Page 39 of Love Bites
Josefina turned back to the wall to place her hand against the picture again. Katheryn stared at it. There were pictures of Ignacio as a boy and of him with Josefina. But the one Josefina caressed like a treasure was of a baby, and Katheryn didn’t need to ask to know it was Ignacio.
He was wrapped in a yellow blanket. His chubby cheeks puffed, and his bottom lip pouted. His hair was light brown and fluffy, sticking out around his head. He looked so innocent, so sweet. He didn’t look evil or capable of any wrong doing despite his nature. He was a baby, a vampire baby.
Sure, Ignacio looked plenty like Josefina but there were probably features of his biological father as well. Josefina had said the man had yellow eyes like a snake. Ignacio had yellow eyes, too, but Katheryn liked to think of them as the color of honey. They didn’t look evil or calculating.
“When you found you were pregnant with Ignacio, why did you keep him? Wasn’t it painful to look in the eyes of that man’s child?” Katheryn asked after staring at the pictures on the wall.
“Because he was mine,” she said fiercely. “I no care about the blood of the vampire in Ignacio’s veins. I care only about my son and my blood in his veins. He grew in me. I felt his kick, I sing to him, I dream of my baby. He is mine.”
Katheryn was shaken by the ferocity of Josefina’s love, by her words and her surprising sweetness. The woman in front of her was strong. She’d been raped by a vampire, unable to defend herself, and still, she’d kept the baby. She loved him despite what had happened to her.
“So,Katerina,next time you think Ignacio evil, remember the story ofEl Diablo. It remind you what is true evil. Yes, my son make mistake. But he is man and men make many. He lie to you. But he never take what you not give. He give love always.”
She walked away, leaving Katheryn to think about her words.
Josefina was right, of course. Ignacio had never forced Katheryn to do anything she hadn’t wanted to do. He’d never belittled her, never insulted her or taken her by force. He was always so gentle, so caring. Even when they made love, he was so careful, despite the heat and passion between them. He did everything slowly, gently.
She remembered when he had found her in the alleyway that one night, crying, how he’d thought someone had hurt her. He had looked ready to kill, ready to defend her at all costs.
The only time he’d lost control had been two nights ago when he’d staggered in after drinking and had been all over her, lost in the heat of the moment. Maybe, it had been the alcohol that had driven him over the edge. Maybe, he hadn’t fed off blood for days and had gone crazy with lust. She couldn’t be sure.
All she knew was that only Ignacio could explain it.
So she would wait for him to do that.
“You change your mind? You no leave?” Josefina asked when Katheryn walked into the kitchen to find her stirring a pot at the stove.
Katheryn stood awkwardly in the doorway, gripping the cotton fabric of the nightgown, biting her bottom lip. “I’ll wait for Ignacio to wake up. I’ll talk to him and let him explain.”
“Good.” Josefina smiled merrily and continued to stir her food. When Katheryn didn’t move from the doorway, she turned back to her. “I can help you with something,Katerina?”
“Yes,” Katheryn replied, awkwardly. “Um...I was wondering if you wanted help with that?” She gestured at the stove.
“Oh, yes please.”
“Also...”
“Yes?”
“Would you happen to have any other clothes I could wear?”
17
Ignacio awoke to the sound of voices drifting up to the attic where he’d taken his slumber. Feminine laughter and quiet conversation. He couldn’t quite register it at first. Then he recognized Katheryn’s husky voice. There was no anger in it, no fear, no distress. She sounded...at ease.
He stood quickly, dressed and practically ran downstairs to the kitchen, where the voices came from. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that met his eyes. Katheryn stood at the stove in one of his white button-down collar shirts and black boxers.
She was barefoot and rounded, curved in all the right places. His boxers reached down to the middle of her thighs, and his rumpled shirt hung just above them. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows but slid down with every jerky movement she made. He swallowed at the sight of her.
She poured soup into bowls, chattering away with his mother, who was setting the table with placemats, spoons and cups. Katheryn appeared so calm, he momentarily forgot why she was in his home, and what had transpired between them.
“Katheryn,” he whispered.
She froze, spoon midair and turned to him. Her face was an open book and said it all. A million words flew in his direction, the sharp edges of them slicing through him.
Vampire. Liar. Bastard. Evil.
The words shouted at him. He hurt, but he understood completely. Before he read more of her accusations, he turned and ran from the kitchen up to his room. Shame filled him. Despite her being comfortable with his mother, Katheryn hadn’t forgiven him.
