“You may speak to the woman you rescued and find out what she knows. You are to accompany her to America as soon as she has been healed. You may return here afterward.”
“Yes, your eminence.” Father Kavanaugh’s shoulders slumped as he bowed and took his leave.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ISPETTOR BATELLI STARED at a series of blood droplets that led from Via Ghibellina into an alley. The blood was old, not fresh, and seemed to form a trail that ended in front of a rusty metal door.
The inspector scowled in the morning sun, searching for a means of opening the door, but there was none. He curved his fingers around the edge, trying to pry it open.
He had no idea what was behind the door. It had taken some time to follow up on the mysterious text he’d been sent. No one in the carabinieri seemed to know anything about an underground club on Via Ghibellina. He’d searched in vain for two days.
Now he’d found blood.
Batelli removed his cell phone from his pocket and called his supervisor. Perhaps the blood had nothing to do with Raven Wood and William York. Perhaps it had everything to do with them.
As Batelli explained what he’d found, he was completely unaware of the vampyre watching him through a security camera.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
RAVEN SLEPT LIKE THE DEAD. There really was no other description for it.
William left her side for a few hours to check on his principality and meet with Gregor, the newly minted head of security.
Ispettor Batelli’s presence outside Teatro had caused Gregor a good deal of anxiety, especially since he’d witnessed the execution of two heads of security in the past few years.
But the Prince reacted to the news calmly, instructing Gregor to order their contacts within Florence’s police force to protect the secrecy of Teatro and bring Batelli to heel. The Prince then registered his displeasure at the hunting party’s inability to locate and destroy Ibarra.
Gregor promised to double the party’s numbers, privately planning to use some of his almost non-existent liberty to hunt the traitor personally. The Prince indicated Gregor’s solution to be satisfactory, for the moment.
The sun was beginning to set as William returned to the villa. He drew the curtains in his bedroom and threw open the balcony doors, letting in a refreshing breeze.
Raven stirred.
William sat at her side, watching. She looked so young, so beautiful, her cheeks rosy with sleep and her long, black hair alluringly mussed.
He pushed a lock back from her face and her green eyes opened.
“Good evening,” his rich voice rumbled. He bent down to taste her lips. “Did you rest well?”
“Yes, but I’m still tired. And sore.” She winced as she extended her legs under the covers.
“I can fix that.”
She smiled crookedly. “I just need a hot bath.”
William pulled back the covers and moved over her. Her body was soft and pliable beneath his. “I have an alternative.”
He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her, lightly at first, and then more urgently.
Raven returned his embrace, her tongue entering his mouth.
They kissed until William’s lips trailed to her neck. He grazed the flesh with his teeth.
Raven stiffened. “No.”
“Why not?” He sucked her neck without breaking the skin.
Her hands dropped to his shoulders. “Because I’m filthy. And sad.”
“You aren’t filthy.” He nuzzled the path of her carotid artery. “You smell delicious.”
She pushed his shoulders.
William’s brow furrowed. “We are home. We are safe. We should be celebrating.”
“My sister.” Her whisper was anguished. “I stood there while they carried her away. I shouldn’t have left her.”
William looked puzzled. “You had no choice.”
“I did, actually. I chose you.”
William blinked. “Is that choice so terrible?”
“She’s my sister.”
The vampyre prince dropped his mask, but only for a moment. He released her and sat upright, distancing their bodies. “I didn’t realize you regretted your decision.”
“I didn’t say I regret it,” she said quietly. “But being forced to choose between my sister and my lover was painful. Even more so because I knew that if I went after her, it would mean your destruction.”
William’s features remained blank. “I’m sorry. I thought you chose to be with me out of love, not out of your usual commitment to protecting people.”
Raven flinched.
The Prince avoided her eyes and stood. “I shall leave you to your bath. Good evening.”
He turned his back.
She lifted to her knees and reached for him. “William.”
He glowered at the hand that grasped his elbow.
“I love you, William. I also love my sister. She came to Florence for me and lost the love of her life. Can you imagine how that feels?”
“Yes, I can.” His words were clipped.
She sank back on the bed.
“I know you lost Alicia. I’m so sorry.” Raven released him. A tear spilled over her dark lashes.
William cursed in the language of his youth.
He reached out a finger to catch her tear. “Don’t weep.”
Two more tears welled in Raven’s eyes and dropped to her cheeks.
He wiped the wetness away with his thumbs. “From the moment I looked into those great, green eyes, it was you.
“Alicia wasn’t the love of my life, you are. Please don’t regret choosing me.” William’s voice was a pained whisper.
“I love you,” she managed.
“You are my choice, my destiny, my blessing, and my curse. If I were to lose you, my life would be over.” He kissed her forehead and sat down, drawing her into his arms. “Because of you, love has entered my cursed existence. In comparison with the great fire of my love for you, everything else is merely an ember.”
He rested his chin on top of her head.
“We don’t have spies within the Curia, but we have informants in Vatican City. I will inquire about your sister.” He tightened his arms around Raven’s body. “If I learn she’s being mistreated, I shall intervene. You have my word.”
“Thank you.” She wiped at her face with her sleeve.
“You are my great love, Cassita. I hope, with the Roman’s support, we will have peace.”
“Me too.”
They sat there for some moments, until Raven’s tears had subsided and her body had relaxed.
Only then did William stand.
“I believe someone was in want of a bath.” He kissed her forehead. “I shall go in search of your dinner.”
He exited the room with a look of concern on his face.
Raven walked to the bathroom, her heart heavy and her mind full.
“You look like a river nymph.”
Raven’s eyes snapped open.
William lounged in the doorway to the bathroom, his lips turned up, his eyes intent and predatory.
She averted her gaze, her pale cheeks ripening. “I was just about to trade the bathtub for a shower and wash my hair.”
“Allow me.” He stalked toward her.
“You’d wash my hair?”
“I shall try.”
“Do you know how?”
His brow crinkled. “I believe I am familiar with the general procedure.”
He removed a pitcher from the bathroom counter and retrieved shampoo from the shower. He placed the items on the platform in which the immense bathtub was set.
“Please add more hot water.” He gestured to the faucet.
Raven sat up and turned on the water.
William removed his clothes,
folded them and placed them on the vanity.
There was something godlike about his appearance. His face edged from handsome into beautiful with fine features and an elegant mouth. His body was lean and well-defined, his muscles proportioned.
His perfection never failed to stun her. Even though she’d spent so many times naked with him, Raven could not help but gaze at him in wonder.
Without ceremony, he switched the water off and stepped into the tub behind her. Placing his legs on either side of her body, he coaxed her to lean back.
“You’re going to wash my hair like this?” she asked.
He arranged her long locks behind her shoulders. “I want to touch you.”
As if in demonstration, he lifted his knees, cocooning her between his hips. He pressed his hands to her shoulders and kneaded the muscles lightly before smoothing his palms down her back.
She shivered.
“Add more hot water.” He rubbed her arms up and down.
“I’m not cold. Just…excited.” Raven sounded shy.
William smiled, for her reaction pleased him. He dipped the pitcher into the bathtub and held it aloft. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes.
William smoothed her hair down her back. Slowly and deliberately, he poured the warm water, his fingers following.
He scratched at her scalp. “Are you sure the temperature is right? I have difficulty discerning it.”
“It’s perfect,” she hummed.
He chuckled and continued to wet her hair.
William used both hands to apply the shampoo and worked his fingers from her scalp to the ends of her hair as if it was his sole purpose in life.
“How does it feel?” He massaged her scalp using a firm, circular motion.
“Heavenly.”
“Women are mysterious,” he mused.
She laughed. “In what way?”
“They’re a study in contrasts: soft and strong, fierce and gentle. They can do everything, of course, and yet one feels compelled to do everything for them.”
“You sound as if you’ve just entered the Enlightenment, my friend. Welcome to the revolution.”
He tugged gently at her hair, and she laughed again.
He continued washing, and after the final rinse, he carefully squeezed moisture from the long tresses. He rested his chin on her shoulder, covering her breasts with his arms.
Raven sighed heavily.
“What was that for?” He kissed her shoulder.
She lowered her lips to his arm. “I have you, and my sister lost Dan.”
“You, of all people, know the world is unjust. Things are given, things are taken away. It’s beyond our control.”
“I should have found another way.” She bowed her head.
“Maximilian could have killed her. She is still alive.”
Raven didn’t answer.
“Let me turn you,” he whispered, his body tense behind her. “Then you will be safe, and we shall be together. Forever.”
“No.”
His grip on her loosened. “You didn’t even consider it. Not for a moment.”
“We spoke about this before. I don’t want to live forever.”
His mouth found her ear. “But you would be with me.”
“I love you, William. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I don’t want a thousand years of this world. It’s riddled with loss and pain and guilt.”
William released her.
She turned and placed her hand to his cheek. “You won’t live forever. You know that. Your thousand years will end, and I’ll be condemned to century after century without you.”
His hand covered hers, his eyes strangely aglitter. “We would have more time.”
“If it were just time with you, of course I’d want it. But that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about death and feeding and battles.” She shook her head, her wet hair spilling over her shoulders. “I don’t want that.”
He laced his fingers with hers, pulling her hand to his mouth. “You would feel differently after the change.”
“Are you so very different from William Malet, the Norman? Is your character completely changed?”
He opened his mouth to argue and shut it abruptly.
She placed her other hand atop their conjoined ones. “You, of all people, know the power of choice. You must respect mine.”
“Think of what my life will be when you are gone.” His eyes were pained.
“You have choices, too, William.”
“This is not the life I would have chosen for either of us.”
“Then don’t ask me to choose it.”
“No suicide,” he murmured. “Promise me, no matter what, that you won’t take your own life.”
“I don’t intend to kill myself. Why are you worrying about it?”
“You don’t believe in an afterlife, but I do. And suicides…” His body shuddered.
“I promise. But you’re worrying about something that doesn’t exist.”
He hummed in her ear but did not acquiesce. “I pray my teacher will continue to watch over you.” He breathed a resigned sigh against her skin before burying his face in her neck.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“COULDN’T YOU SECURE more comfortable accommodations?” Aoibhe threw back the hood of her cloak as she surveyed the simple room in which Ibarra was living.
The garret was in a partially renovated building that stood on the bank of the Arno, across from the Uffizi. Saw horses and tarps littered the ground floor, and most of the ceilings and walls were in various stages of repair. Dust and grime coated many of the surfaces, as well as the staircase.
Ibarra squatted under the roof. He’d tidied the room somewhat and moved in some furniture. The garret’s only entry was a leaded-glass skylight; the door had been boarded shut from the outside, making it a very suitable place for a vampyre to hide.
“We could meet at your home instead.” Ibarra gave her a wolfish grin.
“And have the Prince cut off my head? No, thank you.” She lifted her crimson skirts high above her ankles as she crossed the dirty floor. “You should have quit the city by now. It’s only a matter of time before the Prince finds you.”
“I’m not leaving until I have my revenge.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Now, what news?”
“A policeman stumbled onto Teatro. Gregor was quite worried, but the Prince has emerged from his precious villa and ordered him to have the police take care of it.”
“Interesting.”
“There’s more.” She kissed him and withdrew, taunting him.
“Tell me.”
Aoibhe twirled, the folds of her red velvet dress peeking from beneath her black cloak.
“This particular policeman has an interesting history. He’s been investigating a robbery at the Uffizi, and he’s taken an interest in the Prince’s pet.”
Ibarra scoffed. “The pet seems very popular. Does it bleed gold and silver?”
Aoibhe laughed, tossing her long, red curls. “No, but once again, there’s more. It seems this officer is looking for William York.”
Ibarra’s dark brows lifted. “The Prince? How is that possible?”
“It seems he’s been involved in the human world, and somehow the policeman has learned his name. Apparently, he’s a suspect.”
“The Prince would never be so careless.”
“Ah, but it’s well known he has a weakness for art. Perhaps he stole from the Gallery.”
“That wouldn’t be enough to give a policeman his name.”
“No.” Aoibhe rubbed at her chin. “That is rather puzzling.”
“And interesting.” Ibarra pulled her close once again, his dark eyes dancing. “Finally, something to our advantag
e.”
“In what way?”
“In the way in which human beings have always been useful, as a tool for our agenda.”
She pushed him away. “The coup failed. The Curia isn’t coming, and the Princess of Umbria withdrew her troops from our borders. If we are patient, the Prince’s time will elapse, and he’ll weaken. Then we can strike.”
“Aoibhe, I’m not waiting for the Prince to gain his thousand years.”
“I won’t be party to another coup,” she snapped. “I nearly lost my head in the last one.”
“There won’t be a coup.”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “Then how do you suggest we seize the throne?”
“We allow our enemies to dispose of the Prince, and then we take control.”
“What makes you think we’d survive a war with Venice? Or Umbria?”
“Ah, that is the beauty of my plan. We don’t provoke a war. We simply motivate our enemies to assassinate the Prince.”
She flounced across the room. “That was Lorenzo’s strategy. See how successful it was.”
Ibarra straightened his spine. “I am more cunning than Lorenzo.”
“The Prince was made by the Roman. He has his protection. No one will move against him now.”
“Now, perhaps not.” Ibarra smiled. “But with the appropriate tinder…” He gestured upward. “An explosion.”
Aoibhe gazed at him suspiciously. “What are you planning?”
Ibarra’s eyes gleamed. “A bonfire of vanities.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WILLIAM WAS ALWAYS SERIOUS, always focused. But after the unexpected conversation while he washed her hair, Raven observed a new cast to his movements as he carried her to bed.
His naked body was taut with determination and resolve. He spread himself atop her on the large bed, his forearms bracketing her shoulders.
She looked up into the gray eyes of a panther, assessing and unblinking. The muscles in his chest were hard and unyielding as they grazed against her breasts.
Raven found his silence unnerving. She bit at her lip, waiting for him to speak. But he remained silent.
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