8. Chapter 8 #2
Dona Otero is right. Dancing is foreplay and gives insight to one's partner.
If there's one thing I have now learned about Salvador, it's his intensity.
His eye contact, the tautness of his arms, the clench in his jaw; he's a force and I reckon if I stand too close, I might get swept away and lose sight of myself.
Salvador grabs me and aggressively pulls me back to him.
Caught up in the moment, I grant my hands permission to explore his body.
I drag my fingertips across the exposed flesh of his chest and hell if I don't feel chills when his calloused hand wraps around my neck as he slowly dips me backward until I'm perpendicular with the floor.
My left leg snakes around his thigh as his mouth grazes my sternum.
The warmth of his breath leaves a trail of whispered kisses against my chest and just as his lips begin to explore between my breasts, the music suddenly ends.
Our breathing is heavy, as if we were trapped underwater and just managed to break the surface before we drowned.
I feel his heart beating rapidly and I'm afraid if I meet his line of sight, I might fall under his wicked spell, but I'm a glutton for punishment and can't help myself.
I open my eyes to find he's already watching me.
I'm tempted to rip the mask from his face, but the mystery of what he really looks like intrigues and excites me.
All I can see are his golden-brown eyes, dark hair that falls just over his brow, bronze skin, and lips that are so tempting I hate myself for wanting to taste him.
His line-of-sight dips from my eyes to my mouth.
I haven't kissed a man in over four years. Not for lack of interest, but because the last man I gave my heart to left me physically and emotionally battered. He'd found someone better suited, more worthy of his affection, and acceptable according to his family's standards.
"You didn't actually believe we'd have a future together, Ines?" I remember Marco's parting words as if it were yesterday. "You are nothing. You are no one."
I clench my eyes shut, willing his voice to vacate my head, but instead, I feel his fingers dig harshly into the tender flesh of my arms as he tosses me across my apartment.
I recall smashing against the wall so hard it stole my breath.
The last thing I remember of that afternoon was threatening to tell his family about us and ruining his engagement for denying my existence.
I woke up hours later, bruised and bloody.
My clothes were torn, my hair disheveled.
I had a broken wrist and several bruised ribs.
One of my eyes was darkened where his fist met my face, and a dried trickle of crimson stained my chin.
I swore that day, I'd never let a man close enough to harm me again.
Besides the warden in the prison, I've kept my promise.
So why am I still inching closer to Salvador, yearning for a kiss I should not want?
Before our mouths have a chance to meet, Dona Otero applauds, shattering the unspoken tension between us.
She laughs triumphantly, as if she's just won a glorious battle against the devil himself. "I foresee many proposals in your future, mi querida. The Dons will be eating crumbs from your hands and thanking you for it."
Salvador's gaze is unyielding and even though it appears he has something to say, he remains silent. He slowly lifts me until I'm firmly standing on my feet and releases me from his grasp.
"You've danced before?" he asks, intrigued.
I shake my head. "No, but I used to sneak into the city during festivals and watch from the shadows."
"From the shadows?" he tilts his head, clearly not understanding.
"An orphan from the Brogratto wasn't exactly welcome to participate. If I was caught, I'd be shooed away on a good day and beaten on a bad one. After a few too many bruises, I'd do as I was told and go back to my side of the city with the other guttersnipes."
That seems to strike a nerve with him. The curiosity in his eyes fizzles, making way for sorrow. "I'm sorry that was your childhood, Vibora."
"It's fine." I shrug, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. "It's the way of the world."
"That doesn't make it right. You deserved better." His eyes soften when he whispers, "You still deserve better."
His words spear through the small crack in the wall I've maintained all these years and pierce my heart.
"You deserved better. You still deserve better."
"You are nothing. You are no one."
Salvador's words battle Marco's and my limbs go numb.
Suddenly, my skin is both sweaty and clammy and I can't breathe.
I claw at my dress, as if the fabric is what is constricting me, and stumble to the floor.
Salvador kneels in front of me and plants his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to meet his line of sight.
"What's wrong? Tell me what you need."
"Air," I gasp. "I can't… breathe."
Without a second's hesitation, Salvador flicks a knife from his boot and slices the back of my dress, so it falls open. I clutch it to my chest so I'm not fully exposed and take a moment to sit and catch my breath.
Dona Otero dismisses the musicians as she beckons for Lupe to bring me a glass of water, but Salvador doesn't move a muscle. He stays directly in my line of sight, and it isn't until my breathing levels out that I realize he's holding my hand, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.
"Are you alright?" he asks, and I nod, retrieving my hand from his.
"This damn dress is too tight," I grumble. "Made me lightheaded."
We both know it's a lie, but he doesn't call me out.
The truth is I allowed memories of my past to weasel their way back to the forefront of my mind, weakening my defense mechanisms and causing a spectacle.
Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to have someone show sympathy for my lack of an upbringing.
I'm used to fending for myself in a cruel and wicked society, but here, for the first time in my life, I feel seen.
And I hate it. I feel naked. In fact, I'd rather strut down the street for all of Orlencia to see in nothing but the body I was born in, than have Salvador – or anyone else for that matter – offer sympathy for the tragedy that is my life.
I might not have fine things or a family to call mine, but I have my own unyielding will and shall never cower to anyone ever again.
Against Lupe's instructions to keep still, I stagger to my feet and bow my head in a show of respect to Dona Otero. "I will be in my room if you need me, Dona. Unless you have further use for me."
Dona Otero shakes her head and motions for me to leave. "Take the remainder of the day to rest, mi querida."
Not needing her to tell me twice, I march out of the room, dismissing Lupe's attempts in aiding me, to retreat to my quarters and take a nice, warm bath in attempts to forget the viciousness that was my childhood.
As I climb the grand staircase, Marco's face pops into my mind and I shudder.
He was the first man I permitted myself to love, and he was also the first man I murdered.
Once I healed from his brutal assault, I waited for him in the darkness, a place I had become familiar and comfortable with.
I was a brash eighteen-year-old who had not only been lied to and taken advantage of but had been left for dead.
His mistake. I was naive to believe I could be a lady and marry a man outside the Brogratto, but I didn't have to allow him to escape justice for what he put me through.
He stumbled out of a bar in the Night District, the cold and bitter chill in the air whipping around like death's final caress. When he parted from his friends, I seized the opportunity to slip from my hiding place and plunge my dagger into his heart. He died with my face as the last thing he saw.
No one discovered his body. I made sure of it. The sea is his final resting place and to this day, I feel no remorse.
I blink and see Salvador's sympathetic eyes and rage bubbles in the pit of my stomach.
The next time we meet, there won't be a crack in my armor for him to prod.
At the end of the day, I'm the only person I can count on, the only person I can trust. He can take his pity and shove it straight up his ass.
Pull yourself together, Ines. Pull yourself together.