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His eyes follow my movements as I circle the cloth around and around his hand. I finally complete my task by tying it off and tucking the loose strands into the folds of the fabric.
"There," I say, pushing his hand back towards him so I can't be tempted to hold onto it. "All done."
"Thank you," he replies, looking at it first, then at me.
There's another moment of silence.
"Raven."
"Teddy," we both say at the same time. I blush and look down at my feet.
"You start," he offers.
I lift my gaze but avoid looking him in the eyes. I feel as if I lose a little piece of my control every time that I do.
"Can you explain to me what happened tonight? What all of it means? Why it required such a serious ceremony?"
He nods his head and beckons me to follow him out of the bathroom. "Come on," he says. "It's sort of a longer explanation."
I sit down on the bed gingerly, and he pulls a chair from the writing desk so he's facing me. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and looks down at the floor. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the picture of the Saint that was passed around the table.
"When you're initiated into the Mafia, at least as far as my family's traditions go, you make your oath to your patron Saint. Mine is Saint Theodore, obviously," he says. "You're supposed to carry this," he says, holding up the bloodstained picture, "around with you as a reminder of your vows.
"Back in the day, there was a boss whose wife was killed for something she saw. It really tore the family apart, and it was decided that every made man should be given one person to bring under the protection of the family."
"One at a time?" I ask, fearing the answer already. "Or, one for your entire life?"
He looks up at me, and just like I expect, another little piece of my control seems to melt away. There's no evil in his eyes. There never has been.
"Just one for your life," he says.
I close my eyes, knowing already where this is going.
"Anyways, you can probably figure out now what that ceremony was for. The blood from the others is to represent their vow to me. The blood from me is to represent my vow to you."
I put my face in my hands. "Teddy, why?"
"Why, what?" he asks.
I look up at him with tears in my eyes. "Why me? You don't know what your life may be. You could have a wife, a daughter, a son. Why throw something so important away for a girl you don't even know anymore?"
"Who says I don't know you?" he asks.
"I do!" I exclaim. "You knew me for all of twelve hours before I ran away from you for a decade."
"So?"
"So! I should be no one to you."
"Please don't tell me who should or should not be valuable to me in my life," he says. "It was my choice. I made it. I don't regret it." He licks his lips. I can see that they’re dry.
"I think you will," I say.
He brings his injured hand up to the side of my face. Slowly, he traces the contour of my lower lip, just barely touching me. I try not to breathe. I try not to let him know just how much his touch affects me.
“Would you rather me let them kill you?" he asks, his voice a little harsher now. He pulls his hand away, leaving me wanting so much more from him.
I'm quiet for a second as I consider his question. "Maybe," I finally whisper.
