Page 44 of Watch Me Turn
His voice is like a salve on a burn. Soft, and familiar. "No. It's not terrible. You were right about what you said. About belonging, and family, and all that stuff. In many ways my life is better than it was before. I'm strong, I'm valued, I have a purpose... But Sophia…"
"What?"
"None of it means anything without you." He squeezes me tighter, like he's afraid I'll fly away. And when I start to cry, he kisses the top of my crown.
"If it helps, I'm doing terribly without you." I laugh, the sound wrapped in a sob. "The Malditas are furious. I spend every night in that filthy shop doing oil changes. And I constantly smell like a gas station."
The realization hits me like a cold shower as I try to pull away.
"You smell perfect." His hand moves to cup the back of my neck and pull me in. "You are perfect."
I dip my face to hide it. “Even covered in grease with a bandana on?"
"Come on. Even when you were wearing a balaclava, I knew you were beautiful."
I pull back just enough to look at him, my hands framing his face. The teardrop tattoo is fresh, the skin around it still slightly pink. "What's this all about?"
He looks boyish, almost embarrassed. "I got it for you, back at the shop we own in Austin. It tingles and burns constantly, and it will for an eternity, but it's a reminder of your sacrifice and what you did for me."
"Is it bad that I like that?"
He grins. "No, I'd say it's pretty on brand."
I stroke his neck, feeling his slow pulse pushing against his skin, and close my eyes to hear mine. Our two hearts beat together in perfect sync. A rhythmic dance of a maker and a sire.
"La Madre says that dog Lazaro planned all this.” I say. “Him poisoning you, making you sick so I'd give you my blood."
"Then she's a wise woman," he says. "Lazaro is a cold son of a bitch who wants power above all. He's a collector of it. Rare artifacts, strategic sires, anyone he can use to get more influence. It doesn't matter the vessel. He just wants it all."
I shake my head. "And I was stupid enough to walk into his trap."
He places his finger under my chin and tilts my head so I meet his eyes. "None of this is your fault, mi amor. You didn't know. I didn't know. We were both pawns in this."
"Did he hurt you?" I ask, and the thought of those animals laying their hands on him makes my cheeks flush with ire.
"His rabid twins did," he grits. "I had to lie back and take it whilst they tortured me… but every silver burn, every deep cut, I'd do it again if it meant keeping you safe."
I kiss him again, and sigh against his lips. "He won't be able to control you like the others because of my blood," I say. "That must kill him inside. Usually, the older the vampire the less influential the sire is and because you're still a baby," I pinch his cheek, "you should technically be at your most vulnerable to his influence?—"
"The only one influencing me is you, mi cielo," he says against my lips. And for a moment I just stay there. Locked in a kiss I don't want to break away from.
Angel breaks the spell first by pulling back and brushing a strand of hair from my face. His beautiful face a picture of concern. "What about you? How did La Madre react?"
"She clipped my wings," I mutter. "La Madre stopped me from being able to fly."
His jaw tightens, but his eyes are soft. "I'm so sorry. I would give anything to see you fly again."
"Yeah, well." I try to shrug it off, but the loss still aches like a phantom limb. "I've got other ways to get around now. The shop's truck isn't exactly glamorous, but?—"
"About that." He pulls back slightly, and there's something in his expression—nervous energy mixed with barely contained excitement. "I brought you something."
My brow furrows. "What?"
He takes my hand and leads me around to the back of the pickup. The tailgate is down, and even in the low glow of the hazard lights, I can see the tarp covering something large in the bed.
"Angel, what did you?—"
He yanks the tarp off in one swift motion.
