Page 24 of Drag You Down
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says intently. “You’re so much more than that. I see the yearning in your heart for something more, something better, and I will be the one to give it to you.”
I try to shake my head, to deny it.
But it’s another lie, one I’ve been repeating to myself for longer than I can even remember.
I do yearn.
I do want.
I do wish.
“I can’t have that,” I say unevenly. “That’s not my place in the world.”
“Your place in the world is anywhere you wish,” he replies, every bit as confident as I’m uncertain. “As long as you’re at my side, you can do anything you want. You’re my boy, and I’ll take care of you and give you everything you could ever desire.”
The idea of having choices is so foreign to me. My life is already decided for me. I’m going to support Eve and help care for her future children. I’m going to protect our small congregation. I’ll do as Father Zachariah asks, I’ll take my penance, and day in and out, I’ll simply watch over the others.
What would it feel like to have somebody take care of me for once, to have somebody want to give me presents and pamper me?
“You’re presenting a… a fantasy,” I say. “Something not real.”
Something terrifying.
“It can be real,” he says, his other hand coming up to rest on my opposite shoulder. “You don’t deserve to be afraid, to be miserable, to behurt.” His expression flashes with something dark and cold. “You deserve love and tenderness and for someone to take care of you.”
My face heats up.
The only person who ever touches me is Eve, and even she limits how much she does that.
Sometimes I wonder if I enjoy penance so much because it forces another person to pay attention to me, to patch me up.
Gabriel isn’t the right person for it. I know that. He’s worse than the people out in the city. I saw how he looked at that dying man; I’ve seen the darkness and the hunger in his eyes.
But he’s also the first person to look at me at all.
He’s the only person who wants to be close to me.
“Please,” I whisper, and again I’m not sure what I’m asking for.
“I’ll take care of you, little lamb,” he murmurs back, his voice tender. Then he’s leaning in, and his lips are pressing against mine as he kisses me again. It’s dangerous and terrible and arousing and perfect all at once, and it makes me feel like I’m flying.
There’s no blood on our lips this time, but I smell the copper all the same, and it only makes my blood pump faster. I flex my back, but the pain is nothing compared to this kiss.
His tongue runs gently over my lips, and he says, “Open for me, little lamb.”
I don’t hesitate. I part my lips for him, and his tongue slides inside my mouth.
This should be off-putting, filthy, but I moan into it and lose myself in that strange,wonderfulsensation.
His grasp relaxes on my shoulders, and he starts to slide one of his hands down to my back before pausing. It’s almost enough to break the fantasy of the moment, but then he’s kissing me harder, and it’s all I can focus on.
“You are perfect,” he murmurs against my lips as he draws back to allow us both to take in a breath.
I’m not perfect. If I were perfect, I wouldn’t be here, kissing the Devil.
But I want it to be true. I want somebody to look at me and not see all my failings. I want somebody who doesn’t tell me my soul is dirty.
“I don’t want to think,” I admit.
