Raphael
Page 14
Maria found it difficult to breathe. Mother Superior had always told her she would make a good nun because of her empathy toward others. Right now, as she looked at the man on the bed who was being torn apart by his dark dreams, she knew her Mother Superior was correct.
As Raphael let out another horrific cry, Maria made herself return to the closet, heart in her throat. He wasn’t ready for her touch, for her comfort. She had to let him lead. He had to come to her when he was ready. And she would be waiting.
Everyone, even the most sinful of men, deserved to be cared for. That was exactly what she would do.
So instead of offering Raphael the comfort he so desperately needed, she squeezed her eyes shut. Her legs gave way and she sank to the floor. Maria curled her arms around her bent knees and let the tears fall. Because she knew that kind of pain. She knew the demons that came crawling into one’s consciousness in sleep. The nightmares that felt so real one relived the horror and agonies of dark moments over and over again.
As Raphael let out another tormented groan, Maria laid her head back against the doorframe and cried. She had lived with the pain of her past for years, no one to understand how it consumed her, threatened to destroy all the progress she had ever made. If she was an empath, it was born from experience and personal trauma.
As Raphael’s screams and wails carried on long through the night, Maria wondered if maybe he would understand. Wondered if he could feel sympathy for others or whether that was a part of his soul that was lost. Could he love? Was he capable of that emotion?
When the rooms finally quieted, Maria rose and tiptoed to where Raphael now slept soundly, his sheets haphazardly wrapped around him, preserving his modesty. His brow was damp, and dark circles pitted beneath his eyes. Maria unconsciously reached her hand out, her fingers grazing the soft strand of dark hair that forever fell over Raphael’s eyes. She pulled her hand back, but didn’t move. Her feet were planted to the ground. There was an ache in her chest that compelled her to keep vigil beside this man, this killer.
Because Maria had never met anyone like him. She’d never met anyone who shared the ailment of nightmares that seemed so real they were debilitating. As Raphael rolled to his front, Maria’s eyes fixed on the scars that littered his back. She closed her eyes and could feel the burning of her scars too.
Is that why I’m here? Maria silently asked God. Because I understand? She opened her eyes and looked at Raphael. One dweller of dark, one dweller of light, brought together to collide? To share the burdens of their pasts . . . to heal?
As warmth flooded Maria’s chest, she knew it was the truth. She climbed back into her bed, and she found sleep.
Her duty to Raphael would begin come morning. She didn’t dwell on the flicker of excitement in her heart. She simply placed herself in God’s knowing hands, and fell asleep.
Chapter Eight
Maria awoke to the sound of food being brought into the rooms by a member of staff. She blinked into the lightening room. She stretched her muscles and sat up, just in time for Raphael to appear at her doorway.
His dark hair was damp; he must have already showered. His golden eyes were bright, and if Maria didn’t still have the evidence of dried tears on her cheeks, she would never think that she’d witnessed his nightmares.
Maria’s blood spiked in temperature as she dropped her eyes the minute she broke through her sleep and remembered the rules. “My good little rose,” Raphael praised. Maria felt that praise deep in her bones. “But you can meet my eyes until you’ve eaten and showered.” Maria did as he said. “Come.”
She followed Raphael into the room where they had eaten last night. A domed dish was waiting for her. Raphael was holding a mug of coffee in his hand, the strong, comforting smell settling some of her nerves. He must have already eaten.
As with the previous night, Raphael pulled her chair out for to sit. She ate quickly and in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable. She did it every day at the monastery. Raphael cleared aside the dishes, then offered his hand and guided her into the bathroom. Raphael moved her hair from her shoulder and said into her ear, “When you come out, the rules will apply.” Maria nodded, closing her eyes against the shiver his warm breath brought to her neck. “Do you remember what you are to do first?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Then go.” Maria’s legs were weak as she showered. A new dress was waiting for her in the bathroom, casually hung over the door. After washing her body thoroughly and shaving it of all its hair, she changed into the dress.
Maria’s pulse beat a heady rhythm as she opened the door. As promised, Raphael was waiting for her. He sat on the red chair and wore the same black silk pajama pants as the day before, his chest bare. He rose from the seat and silently stood behind it, waiting. Maria dropped her eyes and sat down, hands on her lap. Raphael immediately began brushing her hair; “Ring a-round the Roses” quietly hummed from his lips. The haunting sound echoed deep in her heart, sending shivers down her spine. Maria’s body was tired, but her mind was wide awake as she wondered what would happen in the coming hours.
She breathed in and out. Whatever awaited her, she was ready. God was with her.
The hot air from the dryer traveled through her tight shoulders, relaxing the muscles as Raphael’s soft singing voice created a soundtrack. She closed her eyes and relished the moment. When Raphael had brushed the final strand of her hair, he came around to face her. She kept her eyes down.
“Lift your head.”
Maria did as commanded, only to see Raphael move to a new vase of roses sitting on a set of drawers against the opposite wall. The roses this time were a deep pink. Maria wondered where they were coming from. Taking the biggest flower, Raphael brought it over and threaded the thorn-less stem behind her ear. When he moved back, the small smile he wore dropped, and he ordered, “Get on my bed.”
Maria’s breathing deepened at the sharp order. She held her hands together as if they were still tucked in her nun’s robes. She quickly got to her feet. Raphael wouldn’t want to be kept waiting. The carpet was soft on her heels and toes, the color a vibrant blood red. Then red gave way to black as she arrived at the side of the bed. She saw Raphael’s feet beside hers. He didn’t say a thing, just waited for her to climb onto the mattress. Maria sat on the edge and kept her head downcast.
Raphael disappeared from sight. When he returned, a spark of nervousness skittered over Maria’s body. “Lie down in the center of the bed.” Raphael’s voice was husky. The deep timbre echoed in her ears and drifted inside her every cell. Maria shifted back and lay down in the middle of the mattress. She kept her eyes downcast, but when the bed dipped she knew Raphael had approached. The black bed linen smelled of his sea-salt scent. It cocooned her where she lay, oddly chasing away some of her remaining unease.
“Tell me,” Raphael said and straddled her lower legs. He didn’t touch her, but that didn’t stop Maria’s heart beating fast at having him above her. “Has anyone ever touched you before?” Dark images of chains and black-as-midnight claustrophobic spaces assaulted her mind. Like aversion therapy, she was thrust back five years. Her skin broke out in ice-cold sweats, and she could feel the deathly weight that used to crush her chest. She could feel her body moving in its small confines, panic taking control. Her eyes closed and, despite trying her hardest to fight it, she was suddenly falling deeply into darkness. Tumbling back into that hell from which she thought she would never escape. She was trapped. The walls closed in as her fingernails snapped as she clawed at the metal walls—
“Open your eyes.” Raphael’s sharp demand wrenched her from her inner nightmare and back into the dimly lit room. When her vision cleared of its blurriness, of the hot tears that were threatening to spill, it was to see Raphael’s bare torso hovering over her, his golden eyes fixated on her face in overt interest. Maria fought for breath, but her lungs were refusing to function. Her fists clenched into the bed sheets just to feel something to ground her. “Breathe.” The mi
nute Raphael’s stern edict poured from his mouth, Maria’s body stilled and her lungs began to clear of their thickness. She kept her eyes on Raphael’s gaze and breathed.
Simply breathed.
Raphael cocked his head. An expression of intense curiosity danced across his beautiful face. “Interesting,” he said quietly, almost to himself. He dropped his attention to her neck and, with the lightest of touches on her chin, guided her head to the side. “The pulse in your neck fluttered so fast when you couldn’t breathe.” The tip of his finger brushed over the still-racing pulse. “Your neck is so soft, the skin so fair, I could see every single movement.” Raphael’s nostrils flared. “It was beautiful. You have the most perfect neck, little rose.” He kneeled again, leaving Maria in a heavy state of confusion. Never taking his eyes off her neck, he amended his original question. “Have you ever been touched, sexually?”
Maria felt her pulse race again. She swallowed, her inexperience creeping through, when she saw his erection twitch in his silk pants. Raphael’s eyes snapped to hers and narrowed in displeasure. “I don’t want to have to ask you again, little rose. Remember the rules. I won’t tolerate them being broken.”
“No, my lord,” Maria answered quickly, earning an approving nod from Raphael. That commendation lightened the crushing weight in her chest. “I have never been touched.”
“Mm,” he pondered, then reached behind him. When he faced her again, he held an object in his hand. It had a black stem, and red feathers of varying lengths and widths on the end. Maria’s lips parted as Raphael threaded the feathers through his fingers. The string that bound his finger was firmly in place, his index finger sporting a faint blue hue. Maria was hypnotized by the slow motion of the soft feathers being caressed by Raphael’s calloused hands. “I’m going to touch you, little rose. We’re going to begin our playtime.”
Raphael’s hand dropped to her ankle. Maria jumped at the feel of a man’s touch on her virginal skin. But Raphael’s hand was soft, warm. It slowly began to journey north, leaving goosebumps in its wake like a harsh winter wind kissing a bared neck. But just as Maria grew used to Raphael’s hand on her skin, he pulled it back. Heat flooded to Maria’s core. She felt her cheeks blaze as she squeezed her thighs together at the unfamiliar tingling between her legs. Raphael crawled over where she lay. Maria kept her eyes downcast like she was supposed to do.
“Look at me.”
Maria took a deep breath as her eyelids fluttered and she met Raphael’s dilated gaze. His head dipped low, and he traced his nose from the base of Maria’s neck to the edge of her jaw. She gasped at the feel. Her toes curled, and she did everything in her power not to move. When Raphael’s nose moved over her cheek, his lips ghosted to her ear. “I’m going to make you come, little rose. Come so fucking hard.”
Maria’s eyes squeezed closed as her chest tightened at the crassly spoken carnal promise. The vow sank into her rushing blood and, like coal, heated her body from within. Raphael smiled as if he knew the effect he had on her. He moved until his face was merely an inch from hers. “I’m going to watch these cheeks bloom and flush with red like the little rose you are.”
Raphael waited. He waited until Maria’s breathing fell in sync with his. Then he was moving his hands down her body, fingers crawling reverently toward her feet. When he straddled her thighs again, he took the feathers in his hands. He licked his lips, then lowered the feathers to her feet. When the softness touched her skin, Maria gasped and involuntarily shifted her foot. Raphael stopped. Maria didn’t lift her eyes. Electricity surged through her body, as if her very being were made of live wires and static sparks. It brought all her dormant synapses that had long been repressed to life. “Don’t move,” Raphael ordered.
“Yes, my lord.”
A low groan came from Raphael’s mouth. Maria almost clenched her thighs together at the illicit feeling the sound delivered to her core. But she resisted, sucking in a deep breath. She wasn’t allowed to move. The feel of the feathers returned, only this time they were on her calf. Maria tried to resist her need to move, to react to the feel of the feathers tickling her skin. “My good little rose.” His flattery made something in her stomach flare and send a wave of happiness to her heart. Any conflicted thoughts were pushed away when her dress lifted at the sides. Maria’s eyes widened. Her breath caught. “Breathe,” Raphael reminded her. But the feathers were now caressing her lower thigh.
This is what he needs, she reminded herself. It is what you need to do save him.
Raphael shifted, the feathers disappeared, and suddenly his hand was at the strap of her dress. Delicately holding the material between his finger and thumb, Raphael pulled the strap down. Maria’s skin sang as more and more of her was bared, relishing the sudden kiss of cold air. When the dress fell away and her breast was freed, the safe word hung on the tip of her tongue. She knew this was her path. She knew what she had been chosen to do. But it was so much—the foreign sensations, the too-strong feelings, and Raphael . . . Raphael over her, his body large and domineering. The effect he had on her senses, her heart . . .
Yet when the cool breeze in the room circled her flesh and Raphael hissed as though the very sight of her naked breasts was too much to bear, a sense of purpose centered her where she lay, assuring her she was exactly where she needed to be.
It’s okay to let go.
Raphael needs you. He needs it to be this way. He needs to trust you, want you . . . he needs to see you. See the light in your soul.
So she let go. She surrendered herself to Raphael’s expert touch. Maria felt her nipple harden in the cool of the room and under the attention of his golden eyes. His hand moved to her thigh, and he moved her dress up until she felt fresh air kiss the apex of her thighs.
Even in the room’s cold chill, her body began to welcome the fire. Every part of her was heated, her senses on high alert. So when Raphael brought the feathers to her breast, the soft strands licking at her flesh, Maria moaned, the sound startling and foreign to her ears. But Raphael’s ministrations didn’t falter even under her moans and surprised gasps. The feathers danced over her nipple until Maria found it impossible to catch her breath. Raphael pushed and pushed, circling and circling until she was a coil wound to its limit. Her mouth became dry as her lips parted. Eyes closed, she simply felt.
Pressure built at the base of Maria’s spine. She craved something. Something she couldn’t describe, something just out of her reach. She began to climb, her senses and breathing under Raphael’s command, but then he moved the feather away, denying her the forbidden fruit she craved.
“Eyes on me,” Raphael ordered. But the tone of his voice had changed. It was still demanding and unyielding, warranting no refusal, but it now had a dangerous edge. As if he were balancing on a delicate precipice of losing control and smothering her will. Maria obeyed his command. His pupils were blown, and he wore a feral, savage expression. The severe look should have marred his beautiful face. If anything, the wickedness that gleamed in his face made his beauty almost preternatural. “Watch me.” She couldn’t look away if she tried. He licked his lips. His stubbled cheeks were flushed with red. Raphael lifted the feathers, never breaking from her gaze as he lowered them to her thighs. Maria sucked in a breath, only for it to become trapped in her throat when Raphael used his free hand to gently part her legs. The pulse in Maria’s neck that Raphael was so fascinated by began to thump as fast as a drum. Raphael’s breathing sped up too, his toned and tanned chest beginning to glisten with a light sheen of sweat. Maria didn’t need to see if he was excited. She could tell by his flushed face and lowered lashes that he was as far gone as she.
He’s letting go. He feels you, feels the goodness in your soul.
In that moment, Maria felt something she had never experienced in her life—assurance that everything she had been through was for a reason. For this moment right now. To save this man and bring him back into God’s embrace. She was a vessel, the willing servant who would make it so.
Maria cried out as the feathers passed over her clitoris. “Feel it,” Raphael said and circled the feathers over and over where she could barely stand its touch. Maria’s hands dug into the bedsheets, clawing at the soft material. She could barely focus. Her back arched against her will. In all her years she had never felt anything like it. It was all encompassing, overwhelming, yet provoked the most intense craving all at the same time.
Raphael wasn’t faring much better, it seemed. Cheeks flushed and breathing shallow, he never ceased in his maddening rhythm on her clit as he crawled over her. His scent wrapped around her, only heightening the moment, and his warmth engulfed any coldness that remained in the small space between them.
Maria’s gaze never moved from Raphael the entire time, locked into his stare. Pressure built in her spine, and it took everything she had not to move, not to rock her hips against the feathers torturing her and pulling her body apart. She couldn’t take the unfamiliar sensation, yet needed more—so much more. Silently pleading with her blue eyes, she begged Raphael for more. Embracing the feel and abandoning her worries and cares, Maria gave herself to this man. This man who was lowering his mouth to her breast.
Maria cried out, the agonized moan echoing around the room as Raphael’s lips wrapped around her nipple and sucked. Her legs began to shake as the feathers moved back and forth, around and around, Raphael’s hot tongue mimicking the action on her nipple. Raphael groaned, and the deep husky sound vibrated through her to her soul. She fought the insatiable need to thrust her hands into his messy hair. She fought the need to caress his olive skin, feel the muscles flex underneath her palm. Raphael’s eyes stayed locked on hers as she climbed higher and higher to whatever unknown peak the feathers and his tongue were elevating her to.