi alma. I threw too much at you too soon.
I wish I hadn’t had to.” One of his hands slides up my back, tangling in my hair as his palm grips my head, and he leans forward, his forehead coming to rest on mine.
“I meant what I said. I won’t trap you here.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t hope you’ll choose to stay. ”
I swallow a lump of emotion and close my eyes for long seconds, just breathing and feeling.
Existing in Mateo’s strong embrace.
And I realize, as confused as my mind is when I think too hard, my heart has never felt calmer. Safer. Deep inside, this moment feels right somehow. It’s so much more than mere comfort.
I breathe out again and blink my eyes open, smiling as Mateo eases back enough for easier eye contact.
I don’t know if I’ll stay forever. That seems like a wildly big commitment.
But I do know that I’m not ready to walk away from him, regardless of what he is.
“Will you teach me? About vampires, and consorts, and whatever it was you called these hunters that are apparently after all of us? I want to learn.”
He blinks once before a soft smile tips his lips. “Of course.”
I hold my smile. “I have a very particular question to start.” It’s the wrong question in many ways, but it is absolutely the only one that matters to me right now.
Mateo arches a single brow, and amusement dances across his face. “What’s that?”
I lean in until our noses nearly touch. “How does one ... kiss a vampire?”
His jaw locks for a count of five seconds, unadulterated hunger flashing across his gaze. The pitch of his voice goes straight through me when he speaks. “Like this.”
And it’s a good thing I’m already on my knees, because the fire that erupts in my blood the moment he pushes his tongue past my lips melts me completely.