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He leads with a kind of confidence I didn’t expect, his right hand grasping my left while his left hand settles against my back. He’s bold in all the ways I would have never expected from a priest, his fingers grazing just above the curve of my ass.
“I didn’t know priests were allowed to dance,” I murmur, biting my lip.
“Common misconception,” he chuckles, his voice low and throaty. “I blame Footloose.”
“Isn’t that movie like…a hundred years old?”
“You’ve seen it though,” Reyes says. “Obviously.”
“Right,” I say. “And you might be on to something…”
“Well, they’reBaptistin Footloose, not Catholic,” he says. “And you know I had a whole life before I went to Seminary, right?”
“Can’t say I know much about you at all,” I murmur.
“I guess I need to set the record straight then,” he says. “I used to love dancing.”
The music picks up and he twirls me out to arm’s length before spinning me back into his embrace, my handmade green dress rippling like water between us. I can feel people’s eyes on us, the pack intent on every move we make. A few people have adjusted to my presence here, but I know a lot of them still mistrust me, and I can’t imagine they want one of their sworn enemies to be the mate of their Alpha Prime.
That I’m even thinking this way is strange enough to me.
But seeing the clinic really got the gears turning. If I brought Enid here, we wouldn’t be under the Angels’ thumb anymore. I could get her medicine whenever I wanted. The rebels aren’t nearly as bad as I thought, and…
“Come back, Tilda,” Reyes whispers in my ear. It sends a shudder through me, every hair standing on end. “Where’d you go?”
His question is as good as a command; I answer without hesitation, no more secrets standing between us. I don’t want that anymore.
“I’m thinking about my sister,” I say. “She needs me.”
“Which is why I’m going to send you home,” he says. “But just focus on this tonight. On us.”
Us. He didn’t seem all that interested in “us” when we kissed three days ago. Things seem to have changed though; maybe we’ve both given up on denying this. I wish I could see inside his head, at least for the sake of figuring out what’s going to happen.
“You look beautiful,” he says. “I presume the dress is courtesy of Peaches…?”
“Salvage,” I say. “She spruced it up and tailored it to fit. And it covers that awful scar on my thigh.” I snap my mouth shut. “Sorry—I don’t know why I even brought that up.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here to listen if you want to.”
The song changes to something slower, prettier. It’s harder to dance to, though, and Reyes draws me in close to sway in his arms as a fiddle joins Mateo’s playing. Someone’s started a bonfire, and the heat of it glows orange on Reyes’s face as we move farther away from the crowd.
“It’s from right after the Convergence,” I whisper. “I fought off Heavenly Host forces trying to take Enid for a blessing. It’s how we ended up in Homestead.”
“But I thought you supported the Heavenly Host.”
“I’ve always just been trying to protect her,” I say. “God…I’m such a hypocrite.”
Reyes’ brow furrows as he looks down at me, but he doesn’t seem to judge. Instead, his eyes soften as he gets closer. “You’re not a hypocrite,” he says. “In dire circumstances, we all do what we must to survive.”
“Are you going to tell me to do ten Hail Mary’s or some shit like that?” I ask.
He smiles. “If you think that would help.”
“But I don’t believe in all that,” I say.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Even if I’m the only one listening…it might.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not sure if I can do this here.”
