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I've already broken one promise to Teddy. And now, I've set myself up to break another.
One by one each of the men from the table stand and place their hand on my shoulder, the blood from their pricked finger soaking into my gown. Each then returns to his seat until Teddy is the last man standing.
He steps forward and places his palm on my shoulder. I can feel the blood from his cut seep through the cloth and touch my skin. He squeezes my shoulder and I breathe a sigh of relief as I finally get the reassurance from him that I've been craving.
"Raven Kirkland," the man sitting opposite of me says. "You are now under the protection of the Maldonado Family. You shall suffer no harm by our orders and you shall be protected as one of our own, so long as you keep your oath."
No one says anything else. The men at the table all stand and exit the room, leaving Teddy and me alone in the darkness.
ChapterFifteen
The men are gone, and I'm left sitting with Teddy behind me. His blood-soaked hand is still on my shoulder. I turn around to look at him, and he is as somber as ever.
"What just—" I start to ask, but he shakes his head.
"Not here," he replies.
I understand that this place is not for conversations. He peels his hand from me, the fabric of my dress sticking to him, a makeshift bandage for his cut. He waits for me to stand, and I do, anxious to leave this room that is giving me chills.
I follow him out of the room, waiting as he closes the doors carefully behind us. We walk in silence down the empty corridors despite the fact that I have so much to say.
Something happened in that room.
Something with true and real significance.
I need to know what that is.
We barely make it back into my quarters before I'm turning around and pointing a finger at Teddy. I'm not used to the torrent of emotions I'm currently feeling, and I seem unable to keep control of myself.
"What just happened in there?" I ask him, my tone a little harsher than I intended.
He leans against the wall, and his easygoing manner seems to return.
"I made sure that you'll be safe now," he says.
"You say that as if we didn't just sit through a blood ceremony and I'm not currently covered in the blood of ten other men I don't even know," I scoff.
"What is it you want to know?" he asks me, pushing off the wall and making his way over to the little writing desk. He pulls the chair out with his cut hand, and for the first time, I see him wince.
My anger dissipates at seeing him in pain. I rush over to his side.
"Please," I say, reaching out for his hand. "Let me take a look at it."
He turns his palm up and lets me hold it. I take it gently in my own hand. I try and keep my fingers steady. I remember the feel of his hands on me even all these years later. They were strong then too, keeping me from harm.
I try and remind myself that I'm falling for his trap. That his hands didn't keep me from harm. Rather, they had led me into sin. But, as I look at the deep gash on his palm, I no longer feel those words in my heart.
"Come this way," I say to him, leading him into the attached bathroom.
He follows me without question. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as we walk in. I see my previously pure white gown for the first time. It's covered in bloody handprints, the majority of the red coming from Teddy.
I kneel down and pull the first aid kit from beneath the sink. "This might sting a little," I say to him as I start to pull out all of the disinfectant solutions and gauze to wrap him up.
"That's okay," he says. Our eyes meet, and we both hold the moment for a little too long. I look down and pour the iodine on his palm. His gasp of pain breaks what was between us, bringing us both back to the present.
"Sorry," I say, fumbling for the bandage so I can wrap his hand up.
"Nah," he says. "It's nothing."
