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“Tell me what happened to your leg, then.” His voice softened.
“It’s the same story. And it’s ugly.” She tapped her fingers on top of the mattress. “If I tell you, I want your word you won’t harm the Emersons, ever.”
“I said I’ll spare their lives, that’s all I’ll promise.”
“William, I—”
“This is already a concession, Raven. I hate the man.”
William’s tone indicated his intractability.
“Fine.” She sighed.
Raven closed her eyes, paused, and began her tale.
Chapter Thirty-nine
William was conscious of the tension in Raven’s body, but she accepted his touch. He tried not to be distracted by the warmth and softness of her form, or the delight he had in wrapping himself around her.
He’d never held a woman this way before. He’d never asked a woman to tell him her secrets or share her hidden pain.
Raven was different.
He tried very hard to focus on her words and not be distracted by her scent, which had almost cleared of the vampyre blood he’d given her.
“I am not a victim.” Her voice was low but steely. “I’m not telling you this story to inspire pity. I don’t want that.”
“Agreed.” He spoke near her ear.
She mumbled a curse and he almost regretted demanding her history from her. Almost, but not quite.
“Everything began when my father died. I was eleven and we were living in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. My father was a construction worker. One day, he had an accident and fell off a roof.”
Raven shuddered. “It was sudden, obviously. My mother went to pieces. We didn’t have extended family so it was just my mother, me, and my sister, Carolyn. We called her Cara. She was four.
“My mother didn’t function well without my father. He’d kept the house repaired and paid the bills and looked after the car. She didn’t know how to do any of those things. Or if she did, she was too depressed to do them.
“We were going to lose our house. We didn’t have money for food. So my mother got a job as a hostess in a local restaurant. That’s where she met him.” Raven shivered and William moved closer, wrapping himself around her like a shield.
“He was a real estate developer from Florida. He took a shine to my mother and asked her out. He didn’t mind that she had kids. In fact, he told us he loved kids.” Raven spat out the words.
“They started dating. Soon she was pregnant and they decided to get married and move us to Orlando, Florida, to live with him.
“Things were fine at the beginning. Mom was happy and pregnant. Cara was happy to have a new daddy.”
“And you, Cassita”—William’s voice was low—“were you happy?”
“I was relieved. When Dad died, I was left having to do things—buy food, try to cook, and remind my mother to pay the bills.
“After the first month or two in Orlando, I started noticing things about our stepfather. He barely spoke to me and when I tried to talk to him, he brushed me off.
“But he talked to Cara. And he stared at her, a lot. I didn’t like the way he looked at her.
“One night I came out of my room to go to the bathroom and I saw him going into her room. I followed.
“He gave me some bullshit excuse of checking on her and tried to send me back to bed. I wouldn’t go. I said I was scared of the dark and was going to sleep in her room.
“He argued with me but I wouldn’t move. He was angry with me but eventually he left. That’s when I realized something was very, very wrong.
“I tried to tell my mother, but she wouldn’t listen. She was in a happy haze preparing for the baby and she didn’t want to hear what I had to say. She didn’t want to admit that something was wrong with her new husband.
“I started sleeping on Cara’s floor every night. That made him furious.”
“Did he try to hurt you?”
“Not directly. He’d ground me for no reason or try to convince my mother I was stealing from him. They tried to lock me in my room a couple of times but I figured out how to pick the lock with a bobby pin.”
“What’s a bobby pin?”
“A metal thing women use in their hair sometimes,” Raven answered before forcing herself to continue. “I couldn’t sleep at night because I was worried about my sister. I’d go to bed early, but set my alarm so I could wake up after my mom went to bed.
“I started having trouble in school because I was falling asleep. The teachers wanted to know what was going on at home but my stepfather just told them I was sneaking out at night with my friends.
“One night, I fell asleep and didn’t hear my alarm. Or maybe he’d turned it off, I don’t know. I ran to Cara’s room and the door was locked from the inside. He’d switched the doorknob around.
“I went to my room and found a bobby pin and picked the lock. I opened the door and saw him sitting on her bed. He’d pulled Cara’s nightgown up around her neck. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“I started screaming. I picked up things and threw them at him. He pulled Cara’s nightgown down and came at me, telling me to shut up or I’d wake my mother.”
“Where was your mother?” William interrupted.
“In bed. Her door was closed but I know she heard me. She knew exactly what was going on but she was too fucking weak to stand up to him.”
William felt Raven’s arms tense as she balled her hands into fists.
“What happened next?”
“He hit me. I didn’t even feel it, I was just trying to get to my sister. I started crawling on the ground toward her but he grabbed me.
“I was kicking and screaming and he was yelling at me to shut up.
“My mother chose that moment to open her door and come down the hall. I was struggling with my stepfather and shouting at my mother about what he’d done to Cara. I wouldn’t shut up, so he pushed me down the stairs.”
William’s body went rigid.
She moved her head in his direction.
“Are you okay?”
“No.” He tried to keep his voice calm, for her sake. “What happened next?”
“I don’t remember. Actually, I don’t remember him pushing me down the stairs. I just remember fighting with him and then I remember falling.
“When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The doctors said I broke my leg and ankle. A social worker came to see me, and after I told her what happened, my sister was put in temporary foster care.”
William squeezed her lightly. “What’s foster care?”
“Um, when children are in danger, sometimes the state steps in and takes them away from their family. Foster families look after the children until they can be placed somewhere safe.”
“So they believed you.”
“They believed the evidence—Cara was hysterical and she wouldn’t talk about what happened. I was in the hospital and my stepfather was at the police station lying his ass off. He said he’d been drinking and it was a misunderstanding—that I tripped and fell.
“My mother knew. She knew and she did nothing,” Raven whispered. “I told her something was happening with Cara. She said I was lying because I was jealous of my stepfather’s attention; that I was trying to break up her marriage. To this day, she sides with him.”
Raven inhaled deeply.
“Just once, I wanted someone to defend me. By the time we were placed in foster care, it was too late.”
William’s hand moved to her injured leg, ghosting over her scar.
“This happened because you were protecting your sister?”
Raven flinched. “I didn’t protect her. He got to her while I was asleep. And I don’t think that was the first time.”
She stopped abruptly and William smelled the tang of salt. She was crying.
He buried his face in her hair, not knowing what to do.
“I failed her,” she cried. “She was only five. She was just a baby. And it’s my fault.”
> He grimaced. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
William withdrew so he could look at her. “What twelve-year-old girl would have the courage to physically confront a man? Precious few.”
Raven swiped at her eyes.
“I don’t see how it is your fault that a pedophile went after your sister. You’re the hero in this tale, Cassita.”
“It’s why I changed my name. I couldn’t hear the word Jane without hearing his voice.”
“So you chose Raven?”
“I wanted to prove to myself that I could be someone else. That I could be brave.”
William brought his lips to her ear. “You are brave, Raven. You are very brave. A slip of a girl, fighting to protect her sister. That’s heroic.”
“Hardly.”
“Joan of Arc had that kind of courage.”
Raven shifted to look up at him. “Did you know her?”
“No. I came to Florence in the late thirteenth century. I’ve been here since then.”
“You never leave?”
