The Shadow (Florentine #2)

by Sylvain Reynard

  “When he was finished drinking from me, he whispered in my ear, asking if I wanted the life he could give me.” William’s eyes fixed on Raven’s. “I said yes. In that moment, I felt his power. I felt the pull to join him. And I felt relief from my suffering. He placed my mouth on his neck and told me to drink.

  “At first, I was horrified, but he kept whispering, ‘I will give you life. I will take your pain away. You will be my son.’” William shuddered, turning toward the gardens. “I drank.”

  Raven placed her arms around his waist from behind, hugging him. He stood stiff and still, not touching her.

  “What happened next?” Her voice was muffled by his jacket.

  “The transformation takes time. It’s painful and confusing. I was barely conscious through most of it. No sooner had I swallowed the first taste of his blood than I felt regret. But I kept drinking.” His hands clenched into fists. “I was angry, I was in despair. Yet, even as I knew I was making a terrible mistake and unwilling to stop making it, I sent a feeble prayer to my teacher, begging his forgiveness, begging for him to pray for me.”

  William placed his hands against the glass, head bowed.

  “When I awoke, my body was as you see it now. My maker was standing over me with a look of triumph. He pulled me to my feet and said that he would show me my new gifts. And that’s how my life as a vampyre began.”

  She hugged him more tightly, not knowing what to say.

  “My maker was extremely powerful, which probably explains my strength.”

  “Could he walk in the sun?”

  “No.”

  “But you can.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a mystery.”

  “Perhaps. I spent time with my maker, who, true to his word, treated me as a son. One day I realized the normal things that deterred vampyres had little effect on me. I was wise enough to realize my discovery was something I should keep secret. On that day, I went to my maker and took my leave, saying I wanted to make my own way in the world. He gave me a father’s blessing and I left.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I returned to the place where my teacher died—out of sentimentality, perhaps. I don’t know. I traveled up the hill and found that the items I’d left behind were still there. It was as if they were waiting for me. Without thinking, I picked them up. It was only later I realized they had power over other vampyres, but not me.”

  “The relics,” she whispered. “They belonged to your teacher.”

  “Yes.” His posture softened and he placed his arms around her. “They are all I have left of him. I don’t know why they have no effect on me, but they don’t.”

  “If I were a superstitious person, I’d suggest they were a gift.”

  William’s eyebrows drew together. “From whom?”

  “Your teacher.”

  “He wouldn’t give a gift to a creature like me.”

  “He had compassion for your suffering when he was alive,” she said softly. “I don’t believe in an afterlife. But if I did, I would expect your teacher to have compassion on you still.”

  “He’d be like the Curia—nobly disapproving.”

  “Nothing you’ve told me about him and nothing I’ve read about him suggests he was that kind of person.”

  William gave her a half smile. “You’ve read about him?”

  “You forget, I went to a Catholic college. Your teacher was—”

  William pressed his fingers to her lips. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “In my present state, I am unworthy to speak his name or to hear it.”

  “I don’t believe that. I don’t think he’d believe that, either.”

  William’s gaze bent to the floorboards and all at once, he looked like a boy. “He’d be ashamed of me for losing hope.”

  “You were young. You’d experienced a great loss. I understand this. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “I accepted what my tempter offered, knowing it to be wrong. That means I committed a mortal sin.”

  “You were overwhelmed by grief. And even if you weren’t, in that moment you asked for your teacher’s help. You must have regretted your decision.”

  William lifted his eyes to study her. For a moment, his guilty expression faded. Then, like a cloud determined to block out the sun, it returned.

  Raven reached up to kiss the edge of his frown.

  “Now I understand why you were so upset when I told you the feral called him a pedophile.”

  William’s teeth ground together. “I would have killed it for the insult. Fortunately, by the time you told me, it was already dead.”

  “Did you come to Florence once you’d retrieved the relics?”

  “No. My memory of my human life was beginning to fade. But I remembered everything about my teacher and about Alicia. I returned to York as a vampyre, determined to exact justice.”

  “And did you?”

  “I didn’t rest until I’d found her killers. They were a band of brutes who’d been passing through the city. I hunted them, tortured them, and threw their bodies on a pyre. But it was too late for Alicia. I thought that as a vampyre I might have had the power of resurrection.” He closed his eyes. “I was wrong.”

  He peered down at Raven sadly. “I’d spent time in Florence with my teacher. It was a beautiful city—full of artists and intellectuals. I decided to return. The Prince allowed me to join his principality and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “I understand how it feels to lose a father. I’m sorry about your teacher.”

  “Your surrogate father has returned.” William’s tone grew ominous. “Would that my teacher would make the same trip.”

  “Father Kavanaugh told me to leave you. He said it was dangerous for me to be with you.”

  “He’s right.” William withdrew from her embrace and looked out over the gardens. “If the Curia comes, you’ll be caught in the middle.”

  “Father Kavanaugh said he’d protect me.”

  “He will side with the Curia.” William gave her a look filled with resolve.

  “Then we have to keep the Curia from coming.”

  “No,” said William harshly. “I need to keep the Curia from coming. If they come, you must flee the city.”

  “No. You tried to get me to leave before, remember? And I refused. I’m not leaving you or the city. I love you, William Malet. I’m staying with you.”

  William’s eyes burned with gray fire. He pulled her into his arms, penetrating her mouth with his tongue. She clutched his shoulders, holding on desperately as his kiss claimed her.

  Without warning, he backed her up against the nearest bookcase, pressing his body against hers.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  William’s left hand cupped the back of Raven’s head, cushioning her against the bookshelf. He licked at the inside of her mouth, his tongue teasing hers before withdrawing. She followed, eagerly tasting him, her fingers creeping up his neck to twist in his hair.

  There was no space between them. His unyielding body pressed against her soft curves, the contact enticing.

  She hummed as his hand slid to her waist, tracing the band of her jeans before popping the button. Raven took that opportunity to tug his dress shirt from his pants, undoing buttons and pushing the shirt over his muscular shoulders.

  With a growl, William tossed the shirt to the floor.

  In the flickering candlelight, she pulled back to examine him—his defined chest and abdominals, his strong deltoids and biceps. Her finger made a lazy circuit around his navel, and she smiled as he closed his eyes and groaned.

  Feverishly, he took her mouth, unzipping her jeans and dragging them over her hips. He knelt before her, tearing at her underwear until it fell. Carefully lifting her injured leg to his shoulder, he nuzzled the inside of her upper thigh with his nose.

  When his tongue made contact with the flesh between her legs, her head snapped back, slamming against the bookshelf.

  “Ow,”
she cried, not quite seeing stars.

  William lifted his face, his perfect lips glistening in the semidarkness. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded sheepishly, placing her hands on his head in an effort to steady herself. She toyed with his blond hair as he continued to lick, teasing and tantalizing with every stroke.

  The leg she was standing on began to shake. William’s cool hands cupped her backside, bracing her against his mouth.

  Her head moved from side to side mindlessly as inchoate noises escaped her throat, echoing in the cavernous room.

  He slowed his pace once she climaxed, but continued to caress her, until the sensation was too much and she tried to push him away.

  Abruptly, he stood, eyes like glittering embers with a face fierce with longing. He picked up his discarded shirt and passed it over his face before throwing it aside once again.

  Raven trembled against the bookshelf, her legs like rubber. He lifted her, pulling her legs to encircle his hips. His left hand cradled her head, shielding her from harm.

  He brought his nose to hers. “When I am alone, I long for your taste. You are like honey on my tongue. I could feed on you for eternity.” He tugged at the buttons of her shirt.

  Soon her shirt and bra joined his clothes on the floor, a tangle of discarded fabric.

  She kissed the side of his face as his mouth dropped to her breasts, embracing the round, full flesh before drawing a nipple between his teeth. She clasped his head to her chest, savoring the sensation of his cool tongue.

  He laved her nipples, alternating between them. His hand moved to her backside, supporting her as he positioned himself between her legs.

  With one quick, deep thrust he was inside her. She gasped at the exquisite fullness, clutching his shoulders.

  His mouth moved to her neck as he moved eagerly in and out.

  It was almost too much, the feeling of him rubbing against her sensitive flesh. Without warning, she felt her excitement crest and she bit down on his shoulder.

  With a growl, William’s teeth sank into her neck and he began to suck, drinking the warm, flowing blood from her artery.

  She seemed to float away from her body as another wave of pleasure overwhelmed her. He drank as she floated, swallowing her life down his throat as he thrust into her.

  His hips stilled as he found his release. He withdrew his teeth from her neck and gently licked at the wound.

  Raven’s breathing grew shallow and her heart rate began to slow. Then her body began to convulse.

  William’s eyes snapped open.

  “Cassita?”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Strong hands surrounded her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Raven relaxed against cool, smooth skin, unable to translate the mysterious words being whispered in her hair.

  She murmured, satisfaction thrumming through her, and felt William’s palm cover her heart.

  He was feeling her heart beat.

  When she opened her eyes she found herself cocooned by William’s naked body. His eyebrows were drawn together, his eyes dark and distressed.

  “You’re all right.” His tone sounded like a question.

  She smiled. “You could say that. You’re very generous with your attentions.”

  William’s face was grim. “I thought I’d taken too much.”

  “I feel light-headed, but I always feel that way when you make me come.”

  He returned her smile, albeit hesitantly. “I’ll try to remember that. Nevertheless, I need to be more careful. It will be difficult because I love how you taste—every part of you.”

  She nestled in his arms. “What would happen if you drank too much?”

  William stiffened, the tendons in his arms rising below the surface of his skin.

  “You’d die.”

  Raven froze. She thought back to a nightmare she’d had not long before—a nightmare in which William had fed from her until he’d drained her.

  She cringed.

  “I’ll be more careful, I swear. It’s just that you—I feel—” He faltered, his grip on her tightening.

  “I feel it, too,” she responded quietly. “If I could consume you, I would. I want you that much. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning and you’re the only one who can save me.”

  He nodded once, grinding his teeth together.

  “I don’t want to be separated from you, William. When you left me with Father Kavanaugh, I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”

  “I shall always come back,” he whispered.

  “Do you promise?” She gazed up at him in earnest.

  “Insofar as I am able, I promise.”

  “Good.” She kissed the space over his heart, relaxing in his arms once again.

  “I need to take you to bed. You have to work in a few hours.”

  Raven sighed. “Work. I forgot.”

  He kissed her ear. “Come, my love. Come to my bed.”

  Still naked, he carried her to the hall and up the grand staircase to the second floor.

  “If this is what it is to be damned,” he murmured, “then may I never be forgiven.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Raven appeared for work at the Uffizi the following morning, having had only a few hours’ sleep.

  Not that she minded.

  She still had misgivings over the fact that William had left her when confronted with Father Kavanaugh. A niggling feeling in her stomach challenged her acceptance of his explanation. She didn’t want to see conflict between the two men she loved. But she felt abandoned, just the same, and was still feeling its aftershocks.

  William had been vulnerable to her, laying bare his past grief and fears. It was an especially intimate experience, even before they’d made love. For the rest of her life she would remember his beautiful, young face and haunted eyes as he told her about standing on the top of a hill, overcome with grief. Indeed, her mind could focus on little else that Monday morning.

  And that was why as she neared the employees’ entrance to the Uffizi, she dropped her guard, allowing someone to surprise her.

  “Signorina Wood.”

  Raven jumped.

  She turned and found Ispettor Batelli standing nearby. He was not wearing a happy expression.

  “It’s time for us to talk, Signorina Wood. You’ve avoided me long enough.”

  Raven favored him with her back. “You aren’t supposed to talk to me. You were reprimanded for harassing me.”

  “I’m still in charge of the investigation. Despite what the newspapers say, I know Agent Savola wasn’t murdered by the Russians.”

  Raven forced herself to keep going, leaning heavily on her cane. Batelli followed, dropping his voice so only she could hear. “Savola worked exclusively on cases involving stolen art. He had no connection with organized crime.”

  Raven ignored him, moving closer to the door.

  “He was murdered near your apartment, after you were investigated by us in connection with the robbery here. He’d been following you for some time. Tell me, how long have you been sleeping with William York?”

  Raven somehow lost her footing and pitched forward. Batelli caught her elbow, keeping her upright.

  “Don’t touch me!” She yanked away from him, nearly toppling over.

  “Interesting,” he said, his eyes calculating. “Interesting how you and Gabriel Emerson seem to be the only persons who recognize that name. Yet, neither of you wish to discuss him.”

  The inspector moved to block her path. “Are you fond of Switzerland?”

  “If you don’t get out of my way, I’ll make a scene. Leave me alone.” Raven gripped her cane tightly.

  “William York made a large donation to the Uffizi two years ago. It was wired from a Swiss bank that, of course, refuses to disclose any information. The Mercedes that drives you around is registered to a Swiss diplomat. And Professor Emerson bought his illustrations from a family in Cologny, Switzerland.”

  “I’m leaving.” Raven skirted the in
spector and placed her hand on the door.

  He pressed his palm flat against the door, holding it shut.

  “I know whatever I tell you will be conveyed to him. So give him this message. I learned from Savola’s mistake. If anything happens to me, William York will be exposed.”

  Against every instinct to suppress a reaction, Raven looked up at him, eyes wide.

  Batelli leaned closer. “Tell him to place the illustrations, undamaged, in a secure location. He can have someone send an anonymous tip and we will retrieve them.”

  Raven tugged on the door and he stepped back, allowing her to open it.

  “This is far from over.” His voice followed her into the gallery as she quickly shuffled away from the door.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “And then there were four,” Niccolò remarked dryly, surveying the remaining Consilium members, excluding the Prince.

  Niccolò, Lorenzo, Aoibhe, and Stefan of Montréal assembled in the council chamber underground, awaiting their ruler. He’d cut short their normal rest during daylight for urgent matters pertaining to security.

  “Any news from Pierre and Max?” Aoibhe trained her dark eyes on Lorenzo, the second in command.

  He reacted with visible annoyance, his hand tightening on the staff of Florence he always held during formal assemblies. “We received a message they’d reached Paris, but nothing since.”

  Aoibhe’s gaze moved to Niccolò. “That’s a bit odd, don’t you think? How long would it take to kill a few humans and throw their bodies under the Eiffel Tower?”

  “A bit of finesse is required in these matters.” Niccolò’s voice echoed in the large, almost empty chamber. “Not that you can appreciate such things.”

  With a snarl, she flew at him, teeth bared. He stepped to the side and, with a flick of his foot, swept her legs out from under her. She crashed to the ground with a loud cry.

  Niccolò looked down at her, making eye contact before he spoke. “Not all of us are blinded by your beauty, female. You’d best remember that.”