Page 22 of The Danger Kiss

"Please, make yourself comfortable," I urged, gesturing towards the threadbare couch that occupied the center of the room.

Blanca settled onto the worn cushions without a word, her slender frame dwarfed by the imposing piece of furniture. She sat, unmoving and rigid, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance.

"Would you like something to drink?" I hoped to break the oppressive silence that had descended upon us. "I have water, tea, or perhaps something stronger if you prefer."

“Tea, please. Thank you.”

I busied myself with preparing our beverages, grateful for the opportunity to collect my thoughts and regain my composure. I returned to Blanca's side with our cups of tea cradled carefully in my hands, but I didn’t want to crowd her or make her feel uncomfortable,

Instead, I began preparing our meal straightaway.

I could feel Blanca's violet eyes watching me intently, her gaze like a cold fire. I focused on the task at hand, methodically chopping and dicing vegetables.

I stole glances in Blanca's direction, my heart aching for the fragile girl who had once been my ward and the grown woman who now sat in my home like a queen. It seemed almost inconceivable that this delicate figure, with her pale skin and slender frame, could wield such lethal power.

"Here we are.” I put a plate before her as I took my own seat across the small table. Our dinner was simple, consisting of pan-seared vegetables and rice, but it was a gesture of peace, an offering meant to bridge the emptiness that stretched between us.

"Thank you," Blanca said quietly.

We ate in silence, our forks scraping against the plates the only sound to punctuate the oppressive quiet.

"Once we're done, I'll try the hotel on the other side of the Diesel Dome," she announced, her tone clipped.

"You don't have to go. You can stay here, with me. You can take the bedroom, and I'll sleep on the couch." The words hung heavily in the air, her eyes on me as unyielding as ever.

For a moment, she hesitated, her gaze darting between me and the small room I had offered.

"Alright, I'll stay. But only for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll find another place."

"Of course.” There was something about the way she responded that made me feel relief and apprehension in equal measure.

There was so much I wanted to say to her, but the façade she had erected around herself was as strong as I was persistent.

"Blanca, I am truly glad to see you, regardless of what you may think of me now." My words came haltingly. "If you want, tomorrow I will accompany you to the hotel to make sure you are settled."

"That won't be necessary.” She seemed almost ethereal in her detachment, a specter haunting the edges of my existence – her presence an ever-present reminder of all that had been lost.

"Very well.”

I led her to the bedroom, a small chamber as simple as the living area outside it. The muted scent of sandalwood incense clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly laundered sheets. Sparse furnishings adorned the space, their surfaces worn from years of use by others who had lived here before me.

As I cleared away a few stray items from the bed – a discarded book, a shirt, my prayer beads – I couldn't help but notice the way her violet eyes seemed to absorb every detail of the room, as if committing it to memory for some unknown purpose.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"I need to sleep.” Her answer was as cold as ever.

I nodded. "Goodnight, Blanca. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

But she did not respond. Her silence was so potent and pronounced it almost hurt.

But pain was something I could handle very well.

After closing the bedroom door behind me, I took off my shoes and shirt and retired to the couch. As the darkness closed in, I let the memories of our past wash over me like the tide.

A lost fighter and an equally lost child, both coming into their powers, trying to find their way in a world that was harsh and unforgiving as it was mysterious and fascinating.

She didn’t know how lucky she was to have her family; no matter how strange and cruel they seemed, she still had a home.

---