He freed his hand, stretching his arm out. “Obviously not.”
“You changed the subject when I asked you a simple question. And your eyes are guarded.”
He stared, unmoving, like a deer that was attempting to avoid a predator.
Raven huffed. “I know you didn’t give me vampyre blood. If you had, my leg wouldn’t be aching. But it’s difficult to believe I slept that soundly and awoke so confused simply as a matter of course.”
“Sometimes oblivion is a blessing.” His voice was low. “There are a thousand things I wish I could forget.”
“You’re scaring me.”
William appeared to consider her remark. He sighed and pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Something occurred that may have affected your memory, but that was an unintended consequence.”
“I don’t like feeling as if my memories are out of my control, whether it was intentional or not. Why do you look guilty?”
He withdrew his hand. “Guilt is for humans.”
“You thought love was a human emotion. Yet you say you love me.”
His expression darkened. “I don’t simply say I love you—I love you.”
She looked down, at the way her right foot turned out at an awkward angle. “We were apart for a month. You were free to pursue anyone you wished, including Aoibhe. You don’t need to erase my memory in order to hide it.”
“I’m not hiding sexual assignations,” William growled. “Aoibhe holds no interest for me. I thought I’d made that clear. The only person I’ve pursued is you. The last time I had intercourse was with you, on top of the loggia. And the time before that was also with you, before you left me.
“I have not lived a chaste life in this body. But I’m not given to profligacy, especially now that I have the woman I want.” William cupped her chin. “I will tell you about last night, after you’ve had something to eat and drink. My goal is to protect you, not harm you. I hope you will come to believe that.”
Raven began to protest, but stopped. She had no reason to disbelieve him. Still, he was hiding something and, however it had come about, some of her memories had been lost.
He’d promised to tell her, though. She could give him the benefit of the doubt, at least until after dinner.
“I need to shower and change before dinner.” She touched the skirt of her dress with dismay, noticing a couple of spots.
William nodded toward the closet. “There are clothes for you. Choose what you wish.”
“You must have expected my return.”
“Not expected.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Hoped.”
“Shower with me?”
William blinked. “Pardon?”
Raven pursed her lips. “I guess I hadn’t thought about this. Do vampyres shower?”
“Of course.” He sniffed. “Our sense of smell is very keen. Some of my brethren have a lax approach to cleanliness, but I make a point of shunning them.”
Raven arched an eyebrow and he continued. “It’s true. A few centuries back a Highlander and one of his near kinsmen applied to join my principality. I rejected them on scent alone.”
Raven laughed, the happy sound filling the large master bedroom.
He appeared pensive. “I’ve never showered with another person.”
“I haven’t, either. But it sounds fun.”
William chuckled and followed her to the en suite bathroom.
As she approached the threshold, she looked over her shoulder and noticed he was staring at her injured leg. Suddenly, she felt warm, and not in a pleasant way.
“I know it’s ugly.”
He stopped. “What is ugly?”
“My leg. The way I walk. The night those men attacked me, one of them called me Quasimodo.”
“Quasi modo? That’s nonsense.”
“They weren’t speaking Latin. Quasimodo is the name of the hunchback in Victor Hugo’s novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”
“And they called you this?” William’s tone was sharp.
“I just remembered it now.”
“I’m glad I killed them, for their blasphemy as well as everything else.”
“I’m glad you saved me, William. I will always be grateful for that. But I’m sorry you killed them.” She turned her back and entered the bathroom.
William scowled, reminded of the prisoner he held in his dungeon some floors below. He followed and turned on the shower, adjusting the water’s temperature. He called her over to test it. Vampyres could sense hot and cold, but only vaguely. He worried the water would be too warm.
Raven watched as he efficiently disrobed, neatly folding every article of black clothing (with the exception of underwear, which he never wore) and placing them on the vanity.
She brushed imaginary lint from her dress as he stood in front of her, naked.
He was under six feet in height, his body lean and strong. Raven took a moment to appreciate the definition of his muscled chest and abdomen and the strong cast to his thighs. Not even a statue carved by the most talented sculptor could create a being with so much perfection. His face put her in mind of an angel, with its intense gray eyes that now looked at her expectantly.
She hid her face. “You said you loved me.”
“I did. What’s more, I meant it.”
“Love is a peculiar thing. I’ve seen it. I’ve even cheered for it. But I never believed it was for me.”
“Why shouldn’t a beautiful, fierce young woman hope for love?”
“Because, as you put it, human beings are shallow.”
“Love is deep.” His rich voice echoed in the bathroom.
“Love is having the power to destroy another person.”
William stepped closer. “Are you afraid of being destroyed?”
“Destroyed, consumed, betrayed.” She fidgeted with the neckline of her gown.
William placed his hand over hers, stilling it. “Love creates; it doesn’t destroy.”
His lips found the place where her neck met her shoulder. He kissed her leisurely, tracing the path of her bared collarbone with his mouth. His fingers brushed her zipper. “Let me.”
He undid her dress, dropping it to the marble tiles. Her bra followed. Finally, she was as naked as he, and his eyes roved her body appraisingly. “Here is a feast for my senses as well as my heart.”
His pale fingers caressed her cheek, her mouth, and her neck. His strong hands cupped her breasts, her abdomen, and her hips. Eventually, his gray eyes met hers.
“The power you describe is the power you have here.” He touched her forehead before moving his hand to cover her heart. “And here. It’s the power you have over me. Power I haven’t yielded to another since I was human.” He brought his lips to her ear. “Your fears are shared.”
With a slow kiss on her neck, he led her into the shower, standing behind her underneath a rainfall showerhead. Raven closed her eyes and lifted her face, like a flower following the sun. The warm water soaked her hair and streamed down the generous curves of her body.
“I’ve never showered with another person. What happens next?” William rested his hands on her shoulders.
She wiped the water from her face. “Whatever you want. Just don’t let me fall.”
William’s gaze dropped to her right leg, which she was favoring. “Is the pain terrible?”
“It’s worse after I’ve been lying down. Sometimes I topple over.”
William spread his arm around her waist, drawing her back to his chest. “Then I must be sure to catch you.”
She kissed him, reaching up to run her fingers through his wet hair as the water poured down their shoulders. Her motions were fraught with an eagerness born of love and affection and the relief of remembering she hadn’t lost him.
He was hers.
Even now, naked, with a myriad of flaws few men overlooked, he embraced her. He embraced her imperfections.
He loved her.
His cool hands scorched her skin, splaying fingers wide over her abd
omen and bringing her backside into contact with what rose between his hips. She gave him her weight and he held firm, nipping and licking at her lips before enticing her to enter his mouth.
He entertained the intrusion for a moment or two, then, with a growl, he spun her around, pressing their chests together.
Raven looked up into blazing gray eyes.
“Are you certain?”
She nodded.
“I need the words, Raven. I need to know you want this.”
“I want you.”
He took her mouth, his tongue alternately penetrating and retreating in a sensual rhythm. She tilted her head, welcoming him, as the water continued to rain down. Hands roamed over slick skin as their lower bodies came into alignment. She touched his neck, his shoulders, his biceps, holding them tightly in an effort to remain upright.
William was not a tame lover. In his arms, she sensed his control, his desire, and the war that waged between the two. But he’d never harmed her and had always focused his attention on giving pleasure before taking it. Usually more than once.
“You’re a dream.” She sighed. “A dream of love I never thought I’d have.”
His eyes burned into hers. Without warning, he lifted her, tugging her thighs around his hips. He lowered his mouth to her breasts, tasting and teasing before sucking droplets of water from her eager flesh.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling him eager between her legs. He lifted her higher, hands beneath her backside, making sure he was correctly aligned.
“Breathe,” he commanded, his eyes boring into hers.
Here was the vampyre, proud and powerful, teetering on the edge of control. He bared his teeth as if by instinct and his chest rumbled.
“Just don’t break me,” she whispered, pushing a lock of blond hair from his forehead.
William’s expression grew even more fierce.
“I won’t break you. Whatever harm I bring to you, I vow to heal.”
He swallowed her reply with his kiss. Then with a single thrust, he entered her.
His kisses were as fierce as his movements as he pushed inside and withdrew, over and over. His grip on her backside tightened as he lifted and moved her in concert with his own motion.
Raven clung to him, her hand trailing to his lower back so she could urge him deeper. Not that he needed the encouragement.
Her breasts brushed against his chest, the friction teasing and arousing. She ignored the warm spray of the water, the scents of soap and William, and the nagging discomfort in her leg and ankle. Her focus was on feeling as he brought her swiftly to the brink of orgasm.
Before she could signal how close she was, she climaxed, her hand clutching his neck as she threw her head back. William continued his pace until she’d finished, his mouth dropping to her breasts, drawing one of them into his mouth.
When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her hungrily.
“I have only begun,” he rasped. “Breathe.”
Chapter Seven
William stood from the bed, not bothering to cover himself. He’d spent two intense hours with Raven, who was now cocooned in a sheet, looking relaxed and happy.
In William’s antiquated mind, none of their activities constituted making love. Love was something that either existed or not; it wasn’t made and certainly not by the (admittedly exquisite) experience of joining bodies.
But he desired the curvaceous woman who watched him over the rim of her wineglass. He hungered for her, body and blood, with a yearning that bordered on desperate.
He also loved her.
He couldn’t help but compare her current state with how she’d been the night before—the tears, the cries, and then the punishing silence. Stefan’s assessment rang in his ears. While he was relieved she’d awoken in her right mind, he worried about how she would react when he told her about her stepfather. He was also anxious over her reaction to his use of mind control, even though he felt justified in using it. These anxieties fouled his mood.
“What are you doing?” Raven placed her wineglass next to a plate of food she’d lazily consumed after their coupling.
“Dressing,” he clipped, pulling on a pair of black jeans (sans underwear). He kept his back to her as he buttoned a black dress shirt, tucking it meticulously into his jeans.
“You’re finished with me.”
At her tone, William whirled around. Raven looked as if she’d been smacked.
“I will never be finished with you.” He gentled his voice as his eyes roved her body. “But your breasts are tender and so is the flesh between your legs. I must wait.”
Raven’s hand dropped to her lower abdomen. “You noticed?”
“Is that a genuine question? Or are you assuming I’d simply use you until you expired?”
She turned away, wincing at his anger.
“Forgive me.” He ground his teeth. “I should have explained that I’m getting dressed because I must feed.”
“You get irritable when you’re hungry. So noted.” Raven gave him a wry look. He sat next to her on the bed and pressed a repentant kiss to her lips.
“You could feed from me,” she suggested.
“I feel the need for something stronger.” His eyes darted to where her hand lay, resting in her lap. “I will feed from you again. Soon.”
She pointed vaguely to where his gaze had alighted.
“Absolutely.” The edge of his mouth turned up. “I think your swollen flesh would benefit from the coolness of my tongue. When the moment is right, I’ll taste the blood that flows through your thigh.”
Raven gaped.
William enjoyed her curious surprise. He also enjoyed the sight of her wrapped in one of his sheets. It was an image that should be captured in a painting and hung on his wall. He wondered if he’d be able to trust an artist to paint Raven in such an intimate moment, even if her nakedness was covered.
Quickly, he realized he wouldn’t.
“Join me in the drawing room. Lucia will direct you.”
“What should I wear?”
He gestured to the sheet.
She frowned. “I can’t go downstairs like this.”
“This is my home. You can wear—or not wear—whatever you like.”
She pulled the fabric around herself more tightly. “Even if it was Halloween and you were hosting a toga party, I wouldn’t walk around wrapped in a bedsheet.”
William was puzzled by her remark but didn’t bother to query her. He moved to the closet and shuffled a few hangers. “I have been looking forward to seeing you in this.” He placed a long, black satin nightgown on the bed.
The gown was elegant but sensual, featuring a plunging back that would expose Raven’s beautiful skin all the way to the top of her bottom. The front was almost as daring, with a deep V that would highlight her generous breasts.
Raven looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Really?”
“There’s also a robe, which in my view is unnecessary. Come to me when you’re ready and I’ll tell you what happened last night.” He tried to keep his tone light, but knew that he failed.
Raven stared intently at the provocative satin that was draped casually across the bed and nodded.
William withdrew to the wine cellar that lay below the villa, deaf to the cries and weeping that emanated from the dungeon. He felt no remorse for holding the pedophile prisoner. He’d always despised pedophiles and had forbidden the practice in his principality.
The beast who lay in the cage down the corridor had violated Raven’s young sister. William had read the reports. He’d also seen photographs of Raven’s injuries.
He knew darkness. He knew evil. But he also knew there were aspects of it that went beyond anything he could understand. He didn’t waste time trying to solve the riddles of evil. Evil had its own logic and it was not something he, given his own moral code, would ever understand.
And humans think we are monsters.
He’d seen a great many things since
the thirteenth century. Very little in human history surprised or shocked him, cloaked as he was in indifference. Yet he was not indifferent to Raven, or to her suffering.
He regretted not killing the pedophile when he had the chance. A death certificate would have made an excellent birthday gift. Why the devil had he hesitated?
William muttered a curse. He knew why.
As his hand hovered over the most valued vintages in his cellar, he paused. It would be easy, far too easy, to kill the pedophile and lie to her about it. But Raven had already demonstrated she could tell when he was being deceptive.
He needed old vampyre blood in order to strengthen his resolve, in order to find the words to tell Raven who he kept in his dungeon. Further, he’d have to confess to using mind control on her. He was not looking forward to that conversation or its inevitable aftermath.
His hands closed on a prized bottle, chosen for the strength its original owner had possessed. William needed the blood of an old liar, long dead, to give him the courage to tell the truth.
A short time later, he sat in a large chair in front of the fireplace, scowling. The summer evening was too warm for a fire, but William liked it. Something about the sight, sound, and scent comforted him.
Raven didn’t complain about the heat. She sat to his right in a matching chair, her uninjured leg curled beneath her, sipping a small glass of Vin Santo.
He’d almost finished. He tried to drink discreetly, so as not to disturb her. But he was determined not to hide his feeding from her.
“Is it good?” She gestured to the ornate gold goblet in his hand.
“Very.” He lifted the drink as if in salute. “It’s from the previous Prince of Florence. Would you like to taste?”
“No, thanks.”
“That’s probably wise. He had vice in abundance.”
William drank sparingly before placing the goblet back on the table. For vampyres, blood and sex went together. Now that he’d fed one appetite, he felt another rise. Lust was certainly one of the old prince’s vices and William felt it pulsing through his system.
He indulged himself in the luxury of admiring his lover’s appearance. Her long black hair was wavy, having air-dried. Her skin held the luminous glow of a woman well bedded and her green eyes were bright and clear.
The Shadow (Florentine #2) Page 4