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Then again, maybe it is. It’s just not the kind people want to believe in. No, that’s too much to bear for them. The same way they rush past the shelters, not making eye contact with any of us while we all hope there are enough beds for the night. People only want to see the pretty things. It doesn’t matter what lies behind the walls if they don’t have to face it.
“Not enough do.” Bjornsson barely touches his food.
I hold all of his attention. Is it because he thinks I’m going to do something or because he simply enjoys watching me? I kind of hope it’s both. That I can make this man unsure of what is to come. That I'm unpredictable. But I have a sense he merely wants to stare at me. For some reason, I’ve caught his attention. I’m not sure if that’s bad or good yet. Probably a bit of both.
“Doyougive people what they deserve?” I lick my lips, sweeping up any sauce I left behind. His words from earlier replay in my mind, and I remember the look in his eyes when he said them.
“I try to keep out of most things.” He butters my bread for me. The act is small. It shouldn’t mean anything, but it does. I can’t help but love the way he cares for me.
“But you know all things?” I lift a brow, teasing him.
“In this city, I know everyone sins.”
“What happens when you can’t keep out of it?”
“Then I do what needs to be done.” His answers are always vague but honest.
I believe him when he says he won’t lie to me, but Bjornsson uses each of his words with precision. The only time I’ve heard a hint of his tone changing was when he was going back and forth with Lars outside my door.
“Make me understand. You don’t have to confess to me but maybe a little.” I peek over at him through my lashes. I want to know more about this man. Something has drawn me to him. It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t help myself.
“There will always be evil in this world. You can’t stop that, but you can balance the scales. Even in the dark, a little light can shine.”
“Are you the light?”
“I’m not the light of a savior, Angel. I’m the last light they will ever see.”
I reach out to touch him. His hand snaps out fast, grabbing me by the wrist, making the sleeves of his robe fall down a few inches. I get a peek of a tattoo. Something I was not expecting. He keeps getting more interesting by the second.
“What needs to be done with me?” I lean toward him. His fingers lock around my wrist. My body lights up, my stomach tightening. Bjornsson’s hold is hard with a snap of sting. It should hurt, might even leave a mark, but my body only hums one thing.
Desire.
In fact, I wouldn’t mind if he tightened his hold more on me. Then I’d know for sure I’d see his mark on my wrist later when his hand is long gone.
Too bad it’s not one of desire for him. He merely doesn’t want me to touch him. I only wanted to run my fingers across the white collar. My fingers have been itching to touch it.
“Please?” I don’t know why I say it, but I do. The word is like a key. As fast as his hand locked around my wrist, he released it. This time, he doesn’t stop me when I go for his collar. I run my finger along it, letting it stray deep inside so I can feel his skin too. He visibly swallows.
“It’s Mary,” I tell him. He’s given me something now. I'll do the same. “What the state named me.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Not this time.” I let my hand fall away but let it graze against his chest, feeling nothing but hardness. Bjornsson is a very disciplined man. He lives by a code of right and wrong. One that is of his own, but I think he makes sure to always keep his emotions in check. “Virgin Mary and all.” I wink at him before taking a giant bite of the piece of bread he gave me.
The glass in his hand shatters. “What the hell?” I jump up, almost choking on my bread.
Lars comes out of freaking nowhere. I’m starting to think he’s a ghost that haunts this place that can appear anywhere at any time.
Drops of blood hit the table, mixing with the spilled wine and the shattered glass.
“Are you okay?” I try to reach for his hand, but he jerks back away from me. I hold my hands up. “Sorry.”
“I’m fine.” Bjornsson stands up. “Make sure you answer your door in the morning for breakfast.” He doesn’t wait for an answer from me. He leaves without another word or glance in my direction, Lars following right behind him.
I sit there for a second, not understanding why I’m so hurt by his reaction. He didn’t want me to touch him. It's confusing. One second, I think he’s trying to keep me, and the next, he doesn’t want to be near me.
If anything, I should be used to that. Always thinking the next foster home might be better. At first they are. Then you’re not what they wanted. You didn’t fit. Maybe I’m feeling this way because I thought I was past that in my life.
