The Roman (The Florentine 3)

RAVEN MOVED INSTINCTIVELY, covering her sister with her body. Animalistic snarls and hoarse vampyre cries filled her ears, along with the thundering of footsteps from all directions.

She heard a growl by her elbow and an Italian oath, accompanied by the whistle of something metallic slicing through air. A heavy object thudded to the ground some distance away.

A hairy paw grabbed the ankle of her injured leg and pulled, almost yanking her hip out of its socket. She released her sister and kicked, twisting violently.

“Let go!” she cried. “Help. Help!”

The grip on her foot tightened, and she felt the bones in her ankle groan in protest. She rolled to her stomach and clawed at the ground, trying to catch hold of something. The stench of blood and unwashed flesh filled her nostrils.

She retched.

Something flipped her to her back. She looked up into dark, insect-like eyes.

Raven screamed, lifting her uninjured foot and kicking. The feral howled as she made contact with its face.

It grabbed both of her ankles and squeezed.

She yelped in pain and began to flail, fearful the creature would crush her ankles.

Then, all of a sudden, the feral released her.

Raven scrambled toward her sister. She huddled over her, examining her for injuries.

Borek stood a few feet away, his broadsword dripping black blood onto the body of a headless feral.

Their eyes met.

“Stay here.” He kicked the corpse aside and strode into the fray.

It was difficult to see, but Raven discerned a feral grappling with soldiers at the center of the clearing. Stefan stood off to one side, awkwardly clutching a sword.

The feral moved like an animal, hunched on all fours and rearing up only to strike. It appeared to be male and was of average size, but stronger than its vampyre counterparts. Raven counted one injured vampyre, who was kneeling on the ground, clutching his shoulder.

She blocked out the feral’s screams, interspersed as they were with incoherent mumblings and profanity. Her attention focused on her sister, hoping Cara wouldn’t choose that moment to regain consciousness.

A cry of triumph rang out, and Raven saw Borek standing with his sword held high, a feral’s head dangling from his other hand.

“We need to move. Now.” Borek tossed the head to one of the soldiers. “Retrieve the heads. Carry them a mile and drop them.”

“What about the corpses?” Stefan stepped forward, sheathing his sword.

“Leave them.”

“But they could reanimate.”

In two steps, Borek was towering over the physician, his sword still dripping feral blood.

Stefan cowered, blinking up at the commander.

Borek pointed his sword at Stefan’s chest. “Do you wish to announce our presence to everyone in the region?”

The French Canadian shook his head.

“Leave the corpses.” Borek turned in a circle, gesturing to the group. “Move.”

While the party lined up and prepared to run, he crossed to the injured soldier. Ignoring his pleas, Borek lifted his weapon and beheaded him with one sure stroke.

Raven staggered to her feet, leaning against the trunk of the tree as she tried to gain her balance.

Without emotion, Borek retrieved the head and sword of his fallen comrade. He directed two soldiers to carry Raven and her sister. The vampyres snapped to attention and walked toward the women.

Raven locked eyes with one of them as he approached. “Why did he kill his own soldier?”

The vampyre shrugged. “Guillaume was bitten by a feral. He would have become one of them.”

Raven swallowed, trying to quell her nausea.

Vampyres appeared to be human. Even she, who’d become the lover of one of the most powerful vampyres in Italy, forgot how different they were from human beings. Their cold-blooded actions and lack of empathy were all the more disturbing precisely because they looked human.

Raven resolved to keep the difference between the two species firmly in mind.

She couldn’t help but remember her previous encounter with a feral, near her apartment in Santo Spirito. She’d thought she would die until, inexplicably, the feral had stopped some feet away, cursing her for having a relic.

She wished she had one of William’s relics now. Borek had seen to it that Cara had medical attention, but he hadn’t done so out of compassion. He’d done so because he feared the Curia.

Raven needed to bolster her defenses.

“Commander Borek.” She lifted her voice, evading the soldier who was supposed to carry her.

The commanding officer ignored her.

“Commander Borek,” she repeated, louder.

He turned his head in her direction, as did the remaining members of their party, with the exception of Cara.

“We need to leave,” he growled. “Or you’ll end up dead.”

“I need a sword.” She extended her hand.

He stared at her incredulously. “No.”

She took a few limping steps in his direction. “I’m not afraid to fight. What if we encounter more ferals?”

Borek glared.

He walked toward her and held out Guillaume’s sword.

As soon as she took the weight of the weapon into her hand, it slipped from her fingers, toppling to the grass.

Laughter rippled across the vampyres.

Stubbornly, she tried to retrieve the sword from the ground. It was so heavy she could barely lift it with both hands.

Borek snatched the sword away from her, thrusting it into his belt. “Much as it pains you, you’ll have to rely on us for protection.”

He barked an order to the soldier assigned to her, and the vampyre bowed before taking off at a run. In his stead, Borek lifted her over his shoulder. They descended the hill at a high rate of speed.

Raven was surprised the commander would deign to carry her.

After they’d gone some distance, Borek slowed. He passed his hand down her uninjured leg and slid it under the hem of her jeans.

She jerked away from his touch. “What are you doing?”

“Keep your voice down.”

She felt something cool slide into her sock. Borek pulled the leg of her jeans down to cover it.

“A dagger.” His voice was low. “Conceal it from the others.”

Raven placed her hand at the small of his back, indicating that she’d heard.

“Aim for the throat,” he rumbled. “A dagger will be of little use against a feral or one of us. But it will buy you time.”

“Why are you helping me?”

Borek fell silent.

Raven had given up all hope of receiving an answer when his voice came out of the darkness.

“For now, at least, your fate is tied to mine.”

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Chapter Five

BY THE TIME the first rays of sunlight scattered across the Umbrian landscape, Raven was sitting on the floor of a ramshackle wooden building.

Borek was seated beneath a covered window, staring.

He hadn’t carried her long. In fact, he’d passed her off to another soldier shortly after hiding the dagger in her sock.

Raven had examined the weapon after they’d stopped, using the excuse that she had to go to the bathroom in order to gain some privacy. The dagger appeared to date from the Renaissance and would easily take pride of place in a museum. It was also extremely sharp. Even now, she had to be careful to extend her leg in a certain way so the knife’s edge didn’t breach her skin.

Raven ignored the commander’s perusal, turning to survey their shelter.

Some of the soldiers had climbed the rickety stairs to the upper floor, leaving Borek and two of his men to guard Raven and Cara. She and Borek were the only ones with open eyes. The other vampyres rested at the far end of the room, eyes closed, giving the appearance of sleep.

Raven knew better. Vampyres never slept. But as William had confided in her, their minds needed time to process the tumult of the day.

She observed her sister, whose chest rose and fell with steady breath. Her expression was peaceful.

Raven leaned over her.

“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Again.” She cupped her younger sister’s pretty face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sleep,” Borek ordered. “Now is not the time for regret.”

“I slept on the way here.” Raven adjusted her injured leg into a more comfortable position. “Why aren’t you resting with the others?”

“Someone has to keep watch.” Carefully, he lifted the window shade a crack, peering out into the daylight.

He dropped the shade.

Borek was solidly built, with dark hair that fell to his broad shoulders. In appearance, he seemed to be in his twenties, but given his strength, Raven inferred he’d been a vampyre for some time.

“Dan.” The whisper came from Cara, who lay on the floor next to Raven.