Текст книги "The Raven"

Автор книги: Sylvain Reynard

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-three

Just before sunrise, William sat behind his desk rereading the letter Lorenzo had delivered to him earlier that evening.

To His Lordship, the Prince of Florence,

Greetings.

It was with joy we received your missive. As ever, the Principality of Umbria welcomes the friendship of the powerful Principality of Florence. We pledge our continued fidelity to our great and important ally.

The human beings you inquired about are indeed resident in our territory. There are four of them: one adult male, two adult females, and one female infant. As of the date of this letter, they inhabit a house near Todi.

It would be an honor to deliver these humans to you as a gift. Or, should you prefer, we will dispose of them in the manner you request and provide you with the remains.

If these possibilities are not to your liking, you have our permission to enter Umbria in order to hunt them. Please do us the kindness of notifying us in advance of your visit, as we would like to welcome you in a manner that befits a person of your rank.

I would like nothing more than to entertain you, should you be able to spare a few days. I remember your previous visit with much pleasure.

I remain,

Your loyal ally,

Simonetta,

Princess of Umbria

William tossed the inked parchment on his desk.

His situation had grown a good deal more complicated since he’d written to Simonetta, requesting permission to hunt Gabriel Emerson in her territory.

He hadn’t forgotten him. But he knew the laws concerning illegal incursions and was not about to risk a war with one of his most important allies over a common thief.

Now that he had Simonetta’s permission, he could go quickly, kill Emerson, and return to his own principality in a single evening. But he would not leave his city while it was infested with hunters.

Nor would he leave Raven now that he’d known the pleasure of her mouth.

Her mouth.

His plan to take her as a lover had gone awry. While it was true he hadn’t loved anyone in centuries, he felt something for her, and the feeling was beginning to deepen. He’d hoped they’d be able to explore their mutual attraction and that something between them would blossom and grow.

He’d been sorely mistaken.

Her horror at his proposal and her subsequent offering of herself in exchange for a favor had more than surprised him. He knew himself to be far from noble, but he prided himself in doing the noble thing, just this once.

He’d released her.

But he had no intention of abandoning his plan to seduce her. In fact, his desire for her had increased exponentially.

When he finally had her in his bed…

William restrained himself from fantasizing. He needed to clear his mind through meditation and rest while the sun shone. Or at least until it was almost sunset; then he could climb the Duomo and enjoy the view of his city.

It was true that he could walk in direct sunlight, but he found it uncomfortable. Like all vampyres, he needed to rest during the day and clear his mind.

There was a suspicion among his kind that madness descended on those who did not adequately and regularly clear their minds—something about the weight of immortality causing rationality to fail. If there was one thing William needed as prince, it was rationality.

Hunters plagued his city. They’d evaded the search party and murdered two younglings over by Santa Maria Novella Station, draining their blood and dumping their decapitated bodies on the train tracks.

As was their custom, the hunters had taken the heads. If a vampyre head was left in proximity to its body, the two pieces tended to go back together, reanimating the vampyre. Hunters knew that they could fetch a higher price for vampyre blood if it was sold with the head, proving authenticity.

William shuddered to think what the hunters would do to Raven, should they become aware of her. Which was why on a hunting party a few hours before, with Aoibhe and the others, he’d made sure to mention that Raven was safely ensconced in his villa, awaiting him in his bed.

He hoped he’d been believed.

Chapter Thirty-four

Raven stood in her bedroom early Monday morning, staring at her new cane.

It had made an innocuous appearance when she’d arrived home after Ambrogio’s visit. On this morning, she stared at it with utter hatred.

Most of the changes in her appearance had been reversed. Her disability had returned almost completely. Her weight had increased so she was, perhaps, a size smaller than she’d been. No one who saw her now would think she’d undergone a miraculous change.

She was angry with herself for enjoying her brief experience of beauty and for mourning its departure. She’d never thought of herself as shallow; she thought of herself as stoic. Clearly she didn’t know herself as well as she thought.

She was also angry with herself for hating her disability. No sooner had she limped out of bed that morning than she’d begun thinking of asking William to give her vampyre blood to heal her leg.

Her willingness to entertain the idea upset her greatly.

Her disability divided her from those who did not have visible disabilities. She knew this.

But in her view, all human beings were disabled in some sense—physically, socially, mentally, morally, etc. She thought that accepting the truth about oneself, and perhaps even coming to embrace it, was the correct way to deal with a disability, not denying it, hiding it, or, God forbid, trying to eradicate it from society.

So it was with scorn that she regarded herself in the bathroom mirror—her sad eyes and downcast expression. She was manifesting the same bigoted sadness she’d seen in others when they pitied her. She despised pity and its attendant low expectations.

Raven paused to note the fact that William had not pressed her to take blood.

He’d mentioned it, but seemed to leave it as her choice. He didn’t seem bothered by her disability. It was almost as if it escaped his attention most of the time. Maybe that was why she was strangely drawn to him, even more so after he’d released her and promised to help Bruno and Lidia.

She limped to the cane and gripped it as if it were a sword, swearing she would accept herself as she was and that she would no longer entertain any thought of healing. The cane itself, new and black, was far more functional than her old ones, especially the one that was still (artfully) sticking out of the wall.

She decided she liked it there and would not remove it.

While she wasn’t sure how she felt about William buying her a new wardrobe, she was grateful for the nice clothes. Lucia must have sorted the items and sent only the larger sizes, because most of them fit, including two pairs of designer jeans.

On this day, she wore a navy dress with matching cardigan and simple flat navy shoes. Obediently, she was wearing a scarf and the bracelet William had given her. She wondered if it had some historical connection to the city of Florence or if it was something he’d acquired during his long and mysterious life.

He’d become prince in the fourteenth century, but had mentioned something about losing hope in 1274. Raven didn’t have time to Google the date to see what was significant about it, but she intended to do so later.

She retrieved her new reading glasses from atop her bedside table. Her old ones had been in her knapsack the night of Gina’s party. She hadn’t been able to find them. Ambrogio must have known her prescription because he’d replaced them—and with smart Prada frames.

She tucked her glasses into their case and made her way to the kitchen table, where she retrieved her new iPhone. Ambrogio had left it for her in its box, with a note that indicated the information stored on her old phone had been transferred to it, along with contact information for himself, Lucia, and Luka.

William’s name and contact information were noticeably absent. From this, she surmised that vampyres didn’t carry cell phones.

(They probably used carrier pigeons.)

Unfortunately for Raven, all the photographs she’d taken of her changed appearance hadn’t been transferred to her new phone. She no longer had visual proof of the healing of her leg, since her old phone was missing.

The absence of photographs seemed intentional. Certainly she hadn’t done it. She wondered what William’s reasons were.

Perhaps he was protecting her. Perhaps he was protecting himself. He certainly wasn’t demanding she maintain her changed appearance. Maybe he truly was attracted to her ordinary self.

As promised, Luka was waiting for her downstairs. He was a large man, standing well over six feet, six inches and probably weighing about three hundred pounds. He was also spare with his words.

When he saw her, he walked in front of her to the door and escorted her to the Mercedes, which was parked around the corner.

During the short drive to the gallery, Raven fingered the scarf around her neck. It was covering William’s mark now. He’d left behind a love bite.

She tried not to think about how pleasurable it had been to be in William’s arms and how sensual it had felt to have him kiss her neck.

She sighed.

He hadn’t mentioned anything about seeing her again when he dropped her off. In return, she hadn’t named a day for their film night.

Her apartment had certainly seemed spartan and lonely next to his opulent villa.

Truly her life had taken a surprising turn when it was clear that her next most likely date would be with a vampyre prince.

“Are you all right?”

Patrick greeted Raven with concern as soon as she entered the office space she shared with several other people. Other colleagues filtered in, chatting at one another’s desks before starting the workday.

She hobbled to her workspace, leaning on her cane. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re using your cane again.”

Raven shrugged. “I guess the new treatment I was trying failed.”

“You didn’t mention anything about a treatment. I thought your leg improved on its own when you disappeared.”

Raven lowered herself to her chair and placed her knapsack on the floor. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Right.” Patrick didn’t sound convinced.

He approached her, his hand reaching for her wrist. “What’s this?”

Raven tried to pull her hand away, but he’d already seen the bracelet.

“It’s a gift.”

“From whom?”

“Just a friend,” she said airily. She began withdrawing items from her knapsack and placing them in a neat row on top of her desk.

“The same friend who gave you the other museum-quality piece you had on last week?” He let go of her wrist. “That’s gold, Raven. How much do you think it’s worth?”

“Listen, Patrick, I met someone who’s a bit of a collector. He’s just lending me things for fun. No big deal.”

“Okay, okay.” Patrick lifted his hands in surrender. “I’ll stop being nosy. But you have to realize how this looks. You disappear for a week and come back looking like a totally different person. A week later, you’re back to normal, but you’re wearing expensive gifts. And I’m not talking about things any asshole could buy from Tiffany. I’m talking about medieval and Renaissance pieces that are probably traceable to a collector.”

Raven wracked her brain for a plausible lie.

She offered him a conspiratorial smile. “Okay. The deal is that I met someone. It’s early yet so I don’t want to say too much. He has some money and likes to spend it.”

“So is this the friend who gave you the gold cross?”

She peered around the room, making sure no one could hear their conversation.

“Yes. We’re just getting to know one another.”

“I thought you were going out with Bruno.”

“He had to cancel.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

Patrick’s expression shifted. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said weakly.

“But you’ve met someone else and that’s good. What does he do?”

“Uh, he deals in—rare vintages.”

Patrick smiled. “Well, if he ever has any extra, send a bottle over to me. Gina loves that stuff and it isn’t exactly cheap.”

Raven nodded, trying very hard not to squirm.

Patrick moved to sit on the edge of her desk. “Unfortunately I have some bad news for you.”

“What?”

“The head of security stopped me on my way into work this morning.”

Raven clenched the top of her cane tightly. “Why?”

“He saw the tape of you handing me the flash drive in the archives.”

“Oh, no. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Luckily I had a similar flash drive in my pocket that was filled with files I’d been transferring for the project I’m working on. I showed it to him and said you’d been helping me.

“He checked with the archivist, who confirmed I had clearance to copy the files, and that was the end of it. The archivist was puzzled when your name came up, but I covered for you.”

“Thank you.” Raven leaned back in her chair. “I’m really sorry about that. I owe you one. Again.”

“It’s fine. Did you ever find out anything else from those files?”

“I haven’t had a chance to work on it. I know that Botticelli changed Mercury’s hair, along with some other changes that are well documented. But this weekend I was a little busy.”

Patrick smiled. “Busy with your vintage collector?”

She looked away. “Maybe.”

“Good. I’m glad you can get out and have some fun. I saved the good news for last. Professor Urbano was in here a few minutes ago. He wants you to report to the restoration lab. I’m supposed to notify the archivist that you’re no longer working for her.”

“Really?” Raven almost clapped her hands. “Can I go now?”

“He said to report in as soon as you arrived.”

“Thank you.” She flashed him a wide smile and he grinned, hopping off the desk.

She zipped her knapsack closed and carefully stood, leaning on her cane. She crossed over to the wardrobe that sat at the end of the room and withdrew her lab coat, folding it carefully over her arm.

Patrick followed.

“I ran into Ispettor Batelli after I left the security office,” he announced, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“What did he say?”

“He said that the Interpol agent assigned to work with him disappeared last week.”

Raven stopped. “When?”

“The night you had dinner with Gina and me.”

“Agent Savola,” she whispered.

“That’s right. That was his name.”

Shakily, she leaned against the wardrobe door.

She had no idea that it was Agent Savola who’d popped out of the shadows the night the feral appeared. That he was the man who’d given his life trying to save her.

Her stomach heaved.

“Are you okay?” Patrick peered at her face.

“I think so. Why did the inspector tell you that?”

“I have no idea. I saw him talking to Dottor Vitali a few minutes ago. Neither of them looked happy.”

Patrick jerked his chin at her wrist. “For the love of God, hide that. You don’t want to be conspicuous with the inspector walking around.”

Raven pulled her cardigan over the bracelet, hiding it.

“Thanks, Patrick. I’ll be careful.”

Slowly but surely, she made her way across the room and down the hall to the restoration lab, wondering what Batelli and Vitali had been talking about.

Just as she was about to put her hand on the door, she stopped.

Probably there were witnesses who’d seen her, along with Agent Savola and the feral.

Raven didn’t know what to do with the realization. It was bad enough having captured Batelli’s interest in connection with the theft of the illustrations; she didn’t want his attention in connection with Savola’s murder.

And there was also the matter of Bruno’s attack, which William said he had handled. But had he?

She contemplated telephoning Ambrogio with a message for William, but decided against it. She was going to be late for work and didn’t want to upset Professor Urbano.

William was probably resting somewhere, anyway, out of the sunlight.

Raven spent the morning in Botticelli’s world, painstakingly applying a coat of varnish to the Birth of Venus.

Professor Urbano had decided that Anja, her replacement, had not progressed at an acceptable pace. There was also some question about the quality of her work. Urbano simply replaced her, assigning her to another project.

Raven was sympathetic with Anja’s plight and moderated her joy at being able to return to the lab. But it was with undisguised delight that she sat on a high stool, slowly and carefully restoring one of the greatest works of art in the world.

“Dottoressa Wood.”

Raven heard the voice but dimly. She was working on the figure of Zephyr, marveling at the way his face differed from the Zephyr who appeared in William’s version of Primavera.

She heard footsteps and the slight clearing of a throat.

She turned to her left and saw Professor Urbano standing there. He was smiling.

“Can I look?” He gestured to the patch she’d been working on.

“Of course.” Raven put her supplies in order and obligingly climbed down. She pointed out what she’d accomplished and where she’d left off.

She removed her glasses and waited nervously for him to pass judgment.

He took her place and used a series of magnifying glasses and other instruments to check her progress. When he descended from the stool, he was smiling.

“Very fine work. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“I think now is a good time for lunch.”

She looked around, noticing that their colleagues had already left.

“Before I go, Professor Urbano, could I ask you a few questions?”

“Certo.” He gestured to a nearby set of chairs and they sat down.

“When you worked on the restoration of Primavera, did you ever notice anything about Mercury’s hair?”

Urbano looked puzzled. “Such as?”

“Such as evidence of changes in color or length.”

Urbano looked off into space for a moment, as if he were regarding the painting in his mind’s eye.

“There was some slight change around the edges of the hair, as I recall, but nothing about the color or the overall length. Why do you ask?”

“I thought I saw something in one of the radiographs that suggested Botticelli changed the hair color.”

Urbano smiled. “Impossible. We went over the radiographs very, very carefully. Everything we found was documented and published.”

“Oh.” Raven nodded. “I have a couple of other questions, if you don’t mind.”

He gestured to her to continue.

“Did you know of any other version of Primavera that was painted by Botticelli, perhaps prior to the one upstairs?”

Urbano stroked his chin. “There were studies for the figures and drawings.”

“But not a painting?”

“No. Why?”

“Uh, when I thought I saw something about Mercury’s hair, I wondered if Botticelli had painted a previous version.” She lifted her new glasses. “It was just a thought.”

“Of course.” Professor Urbano gave her a patient smile and excused himself for lunch.

Raven watched him leave, mulling over their conversation.

She considered William’s account of how he’d acquired his Primavera, wondering if that was why no one had ever heard of it.

What she couldn’t understand was why no one seemed to have noticed the change in Mercury’s hair in the Uffizi’s version. She knew evidence of the change was visible. She knew she hadn’t made a mistake.

Your memory hasn’t been that great lately. You can’t even remember what happened the night of the accident.

It occurred to her that William might be the one behind Urbano’s lack of awareness, as he was behind so many odd events. Since Urbano had worked on the restoration of Primavera, he should have seen the change. Perhaps William had adjusted his memory during the restoration.

But why didn’t he delete the records?

Raven didn’t have an answer to that question, but she was determined to ask him. Her need to speak to him reminded her of what Patrick had said earlier about Agent Savola and Ispettor Batelli.

Raven walked with her cane to her knapsack and picked up her new phone. She called Ambrogio.

“Good afternoon, Signorina Wood.” He greeted her in English. “How may I help you?”

Raven grew flustered. “Um, hello, Ambrogio. Can I speak with William?”

“I’m afraid his lordship cannot be disturbed. How may I assist you?”

“Can you give him a message for me? It’s urgent.”

“Of course.”

She paused, feeling awkward. “Can you tell him that, um, the man I saw being attacked in Santo Spirito was an Interpol agent named Savola, who was working with the Carabinieri to investigate the robbery at the Uffizi?”

Raven’s tone grew urgent. “William needs to know this right away. The police haven’t approached me, but one of the officers is here and he spoke to one of my colleagues. Because the agent was attacked in front of my apartment, I’m worried they’ll put it together and come looking for me.”

“Please don’t worry, signorina. I will see that your message reaches his lordship. Is Luka with you?”

“I think he’s outside the gallery, waiting.”

“If there are any problems, go to Luka. He will bring you here.”

“Yes. Yes, thank you.”

“May I help you in any other way?”

Raven sighed. “No. Thank you, Ambrogio. That’s everything.”

“Then good-bye, signorina.”

“Good-bye.”

She ended the call, staring at her cell phone.

She’d passed along the information, but felt far from comforted. At that moment, however, there was nothing she could do.

She lifted her knapsack and began walking toward the door, leaning heavily on her cane.

That was when she saw Ispettor Batelli striding toward her.

“You saw Agent Savola being attacked?” he asked, in Italian.

“What?” She stalled.

“You just said that you saw him. What did you see?”

Raven frowned. “You misunderstood my English. I didn’t say that.”

Batelli swore. “I heard what you said. And my English is perfect. Savola’s Vespa was found outside your apartment.”

“Really? That’s strange.” She forced a smile. “I’m afraid I’m late for my lunch. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Who is William?” he asked, intercepting her.

“I have no idea.”

“Your telephone call. You wanted to speak with William. William who?”

“A family friend.” She smiled again. “Now I really have to go.”

She tried to move past him but he stood in front of her.

“William York?”

Raven attempted to hide her recognition, but she suspected she failed based on Batelli’s triumphant expression.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She skirted him and limped toward the door.

“Why didn’t you call the police? Why didn’t you report it?”

“Because I didn’t see anything.” She spoke over her shoulder.

“The investigating officers were told that Agent Savola was following you after hours. When they found his Vespa, they should have interviewed you as a matter of procedure. Why didn’t they?”

Raven didn’t turn around. “You’re harassing me. If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to Dottor Vitali.”

“And tell him what? I overheard you confess to having witnessed a crime.”

“I didn’t witness anything.”

Batelli brought his body in front of hers. “I saw the police reports. Your name doesn’t appear. Why is that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She continued her way to the door, desperate to get away from him.

“Someone is protecting you,” he called. “I’m going to find out who. You’re going to be questioned.”

Raven increased her pace.

“This time it will be with the public prosecutor!”

She exited the lab, ducking into the women’s bathroom. Leaning against the wall, she screwed her eyes shut and tried to calm herself.

She was in trouble.

Raven didn’t see Batelli when she exited the bathroom. In fact, he seemed to have disappeared.

She sent a text to Ambrogio, not wishing to court disaster by speaking to him on the telephone again.

He texted back five words:

His lordship will address it.

Raven took only a small measure of comfort from that text.

She was too agitated to eat lunch and so she wandered the second floor of the gallery, moving past the Botticelli room to look at Michelangelo’s Doni Tondo.

She hung back, allowing the visitors to admire the work.

She forced herself to stop worrying and simply focus on the great artist’s depiction of the holy family. Her eyes traced the figures, the folds in the fabric, and the men in the background.

By the time she was finished, her lunch break was almost over. She felt much, much better. Great art had the ability to soothe as well as nurture the heart.

Having taken what amounted to a mental vacation, Raven returned to the lab. She was pleased to be able to lose herself in the restoration work, finding a comforting rhythm in every brushstroke.

Soon it was time to go home. She deposited her lab coat in the office wardrobe and slowly made her way outside to where Luka was waiting.

He drove her to Santo Spirito and accompanied her up the stairs to her apartment. He searched her rooms before he allowed her to enter, then nodded at her and descended the stairs.

Clearly he was still a man of few words.

Raven checked her phone for messages, e-mails, or texts, but there weren’t any. It seemed as if everyone she knew was busy with other things.

Her apartment seemed small and maybe even a little sad. She’d spent a glorious day working on a beautiful piece of art, but now she felt unaccountably lonely. It was as if her world had transformed from a brightly colored Renaissance painting to the dark, somber work of a Dutch master.

She switched on her laptop and began playing Mumford and Sons, finding the music a pleasant distraction. She changed into a black T-shirt and jeans, placed her gold bracelet on her nightstand, and ate a modest supper.

After a solitary glass of wine, she retired to her bed, putting on her glasses and picking up The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

In chapter eight, one of the characters warned the others about beings who used to be human or should be human but weren’t, suggesting when they met such a creature they should reach for their hatchets.

She’d read the passage before. She’d read the entire book before. Now the passage took on a new meaning.

The hunters made it their mission to kill vampyres and harvest their blood. If they’d been hunting humans, the world would have cried out to stop them.

Genocide.

Ethnic cleansing.

Raven wondered if such moral prohibitions applied only to human beings or whether they could be applied to other species.

And what of William? If he needed human blood to survive but did not kill those he fed from, should he be destroyed? Or denied his only source of food?

She was attracted to him. He’d rescued her on more than one occasion. Raven was not used to being protected, at least, not since her father died. Her mother hadn’t protected her or her sister.

The fact that a mysterious vampyre would protect her, at great risk to himself, and that her mother would not, pierced her.

Even now, as she looked around her empty apartment, she wished he were there. She wished she could communicate how important his care had been. She’d been alone and self-sufficient for so long. It was nice to have someone to approach with her problems.

He was gentle when he touched her. And he kissed with tremendous passion. Raven pondered the vagaries of sex with a vampyre and, more improbably, love.

The song “Awake My Soul” began playing. Raven put her glasses and book on the nightstand and focused on the lyrics, staring at the ceiling.

William believed in souls. She wondered if there really were such things.

She wondered if vampyres had souls.

“Why the long face?”

“Ah!” Raven screamed, scrambling toward the window.

William was leaning against the doorpost, wearing a black dress shirt and black jeans, his arms crossed over his chest.

He was chuckling.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Raven clutched at her heart, willing it to slow. “You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing?”

He frowned. “I came to see you, of course.”

She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes. “Can’t you use the doorbell? You gave me a heart attack.”

William stood by the bed and leaned over her, bringing his ear close to her chest. “Your heart sounds fine—strong and healthy.”

“Very funny. How did you get in?”

“Magic.”

She turned on her side, facing him, her head resting on an upturned hand. “Just knock next time. Okay?”

His grin faded.

“That reminds me. Don’t let anyone into your apartment, especially if they ask to be invited.”

“Why?”

“Vampyres have to be invited into a home; otherwise, they can’t cross the threshold.”

“You must have entered uninvited when you brought me back the first time.”

“You invited me; you just don’t remember.” He gave her a knowing smile. “And the rules are somewhat flexible when it comes to me.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know.”

She lifted her eyebrows.

He shrugged. “It’s true. I don’t know the reason. It’s possible there are others, but so far I’m the only one I’m aware of who’s able to skirt the rules.”

“There must be an explanation.”

“Naturally.” He spread his arms wide and turned around. “Perhaps you’d like to examine me? Come up with a scientific explanation?”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to examine his very attractive backside. “Why are you here?”

He lowered his arms. “Am I not welcome?”

“You’re welcome; just unexpected.”

He approached the bed. “I came to give you something.”

“What?”

“This.” William placed a fist on either side of her hips and brought his mouth to hers.

Like his presence, his kiss came without warning.

He kissed her lightly at first, becoming more insistent as she responded.

She brought her hand to his chest and up to his shoulders, reveling in the strength beneath her touch. She could feel his muscles, his lean power, and the attraction that flared between them.

When she opened to him, his tongue slid against hers. He growled appreciatively, angling his head.

He toyed with her for a moment before withdrawing, making her follow him into his mouth.

She enjoyed his taste and the way he moved in an unhurried fashion, focusing only on the interplay of mouth, tongue, and lips.

She rolled to her back and he followed, bringing his body to cover hers.

It had been a long time since Raven had been in such a compromising position. Her hands slid up and down his back, pressing their chests together.

She could feel his arousal hard against her thigh.

Suddenly he lifted himself on his forearms.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. His eyes glittered and he seemed very pleased with himself.

But Raven also saw regret.

“I can’t stay,” he rasped, sliding his nose along hers.

“Why not?”

He kissed her again, a searing, toe-curling kiss. “Do you want me to stay?”

She turned her head from the burning intensity of his eyes.