The Raven (The Florentine 1)

His hands moved to her hips, cradling her.

“I like it, too. It reminds me of my birthday.” His thumbs stroked her hips, just under the band of her bikini bottom.

“What about?”

“Our hotel in Rome. The balcony.” He brought his mouth to the side of her neck.

Julia closed her eyes and hummed. “I remember the balcony. There wasn’t a moon that evening.”

“A good thing, too. We were lucky we weren’t arrested.”

Julia’s eyes popped open. “Arrested? You told me no one could see us.”

Gabriel’s eyes glinted and his attractive mouth widened into a self-satisfied smile.

“No one could see us, Julianne, but they could damn well hear us. You’re . . . loud.”

Julia abruptly moved to stand, the water swirling about her. “Do you think someone heard us?”

“I think the Vatican heard us. And they were miles away.”

“Gabriel!” She reached out to catch his bicep. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Why?” He trailed a finger over her collarbone, back and forth. “You’re a healthy young woman who obviously enjoys sex. I should think the moans would be inspiring. Probably the best sex sounds Rome has heard in a millennium.” He winked, pulling her closer.

She covered her eyes with her hands. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“What should I have said?”

“I don’t know—stop?”

“Never.” He moved to whisper in her ear. “It was hot.”

She was quiet for a moment, and he began to regret telling her. Then her shoulders started shaking.

“Julianne? Don’t cry.” Gabriel’s voice sounded slightly panicked.

She removed her hands so that he could see she was laughing.

A wave of relief washed over him.

“We put on a sex show.” She spoke through her laughter, trying to catch her breath.

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“You seem to have gotten over your embarrassment rather quickly.” He gave her a puzzled look.

“I wouldn’t say that.” She closed her eyes, tipping her face to the sky above them. She shook her head slowly.

“I’m sorry, Julianne. I should have said something. But I was enjoying myself too much. I love hearing you—knowing that I’m the one pleasing you and causing you to cry out.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She brought her lips to his ear and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was hot.”

He kissed her firmly and she wrapped her arms around his neck. When he pulled away, he spoke against her mouth.

“I know something that would be hotter.”

She pressed herself more firmly against him. “And what would that be?”

“Skinny-dipping. With me.” He began tugging at the tie around her neck.

“Gabriel!” She protested halfheartedly, resting her hands on his shoulders.

“Our nearest neighbor is far away. I’m going to have to do an extraordinary job of pleasing you this evening, Julianne, otherwise no one will hear you but me.” His lips turned up into a half smile. “Now drop the bikini.”

“Aoibhe and the Virgin”

An Outtake from The Raven

May 2013

Florence, Italy

“I brought you a gift.”

The Prince regarded Aoibhe with cold detachment as they stood in one of the corridors near the Council Chamber. “That isn’t necessary, Aoibhe.”

She smiled, her beautiful face alight. “We had a falling-out, my prince. It’s customary to try to make amends, especially with an ally.”

She winked. “And you’ll like this gift, I assure you. I seem to have a talent for locating the only virgins left in Florence.”

Before the Prince could protest, Aoibhe approached him and touched his sleeve.

“I will be taking my own refreshment nearby. You should join me when you’re finished.”

She kissed him on the cheek once and disappeared into the room across the hall.

The Prince stood for a moment, inhaling the human’s scent. Virgins had a noticeable fragrance and one that was highly prized among his kind. But for reasons having to do with a human memory he had not been able to forget, the Prince tended to avoid virgins.

Still, he found himself hungry and Aoibhe had delivered food.

He opened the wooden door and closed it behind him.

“Who’s there?” a young woman called into the darkness, speaking Italian.

When he didn’t answer, she stood.

“I know someone is there.”

The Prince could see in the dark and so he had an excellent view. She was standing next to a low, armless couch, her arms wrapped around her waist. Her hair was long and fair, and her eyes were wide and very blue.

She looked, he thought, a great deal like Simonetta Vespucci.

“Please answer me,” she whispered.

“How old are you?” he asked, watching her.

At the sound of his voice, her face moved in his direction. She took a step backward and almost toppled onto the couch.

He was beside her in a flash, grasping her elbow to steady her.

Slowly, as if she were worried about his reaction, she pulled away.

“I’m eighteen.”

He could hear her heart beating and smell her scent, which was heavy with innocence.

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” She twisted her hands. “One minute I was in a club with my friends, the next minute I was here.”

He stepped closer and lifted her chin with a single finger. “Never board a ship unless you know its destination.”

She whimpered, her blue eyes lifting sightlessly to his.

“What are you going to do to me?”

He paused, indulging himself by tracing the edge of her jaw.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

At her sharp intake of breath, his finger dropped to her neck, stroking at the speed of a snail.

He sifted his hand through her hair until he was cupping the back of her head. Then he brought their lips together.

Her heart rate increased immediately and he could feel the heat steal over her skin.

“Who are you?” she whispered, her lips moving against his smile.

His smile disappeared.

“I am darkness made visible.”

The woman let out a shaky breath.

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“Are you going to hurt me?”

He studied her breathing, the flow of adrenaline through her body, the tension in her muscles.

“On the contrary, I came to give you a gift.”

“What is it?”

“Pleasure.”

He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her.

She began to relax a little as he held her, tentatively lifting her hands to his shoulders.

Her mouth was sweet. Almost as sweet as the scent of blood that lifted from beneath her skin.

In the old days, when he’d been young, he would have fed from her by now, most likely killing her in the process. But those days were long past.

He was an old one. He fed when necessary but rarely did he feel the overwhelming hunger and desire of his youth.

The young one in his arms aroused his appetite and his senses but she did not threaten his control.

He explored her mouth languorously, his tongue playing with hers.

She responded in kind, but clumsily.

He kissed her until she pressed her breasts against his chest, molding their bodies together. He slid his hands to her bottom, gripping and kneading the firm flesh.

Her lips parted and she breathed heavily against his neck.

“Lie down,” he commanded.

“What about the lights?”

“Don’t you know the myth of Cupid and Psyche? Some lovers prefer the dark.”

He backed her into the couch and brought his body atop hers when she reclined.

She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with his own, kissing her again at an unhurried speed.

He cupped her breast through her blouse and squeezed, before lightly running his fingers back and forth.

She murmured her pleasure, wrapping her arms more tightly around his shoulders.

He slid his hand down her side and lifted her thigh, angling it against his hip.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’m going to touch you.”

He drew up her skirt while he kissed her intently, exposing her skin.

He teased her inner thigh, dropping his lips to her throat.

He tasted her skin, nipping and kissing at an increased pace. And all the while his fingers ascended her thigh to between her legs.