He looks taken aback for a moment, swallowing, his entire body stiff where he’s just kneeling in the dirt, gawking up at me like I’m an alien.
“You don’t want normal, baby bird,” he finally rumbles. “You’re not made for that… Cookie cutter shit. Working for a paycheck, marrying and babies… a white picket fucking fence?? That’s not you. That’s not us…”
My eyes feel abnormally round all of a sudden.
Us…?
I loathe how hopefully my heart still leaps when he says just that one stupid word.
“I thought there was no… us,” I croak.
“Of course there is,” he whispers. But then he clears his throat. “But it doesn’t end with happily ever after, mi amor…”
“So then…what??” I hiss. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Kill me,” he pleads. “Killme, pajarito…”
The fear shining up at me in his coal irises is destroying me. He doesn’twantme to kill him. But he’s convinced himself it’s the only way…
“Or?” I sniffle.
“Noor,” he grunts. “There’s only one way this ends… Sangre por sangre, pajarito.”
“I don’t accept that,” I bark. “There has to be another way… I want another way out.” He huffs, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. “Killing you doesn’t fucking fix anything, Diablo! It doesn’t… Blood for blood is an excuse! A way to unleash the pain and rage of the past without accepting blame. But it’s notreal…”
My mind slips back, to the Tomb in Alabaster Pen, when I spoke to Trevel through the door.
“The best revenge is living a happy, healthy life…”
“The best revenge is not needing it anymore,” I mumble. “I think we all know healthy isn’t what this is,” I motion between us.
Ivory blinks up at me, and I fall to my knees before him.
His eyes widen, that nervous fluttering vulnerability we know he possesses, butrefusesto stop ripping away any time it comes up to the surface. That look on his face is familiar.
Like earlier, I recognize it. And now I remember from where…
Nearly twenty years ago, peering down at me… The man in white, splattered with my parents’ blood. He looked at me then, just like this.
That’s Manuel Blanco.
“And I’m anything but happy right now, Diablo…”
He swallows. “I know… and I told you—”
“But it’s becauseyouwon’t allow it.” I cover his mouth with my palm. “You’re happy with me, and you can’t say you’re not. Nobody would believe that shit…”
I give him an expectant look until he eventually concedes and nods stubbornly.
“And I’ve definitely felt happiness with you, when you’re not driving me absolutely insane,” I murmur, removing my hand from his mouth.
“But what about—”
Rolling my eyes, I slap my hand back over his lips. “Dios mio, you’re fucking insufferable, Diablo! Jesus, enough already!” He glares at me, but I can see the tiniest flicker of amusement in his eyes.
Elation for the fighting he loves, and how I’m clearly not afraid of him.
He craves someone to put him in his place. Someone to obey him when he needs it… And also to fuck him into submission when he’s being a world-class fucking nightmare, which is most of the time.
