34
Sex always looked pretty damn impressive in the movies. Domingo kind of wondered how the actors managed to make it seem so effortless—pretty, even—when it was terribly chaotic in real life, and he fumbled it when he had the fleeting chance to sleep with a girl. Though he supposed he hadn’t fumbled it too badly this time around. Well, he hoped he hadn’t or that at the very least he wasn’t as clumsy as usual.
Atl lay curled on her side, naked, her back to him. She looked rather spectacular and he realized that he’d probably told her she was pretty far too many times—maybe she figured those were the only words he knew—but he felt like saying it again.
Atl was touching the bandage on her arm. He pressed his face against her nape, wanting to feel her close.
“Are you scared?” Domingo asked. “About tomorrow, I mean.”
“No,” Atl said. “Not more than I’ve been during this whole trip.”
“Where are we going to go after we reach Guatemala?”
“Brazil.”
“I don’t think they speak Spanish there,” he said, suddenly worried.
“You run away with a vampire and the thing that concerns you the most is that you won’t be able to speak the language?”
“I guess.”
She chuckled. “It’ll be fine. It’s one of the benefits of having money. And I’ll have quite a bit of money once I’m abroad and can access all of my accounts.”
Domingo sat up and looked at the tattoo on her back. Now that he had a better chance to examine it, it seemed to him that the hummingbird had a definite, defiant expression that matched Atl’s own proud scowls. He touched the drawing, his fingers resting on the wings. “Can you fly?” he asked.
“Yeah. In a way. It’s more like … I can glide, I suppose. I can beat my wings a bit in the air, though if you were comparing me to a bird I’d be flying more like a turkey than a sparrow. It’s not that impressive.”
“That means you have wings.”
“Yes.”
“Bat wings or bird wings? Not butterfly, right? I saw a picture of a lady that had butterfly wings once, but I think that was a fairy in some children’s book.”
“Bird.”
“How come I haven’t seen your wings?”
“No need for it. It’s kind of private,” she said, sounding shy, which surprised him.
“You’ve seen me naked,” he said.
“That’s different.”
“How come?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You ask a lot of questions. You’ve also seen me naked. I’d say that equation is well balanced.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing your wings.”
“You’re not that cute,” she replied.
Cute. That sounded really good to him, although now that he thought about it, she’d probably been with very handsome gentlemen. Vampires, rather. Vampires that didn’t have awful teeth like him. They probably had really good teeth. If they went to South America, or even farther, would they be hanging out with other vampires? Would Atl be whisked away by a billionaire bloodsucker with a Transylvanian accent?
He traced the head of the hummingbird with his hands and kissed her shoulder blade.
“Do you know why it’s a hummingbird, and not a raven or a swan or something else?” she told him.
“Why?”
“Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec god of war, was called the left-handed hummingbird. His father was a ball of feathers.”
“For real?”
“Yes. His mother swallowed a ball of feathers and he sprang from her womb, fully formed, dressed in his feathered armor. There was a temple dedicated to him, right here in Mexico City, and my ancestors were warrior-priestesses in that temple. The priestesses were very brave. They fought in great battles. My family was heroic. Not like me.”
Atl undid the bandage to look at her arm. It was still a stump, though the flesh had healed completely and looking at it one might have imagined she hadn’t had a hand for years and years.
“I feel like it’s still there,” she told him. “I try to move my fingers, but I can’t.”
“If it makes you feel any better, that guy who attacked you is probably hurting more than you are. And looks a lot crappier.”
She smiled, though soon enough she was frowning, her face draining of its mirth. “I suppose you don’t really want to see this,” she muttered, clumsily winding the bandage.
“Here, let me,” he said. He recalled how upset she’d been before, angry at needing his help, and he bit his lip thinking she’d protest. But Atl did not seem upset. When he finished bandaging her arm again, she mussed his hair. He turned his head and kissed her.
His previous attempts at kissing had been rather embarrassing, the excitement making him tremble and flounder, but now he did it right.
“You’re getting better,” she said, seemingly agreeing with his assessment.
“Practice makes perfect,” he replied cheekily, swinging his arms over his head and lying back on the bed.