Текст книги "The Raven"

Автор книги: Sylvain Reynard

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-four

If time could be measured by grains of sand flowing through an hourglass, there would have been enough sand to form a small sand castle in the bottom of the glass. That was how long it took for Raven to process William’s declaration and react to it.

“You’re sick.”

(She had difficulty coming up with a more descriptive response, given the fantastic nature of his claim.)

“No, I am not.” William was visibly irritated. “I am perfectly well.”

“I think cannibalism counts as a mental illness. I don’t mean to make light of it, because clearly you need help. And a dietician.”

Raven was not trying to be funny, but found herself giggling out of nervousness.

William was not amused.

He walked past her and circled his desk, opening one of the side drawers.

Raven should have taken that opportunity to flee the library, but she was curious about what he was doing. Until she realized he was withdrawing a dagger.

It was old-fashioned and far from small, boasting a gold handle.

“What’s that for?” She started backing away from him.

“I’m going to challenge your view of the supernatural. I’d advise you to stay. You’ll want to see this.”

Raven continued moving toward the door, but she kept her eyes on him.

He went to one of the bookshelves and withdrew a large, heavy volume. Raven noticed that it was a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy.

William placed it on the center of his desk. He glanced in her direction as the music swelled.

Raven’s hand found the doorknob and she twisted, eager to leave.

Unfortunately, the doorknob wouldn’t move.

She tried it again. The door was locked.

“Jane,” he called to her.

She was about to pound on the door and scream for Lucia, when she saw William put his left hand on top of the book.

Staring at her, he lifted the dagger and plunged it into the back of his hand.

Raven screamed.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What are you doing?”

Without thought for her safety, she raced forward, ignoring the pain in her leg.

She saw a blackish fluid pouring from the wound in his hand. She wondered if it could be blood.

“You’re okay, William. You’re going to be okay. It’s just a cut,” she lied as she pulled her white cardigan from her shoulders. “We’ll take you to the hospital.” She tried to press the sweater around the dagger, which was still sticking out of his hand, pinning him to the heavy book.

William’s face was impassive.

He hadn’t cried out. He hadn’t even flinched.

Calmly, he pushed her cardigan aside and, with a great wrench, pulled the dagger out.

The sound was sickening.

“Why did you do that? You’re going to bleed to death!” Raven pushed the sweater toward his hand.

Once again he waved her aside. With a handkerchief, he swiped the blackish substance from the center of his hand and held it in front of her face, palm toward her.

The hole in his hand was so large, Raven could see through it.

He must have shattered bone with the dagger, or perhaps he’d missed the bones entirely. She couldn’t be certain.

She dropped her cardigan to the floor. “Holy shit.”

William came around the side of the desk to stand in front of her.

“Watch carefully.” His tone was ominous.

A moment later, the wound in his hand began to close. Raven watched as a milky film formed over the hole. Sinew and skin seemed to grow over the film before her eyes.

He moved his hand, displaying the back as well as the front. The wound had disappeared.

Thinking it was an illusion, Raven grabbed his hand, peering at it closely.

She traced the palm with her finger. It felt like flesh and not a prosthetic. She couldn’t even see a scar.

On his desk was the book with a large, deep incision still visible.

She lifted her face. “How did you do that?”

“I could repeat the experiment, if you like. I could do it a thousand times, but the outcome will always be the same. I’m not human; I am a vampyre.”

Raven dropped his hand and tried to race for the exit.

He cut her off.

He lifted his hands, palms toward her.

“Jane.”

She retreated to the metal staircase and scrambled to the top, shouting as she climbed. “Help! Help!”

“No one will come to your aid. Lucia, Ambrogio, and the others do exactly as I tell them, without exception.” William stood at the bottom of the staircase. He did not look pleased. “Climb down from there before you fall.”

“Don’t come near me!” She reached over and pulled a very heavy atlas from one of the shelves.

“Sard,” he swore, throwing the bloodstained handkerchief on the floor next to her cardigan. “I’m sure the revelation comes as a shock, given your preconceived notions. But you should remember that I’ve done nothing but help you.”

“Let me go.”

He straightened his shoulders. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can. I’ve done nothing to you. Just let me go.”

William regarded her, his face taking on a contemplative expression.

“You thought I was a cannibal and yet you came to my aid. You sacrificed your white sweater for my wound.”

“You were bleeding, for God’s sake! Of course I tried to help.”

“Not of course. Few have ever lifted a finger to help me in the past few centuries. When they did, it was always with an agenda. You’ve not only surprised me, you’ve impressed me. And I am not easily impressed.”

He stepped to a table nearby and poured a deep purplish liquid into a goblet.

“You need a drink.” He lifted the glass.

“No, I don’t.” She shifted the atlas to her other hand. “I need to get out of here and away from you.”

“Finally you’re making sense.”

William approached the staircase. He was unhurried in his movements, almost relaxed. He placed a hand on the railing.

“If you’d come down from your perch, little bird, I’ll tell you more.”

“You’re a bunch of sick people.”

“Strictly speaking, we aren’t people. We’re vampyres.”

“Whatever.”

William smiled, revealing an array of straight white teeth.

“You’ve already met several vampyres, including me.”

Raven felt unsteady. “Who?”

“The feral. And Maximilian and Aoibhe.”

“Who’s Aoibhe?”

“The female who chased you to the Duomo.”

“So there are three of you?”

William pressed his lips together. “‘Our name is Legion, for we are many.’”

“How many?” Raven’s eyes widened.

“We exist worldwide, usually congregating in cities. Some of our kind live as ferals, alone and in rural locations.”

Raven gripped the railing. “I saw the feral kill the policeman. Is that what you do?”

“No. Ferals abandon reason and live like animals. The civilized ones among us feed on humans, but try not to kill them. Humans are a renewable resource.”

“Like trees,” she said weakly.

“What’s that?”

She closed her eyes. “The feral said I was a pedophile’s whore. He told me he’d fuck me until I died. Are you a pedophile?”

She opened her eyes and saw William’s expression change. A wave of fury passed over his features.

With a roar, he lifted the wine bottle and threw it against the heavy wooden doors. The bottle broke on impact, the top quarter of it embedding in the wood.

Raven clutched the atlas to her chest, clinging to the staircase rail with all her strength.

William rubbed his face with his hands. After a moment’s silence, he turned to her.

“I didn’t know that it spoke to you. I hope you never encounter one again, but if you do, you mustn’t listen to what it says. They’re devoid of reason and entirely dark.”

“Dark?”

He shifted his feet. “Something dark animates us. In a feral, the darkness overtakes it completely and the result is what you saw with the policeman.

“They aren’t without perception, however. It realized you had a relic and it must have divined where it came from, which is why it insulted the former owner and you.”

“You gave me a relic from a pedophile?”

“He was not a pedophile,” William snarled, baring his teeth. “He was a saint. Only a feral would suggest otherwise.”

Raven shrank from his anger. But after a minute her curiosity got the better of her.

“Which saint?”

William gestured to the chair she’d sat in previously. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”

When Raven made no movement, he told her, “I shall keep my distance and stand by the door.”

“Not until you tell me what you gave me.”

William did as he’d offered, stepping carefully between the shards of broken glass and pools of Chianti to the door. “In order to save your life, I fed you vampyre blood.”

“You what?” she shrieked.

He lifted his hands as if to calm her. “It has certain properties that can keep a human being alive.”

“This is impossible.” She swayed on the staircase, switching the atlas back to her other hand. “This must be a nightmare.”

Before she was aware of what was happening, William was at her side. He’d flown across the room and ascended the staircase.

He lifted the atlas from her shaking hand and reshelved it.

“Cassita.” He spoke firmly, looping an arm around her waist. “Stay with me.”

Her eyes focused on his. “I didn’t see you move. How did you do that?”

“Speed and agility are two of our talents. Now come down.”

She tried to push him away.

He was immovable.

“Look at me.” When their eyes met, he spoke in a low voice. “I won’t harm you. I—I swear by the relic.”

His voice and expression seemed sincere. Certainly he was superstitious about the relic, whatever its power or lack thereof. Would he swear by it and lie intentionally?

She wasn’t sure.

Raven considered her options and realized she couldn’t remain on the staircase forever. The only exit from the room was the door. At least if she descended the staircase, she’d be closer to the exit.

William took her hand and patiently led her to the chair.

“Drink this. It will settle your nerves.” He handed her the glass that held the remaining Chianti.

She eyed the contents.

“It isn’t blood, is it?”

He seemed offended. “Of course not. It’s wine.”

She sniffed the liquid before draining it. The wine was good but she barely tasted it. She closed her eyes as she willed the alcohol to give her strength.

“I thought vampyres were supposed to be cold.” She handed him the glass and he placed it on the desk. “Your skin is cooler than mine, but I wouldn’t call it cold.”

“Some of our mythology was propagated by our enemies. Some we circulated, hoping to confuse them.”

“I can’t imagine Bram Stoker as someone’s enemy.”

“Probably because he was a paid propagandist.”

Raven peered at his mouth.

“You don’t have fangs.”

William frowned. “Our teeth are sharp enough, I assure you.”

“So you have enemies?”

“Every predator is prey to something.”

“What would prey on you?”

“Not what—whom. And that is a story for a different day.” He appeared impatient.

“You look human.”

“I was human once. My body has been perfected. I’m faster, stronger, and I don’t age. I still feed and breathe but can go a long time without air. As you saw, I heal quickly.”

She lifted her hands before dropping them to her lap. “How can this be?”

“Your mistake is in assuming that the supernatural springs into existence uncaused. It doesn’t. It obeys certain rules; it follows certain patterns. In summary, a vampyre’s supernatural properties come from the darkness.”

She rubbed at her eyes. “Metaphorical explanations are useless. If you aren’t human, why do you look human? Why don’t you have a different kind of body?”

“Why do the elements of the Eucharist retain their physical properties after transubstantiation in the Mass?” Once again William sounded impatient.

Raven made a face.

“They didn’t quite cover the transubstantiation from human to vampyre in my catechism class, but perhaps my parish was conservative.”

William’s features softened into a smile.

He chuckled.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed.” He gave her an admiring look.

Raven tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Then something perilous, something terrible, occurred to her.

She regarded him with a worried expression. “If you gave me vampyre blood, does that mean I’ll become a vampyre, too?”

“Not from that, no. The blood I gave you was harvested from two vampyres who are no longer alive. You have to be changed by a living vampyre in order to become one.”

“I thought vampyres were supposed to be immortal.”

“Not quite.”

“How can they be killed?”

William’s smile disappeared. “We don’t discuss those things.”

“The man who approached me last night—he mentioned the term masters. What was he talking about?”

William muttered something under his breath.

“You still have vampyre blood in your system. Max must have assumed you’d been kept by two vampyres as a pet and they’d let you feed from them as a reward.”

“That doesn’t sound rewarding.” Her lip curled in disgust.

“It is when you’re dying.” He spoke sharply. “Vampyre blood reverses the aging process and modifies nature, which is why it changed your appearance and healed your head injury.

“Your leg injury is obviously old, which is why it’s coming back. The older the injury, the greater the amount of blood it takes to heal it, but the less permanent the change. How did you break your leg?”

“That’s a story for a different day.” Raven directed her own sharp tone toward him before focusing on her hands, which were clenched in her lap. “So my leg will be like it was before?”

“Yes. In order to heal your leg permanently, you’d have to become a vampyre. But you could heal it temporarily by continuing to ingest vampyre blood.”

His expression changed. He seemed thoughtful, searching.

Raven felt more than a tinge of regret. She’d enjoyed the changes to her appearance. She enjoyed being pretty and thin. Most important, she enjoyed having a functional leg that worked properly and without pain.

She enjoyed it so much she was almost ready to ask William to give her whatever it would take to heal her.

The realization made her cold.

“What happened to the man who attacked Bruno?”

“Maximilian is not a man. And nothing happened to him. No doubt he’s resting privately. Vampyres can’t survive in the sun.”

“But you can. You stood in the sun when you came to my room.”

William leaned forward at the waist and dropped his voice.

“That is an exception you’d best forget.”

She turned her head to the side, avoiding his eyes.

“And Bruno? How is he?” she persisted.

“There’s no change in his condition. The doctors don’t know if he’ll recover.”

“I want to see him.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave. It’s for your protection.”

Raven stood, panicking.

“But I have to go home. I have to see Bruno.”

William glared at her.

“I asked you repeatedly to leave the city. You refused. I warned you that you would come to me for help. And here you are.”

“You brought me here!”

“To save your life.” He crossed to her in two long strides. “Again and again, I offered help and you spurned it. You could have left the city, but you didn’t.”

“It would have been irrational for me to leave on the advice of a stranger who broke into my apartment.”

“My warnings were given in good faith. You ignored them. Now you’ve come to the attention of two of my associates. Ergo, you have entered my world whether you realize it or not.”

“What does that mean?”

He straightened proudly. “It means, Jane, that I shall offer you my protection. In return, you’ll give me what I want.”

“What’s that?”

William gave her a sensual look.

“You.”

Chapter Twenty-five

“Excuse me?” Raven wasn’t sure she’d heard what she thought she’d heard.

William’s expression left no ambiguity, as his eyes traveled the length of her body.

“I warned you that I would exact a price. The price is you. You’ll be safe living here. If you wish, I can continue administering blood so your leg will remain sound.

“I have the largest private collection of Renaissance art in the world. Much of it has never been restored. I’ll give you free rein to assess my collection and restore it. I’ll even build a lab for you, out there.” He pointed to the gardens that lay beyond the library windows.

“I’d live here as your personal art restorer?”

His lips twitched. “I’d have other, personal expectations of you.”

“Sex?” Her voice sounded higher than normal.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

He seemed surprised by her question.

He reached out to cup her face and his eyes grew soft. “Because you interest me. It has been many, many years since someone caught my attention.”

Raven couldn’t pretend she didn’t like his gentle voice or the way he touched her, as if he truly found her pleasing.

She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was lying or not. It was possible this was some tortured game and that she was merely a pawn in a greater contest.

His kiss the previous evening had felt sincere. But Raven had been deceived before, and so she didn’t trust her feelings.

She wished she were more used to a man’s attention. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be so affected. So vulnerable.

“Is sex the same for vampyres?” She pulled away from him.

His hand dropped to his side and he frowned. “The same as what?”

“The same as when you were human.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” he said coolly.

His demeanor didn’t invite interrogation and so she elected not to pursue the ambiguity in his statement.

But she made a mental note to ask about it later.

He ran his thumb across his lower lip. “When a vampyre feeds from a human, the urge to engage in intercourse is overwhelming. Sex and feeding go together, almost universally.”

Raven wrinkled her nose in revulsion.

“Do vampyres ever have sex with one another?”

“In some cases.”

“Do they feed from one another, too?”

“Sometimes, but vampyres need human blood in order to maintain their health.”

Raven decided to keep William’s attention fixed on answering questions, in order to give herself time to plan an escape. She tried to look curious.

“Why would a vampyre feed from another vampyre?”

“It bonds the two. There may be political or expedient reasons to forge that bond. The blood of an older vampyre can strengthen a younger one.”

“Are you bonded with anyone?”

“No.” He moved away from her abruptly. “I need to disclose that when a vampyre takes a human lover, the human becomes overwhelmed by the experience and develops an addiction to it. In some cases, the human begs to become a vampyre. In other cases, the vampyre gets carried away and kills the human.”

He paused, noting her reaction.

Her jaw had dropped open and she was gazing at him in horror.

He hastened to explain himself.

“You should know that I am what they call an old one—I’ve been a vampyre for centuries. I have more power than the others and I have much more control. I won’t be carried away when I drink from you. You’re safe with me.”

Raven laughed without amusement. “Safe? Nothing you have said so far makes me feel safe. And thanks for the invitation, but I’m not interested in having sex with you.”

William smiled a slow, sensuous smile. “You say one thing but your body says something else. Your heart rate escalates when I touch you and you hold your breath. Your pupils dilate and your skin warms. One might almost think you are aroused.”

Raven felt her cheeks flush.

“I can’t help biology.”

“Neither can I,” he retorted, coming nearer.

“Are all vampyres misogynists? I had no idea.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I am not a misogynist. In fact, I’m a great admirer of women. I’m simply stating what your body already recognizes—you are attracted to me.”

“Find another art restorer to snack on.”

He moved closer, his eyes fixed on hers. “You don’t know the pleasure I’m capable of giving you. There are those who would beg to become my lover, just for one night.”

Raven’s gaze dropped to his mouth.

He licked his lips.

She shook her head, as if trying to snap out of it.

“Then you should have no trouble finding a willing partner. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

He stepped in front of her. “In a few days, the two bloods I administered to you will disappear from your system and I’ll be able to enjoy your true vintage. I’ve been looking forward to sampling it for a while.”

“You’d drink my blood?”

He gave her a half smile.

“Vampyres tend to do that.”

“I’d rather die.”

“What?” His tone was harsh, if not incredulous.

“You stole the illustrations from the Uffizi and now you’ve kidnapped me. I don’t care what you are. I have no intention of staying with you as a sex slave or a fountain drink or anything else.”

He scowled. “You wouldn’t be a slave. You’d be royalty.”

“You said I’d be under your control.”

“I said that’s usual. You should know by now that you are far from usual. In fact, I think you’re strong-minded enough to maintain a degree of autonomy despite an intense sexual relationship with me.”

“A degree of autonomy isn’t freedom.”

“Being my lover is.” He reached out and traced her collarbones from shoulder to shoulder. “Freedom to enjoy the pleasure I’ll give you. Freedom to leave your cares behind and focus only on living a life of erotic delight.”

“That isn’t an inducement.” She set her teeth. “I’d rather kill myself than be touched against my will.”

William glared. “I am not a rapist.”

“So you say.”

“I saved you from being raped and I killed three men in order to do it,” he hissed.

“Maybe because you wanted to finish the job.”

“Cave,” he warned.

He was perilously close to losing his temper, but, through a visible effort, he restrained himself.

He clenched his jaw.

“You’d end your life, simply to avoid this?”

Raven lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“Do you know what happens to suicides after they die?”

She shrugged. “They go to sleep and never wake up.”

“No, they don’t. Suicide is the worst thing a human being can do. You shouldn’t even consider it.” William looked deeply into her eyes. “You say you don’t want this, but I saw you blush. You want me to touch you. You want to be in my bed.”

“No.” She spoke defiantly.

“Convince me.”

His gray eyes dropped to her lips.

He brought his body to within a hairsbreadth of hers, but didn’t touch her. His mouth hovered close.

Raven waited, expecting him to kiss her.

He didn’t.

She inhaled deeply.

Still, he didn’t move.

“Cassita,” he murmured. The movement of his mouth brought their lips in contact, but only for a second.

Then his lips were on hers and he was kissing her.

His hand sifted through her long hair, cupping the back of her head. He brought their bodies together, erasing the space between them.

Then he slowed the tempo of his lips to an agonizing crawl. He pressed against her, brushing his lips across hers as if the distance were interminable and he had all the time in the world.

She didn’t push him away, but she didn’t kiss him back. She was as still as a statue, motionless in his arms.

Then his lips were gone.

She opened her eyes and saw him staring at the door.

“We’re about to be interrupted.”

“Interrupted?”

No sooner had the word left her mouth than there came a knock at the door.

“Enter,” William called.

There was a click and a scrape of the lock. The door opened.

Ambrogio appeared. “Forgive me, my lord. An urgent message has arrived.”

“Place it on the table.”

If Ambrogio was surprised by the shards of glass and wine droplets he had to step over in order to walk to the side table, he hid it well. He put a white envelope next to Raven’s empty wineglass.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” He ignored Raven and looked only at William.

“No. That is all.”

Ambrogio bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

William released Raven, walking over to the table. He ripped open the envelope and scanned the written contents.

“Sard,” he cursed, stuffing the letter back into the envelope.

“What does that mean?”

“It means fuck.”

“In what language?”

“English.” He tossed the envelope on the table. “I had hoped to spend the day with you. Unfortunately for us both, business intrudes. We’ll continue this conversation later. In the interim, the villa is at your disposal. Lucia will prepare your meals and see that you have what you need. I’ll seek you out when I return, which may not be until tomorrow.”

He nodded at her and made for the door.

She followed him. “Wait. What’s going to happen to Bruno?”

William frowned. “Why must you keep mentioning him?”

“Because his grandmother is my neighbor. And he may die because of me.”

William’s demeanor cooled. “You won’t have to worry about her much longer. She has cancer and will die soon.”

“What?” Raven croaked.

“When I visited your apartment, I could smell the cancer from the hall. It’s very advanced.”

“How can you smell cancer?”

He pressed his lips together. “It’s one of our talents. We can smell disease. And death.”

Raven placed a hand on the back of the chair for support. “Why didn’t Bruno tell me?”

“It’s possible he doesn’t know. I didn’t scent any drugs in her system. Perhaps she declined treatment.”

“Can you help her?”

“I could, but I won’t.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

“Why not?”

“Using vampyre blood to help you has already exposed me. I’m not about to do it again.”

“But if I asked you to help her?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“I’d still say no. The blood will heal her cancer but I’d have to give it to her in such a large amount, she’d end up much, much younger. It would attract too much attention.”

“Could you give her a little, just to ease her suffering?”

“Death is the only thing that will help her.”

Raven let out an anguished sound. “Please.”

“We don’t interfere in the lives of human beings. You were an exception.” His eyes glinted cold steel.

He turned his back on her and reached for the doorknob.

She swallowed hard as tears pricked her eyes. “William, wait.”

She cleared her throat.

“What if I begged?”

William kept his back toward her.

“My answer won’t change.”

“I tried to protect Cara,” Raven whispered. “I failed.”

Now William turned around. “Who’s Cara?”

“I am not going to watch this happen and do nothing.”

William exhaled loudly.

“It isn’t your responsibility to save the world. Let people save themselves.”

Raven let out an anguished sound. “If what you said about the relic is true, it’s my fault Bruno was hurt. If I’d been wearing it, no one would have bothered us.”

“It’s too late for regrets.” He reached for the doorknob once again.

“No, it isn’t.”

She approached him, standing a few feet away.

“You said I’d come to you and beg for help.” She lifted her chin. “I thought I was too proud to beg. But I’m not. I beg you for Bruno’s life and the life of his grandmother.”

William remained stubbornly fixed on the door.

“No.”

“Please, William. Please.”

He exhaled loudly. “As difficult as it may seem to you, we try not to draw attention to ourselves. You’re asking me to expose myself.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

William’s eyes flew to hers. “What?”

“If you heal Bruno and help his grandmother, I’ll stay with you. I’ll work on your art collection. I may even do… other things, eventually. I just ask that you don’t force me.”

William simply stared.

“Please,” she repeated. “Help them.”

William stood still so long, Raven worried he’d gone into a trance.

She wrung her hands, anxiety making her fidget.

His gaze moved to her hands and then to her face. “You’d live with me until I let you go? That could be decades from now.”

She nodded.

“I can’t help your neighbor. The risk is too great. But I could help the boy.”

“It has to be both.”

William gave her a hard look. “I’m not wasting my precious vintage collection on an old woman. I will, however, give something to him to save his life. But I won’t risk healing him completely.”

Raven contemplated her options, which were limited.

William’s expression began to shift. She worried he’d change his mind.

“All right.” Her shoulders slumped.

He walked toward her, his shoes crunching over the broken glass.

“You’d give up your life, your position at the gallery, in exchange for helping that ridiculous boy? He barely knows you.”

A single tear trailed down her cheek.

“I don’t want to see him die, knowing I could have done something to stop it.”

William huffed in exasperation. “He isn’t worthy of you. You said yourself he never noticed you until your appearance changed.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “You were never going to let me go. At least now, something good will come of it.”

He took her face in his hands.

“Do you understand what you are offering me?”

She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

For what seemed like a long time, he didn’t move.

“You shame me,” he murmured.

Her eyelids opened.

He brushed his lips across hers. “It’s been a long time since I felt shame.”

Uncertainty flashed across his features and Raven began to worry he’d retract his offer.

Impulsively, she reached up to kiss him.

He was surprised by her action, but welcomed it, his closed mouth moving over hers, unwilling to break their connection.

When he took over the kiss, she felt off balance, her hands gripping his biceps for support.

He propelled her backward, almost waltzing her across the room, until her back was against a bookshelf. And still he kept his lips on hers.

His hand slipped between her head and the shelf, cradling her. Protecting her.

She felt the movement for what it was and opened her mouth.

Instantly, his tongue began to play with her lips. He tasted and licked at an unhurried pace, but did not venture inside.

He trailed her jaw with his thumb, as he kissed and teased, tempting her to reciprocate.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth and he gently stroked it with his own, a deep sigh emanating from his chest.

He tasted different. His mouth was cool against her tongue, his movements leisurely but purposeful.

When she retreated, he kissed her lightly once again and pressed his forehead to hers.

He waited for her to open her eyes before he spoke. “Do you know how rare self-sacrifice is? How magnificent you are?”

Raven bowed her head. She was selling herself into slavery, not saving the world.

He toyed with her hair. “Spend the day enjoying my art collection. I’ll try to rejoin you tonight.”

She kept her eyes on the floor.

He kissed her once more before exiting the room.

Raven heard the door open and close.

She collapsed on the lowest rung of the staircase and placed her face in her hands. Her black hair fell forward, partially covering her arms and flowing over the shoulders of her raspberry-colored sundress.

She did not cry. But her heart ached.

She pushed aside thoughts of herself and her fate to think about her neighbor, Lidia.

She loved her. And she was very, very sick.

Raven exhaled in anguish.