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Chapter Twenty-eight
At ten o’clock that evening, Raven and William were seated in a black Mercedes, driven by a large man called Luka. The windows were tinted, keeping them safe from prying eyes.
When William had returned to the villa, two hours previous, he’d instructed Raven to dress in black and to cover as much skin as possible. When asked for his rationale, he’d patiently explained he was taking her to meet some of the others of his kind.
(His explanation was not extremely informative since she already knew that.)
Raven was terrified but bolstered her resolve by reminding herself that after the meeting he would take her home.
While she was grateful for her freedom, she was saddened to be leaving his art collection. She hoped she’d be able to return in order to examine and perhaps restore some of the works. More than a little of her curiosity had been piqued by their owner, as well. In a more relaxed setting, she wondered if he’d tell her about living through the Renaissance.
The possibility intrigued her.
As they drove down the winding road toward the city, she adjusted the hem of her black silk dress to cover her knees. Her legs were encased in black stockings, her feet placed in extravagantly expensive black designer heels.
William had been insistent she cover her neck, so Lucia had supplied a black vintage Hermès square in a conservative pattern and Raven had knotted it carefully.
(Raven was beginning to get the impression that his lordship had a thing for the color black.)
She was completely covered, with the exception of her face and hands. She fidgeted with her fingernails, unable to keep still.
William reached over to take her hand, clasping it in his.
“Sorry.” She gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m anxious.”
“That is an appropriate reaction. Do you like the dress?”
“Very much, thank you.”
He smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Raven squeezed his hand in thanks, but she didn’t believe him. The fabric of the dress was handsome, but silk clung. Even though Lucia had provided her with underthings that smoothed out her body, she knew her stomach, hips, and backside were far too prominent and that the fabric of the dress only emphasized their size.
William’s appetite for blood must be impairing his vision.
“Lucia said you picked the dress.”
“She bought it on my instructions, yes.” His focus moved from her face down her body to her legs. He gave them an admiring look. “I like to surround myself with beauty.”
Raven resisted the urge to scoff.
“I’m surprised vampyres travel in cars. Or on motorcycles.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“This car provides a measure of security. As for the motorcycle, I like speed.” He flashed her a winning smile. “So, beautiful Jane, why did you say your name is Raven? Ravens are scavengers. They feed on carrion.”
She turned to look out the window. “It doesn’t matter. That’s my name.”
He tugged at her hand. “Tell me why you want to be called Raven.”
“Because they’re intelligent. They’re independent.” She paused. “They’re survivors.”
William stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. “And what have you had to survive, little Raven?”
The tone of his voice, low and inquisitive, caused her to meet his gaze once again. He wasn’t hiding his concern, as if her answer mattered.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Especially tonight.” She disentangled herself from his grasp.
Involuntarily she glanced down at her right leg.
William’s eyes followed the path of hers. He frowned.
“Something made you strong. It’s common for vampyre blood to have that kind of effect in humans, but I think your resilience is your own.” He paused, then asked, “Who is Cara?”
“My sister,” she whispered.
“I had a sister.”
Raven turned to him with interest. “Older or younger?”
“Younger. I was the oldest. There were six of us, four boys and two girls.”
“I always wanted a brother.”
“It was just you and Cara?”
Raven nodded.
William regarded her, his face unreadable.
Under his gaze, she grew progressively more anxious. She swept her hair behind her ears.
“Stop staring at me.”
“Why? I like to look at pretty things.”
“So you say,” she huffed.
“And I haven’t seen anyone as captivating as you for a long time. But you’re a lark, not a raven.”
“I have a large number of euros that belong to you.” She changed the subject pointedly.
“Keep them, in case of emergency.”
She wanted to argue with him, but concluded the exercise would be fruitless. “Does it bother you to be near me?”
He looked puzzled. “Bother me, how?”
“Does it make you—hungry?”
She almost winced when she said the last word. She didn’t like to think about his feeding habits.
“I’ve already eaten. Your true vintage is masked currently by the blood I gave you a week ago. In a few days, however . . .” His voice trailed off suggestively.
She looked at him in revulsion.
“It doesn’t hurt, when done with care.” William brought his face close to hers. “I’d take you to my bed and we’d engage in all the sensual delights lovers enjoy. I’d touch you, taste you, bring you pleasure. Vampyres can engage in intercourse for hours. I can promise you the best delectation of your life. Only when you were in the throes of climaxing would I feed from you. It would be very pleasurable, very erotic.”
Raven began to feel a little warm at the sound of his words and the movement of his perfect, sensual lips.
She closed her eyes to dispel the magnetic pull of his mouth and the way his voice pronounced the words climaxing and erotic.
>
The car approached the bottom of the hill and turned.
She looked outside.
“Where are we going?”
William’s expression grew grim. “We’re going to the hospital. Your boy has taken a turn for the worse. I need to see him immediately.”
“Can you help him?”
“Yes, but I’ll only give him enough to keep him alive. That will buy me enough time so I can schedule a more convenient visit. Being in the hospital exposes me.”
“Thank you.” She made eye contact so that he would see her sincerity.
“You’re welcome. While I’m in the hospital, you’ll wait with Luka. Under no circumstances are you to get out of the car. Do you understand?”
“What happens if Luka decides to take a nap with some fish?” She tried to suppress a grin.
And failed.
William’s eyebrows drew together. “What are you talking about?”
Raven took a moment to assess him. He was not amused.
“Haven’t you seen The Godfather?”
William’s face was devoid of recognition.
“You know, the movie?”
He cleared this throat. “I find film—banal.”
Raven laughed. “Of course you do. One of these days, you need to see The Godfather. It’s the best film ever made, next to Casablanca.”
“Would you watch these films with me?”
She blinked in surprise. “Would you want me to?”
He stroked her wrist with his fingers, back and forth across the skin. “I can think of few things more pleasant than an evening in your company, even if it includes a film.”
Her attention was drawn to his fingers and what he was doing to her. It felt incredible.
“Okay, but I have a condition.”
He paused his movement. “What?”
“That you let me examine your art collection.”
He frowned. “That’s it?”
“I’d like to see what you have and assess the condition of each work. Then I can let you know what should be done to restore them.”
“In exchange for this work, which will be extensive, given the size of my collection, you’ll watch films with me?”
She mirrored his frown. “I’d need your word that you won’t try to detain me. I want my freedom.”
