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“Sure.” I stand up and follow him back inside the house. It’s beautiful. Not like the mansion but more exotic, with the tiled floors and the potted plants. Every window is open, allowing the warm air in. It’s fresher here, high in the hills. Lucas shows me around all the rooms before finally stopping outside a bedroom on the first floor.
“Rafael had your stuff brought to this room,” he says awkwardly, and then he almost runs away. He really is strange sometimes.
Opening the door, I step inside. There’s a huge four-poster bed in the center of the room, and white gauze curtains hang whimsically on all sides. It reminds me of something from an old fairy tale I’d read as a child, featuring castles and princesses and white knights.
Moving closer, I circle the bed, trailing my fingers over the white net curtains with a feather-light touch. My gaze drifts to the bedside table, or rather, what’s resting on it. There’s the Hemmingway book Rafael gave me when I first came to his house, and beside it is the little golden globe he keeps in his office. I place my finger on it, flicking the small shiny ball until it spins on the axis in a blur. Jabbing my finger down, it stops. New Zealand. I wonder what these places look like, if the people speak with an accent, or even the same language as me. The Master always ensured I was educated, but nothing that I could ever apply to anything real. I could tell you the square root of pi, recite poetry by heart, play Bach on the piano and have an in-depth conversation about the merits and flaws of Shakespeare. But I couldn’t tell you what New Zealand looks like. That isn’t necessary. It isn’t impressive. On a sigh, I push the little globe away and turn my attention to the book, which is resting on another one. Skimming over the title, I smile. Pride and Prejudice. Really? Predictable Rafael. Scooping up the book, I head towards the doors on the far side of the room. They open onto a stone balcony, and as I walk outside, I notice the brightly-colored mosaic tiles under my feet. The view is simply breathtaking, as though the world could go on forever and ever, chasing its own horizon. I take a seat one in one of the iron chairs that sits either side of a small table, the chill of the metal seeping through the thin material of my dress. I don’t know how long I sit there, lost in thought, but I jump when something brushes my shoulder.
A rush of hot breath washes over my neck, and I shiver, tipping my head to the side. Rafael’s scent surrounds me, erasing everything that isn’t him from my mind.
“Avecita.” His lips brush my throat as his fingers trail down my arm so gently that my skin erupts in goosebumps. “You’re like a lizard. Always in the sun.” His voice is laced with amusement.
I turn around and meet his gaze, those dark eyes that seem so utterly cold until you really look. Not cold, just guarded, full of secrets kept close. Reaching out, I trace the tip of my finger along his jaw. “Are you scared, Rafe?”
Huge shoulders rise and fall on a heavy breath. “Of your sister? No.”
“Then why are we running?”
He touches his forehead tomine, as though he’s trying to ground himself with my presence. “I’ve never been scared of anything, little warrior, because I’ve never had anything I was scared to lose.”
“Not even your life.”
He pulls back, a small smile touching his lips. “Not even my life.”
“And now?”
Another deep breath. “And now, I don’t want to take any more from you than you’ve already lost. If your sister comes to Juarez, I can’t promise there won’t be blood on either side.”
I chew on the inside of my lip. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Una is an enemy to you. And you owe her no mercy.”
“No, I owe Angel de la Meurte nothing, and yet her sister…” His fingers dance over my cheek. “I find myself quite bound to.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry –”
He cuts me off by grabbing my chin and slamming his lips over mine. The kiss steals my breath, taking all the little bits of me and pulling them towards him like a magnet hovering over fragmented metal. He simply holds me together like a force of nature. I couldn’t fight it if I tried. And I don’t want to.
His thumb strokes over my jaw. “Don’t apologize for this, avecita.” Another lingering brush of his lips over mine and he pulls away. I instantly miss him.
“Dress for dinner in an hour. I have to deal with some business.” I feel the blood drain from my face. “Uh, uh, uh. None of that. Do you trust me?” he asks, not for the first time.
