The Shadow (The Florentine 2)

“When he was finished drinking from me, he whispered in my ear, asking if I wanted the life he could give me.” William’s eyes fixed on Raven’s. “I said yes. In that moment, I felt his power. I felt the pull to join him. And I felt relief from my suffering. He placed my mouth on his neck and told me to drink.

“At first, I was horrified, but he kept whispering, ‘I will give you life. I will take your pain away. You will be my son.’” William shuddered, turning toward the gardens. “I drank.”

Raven placed her arms around his waist from behind, hugging him. He stood stiff and still, not touching her.

“What happened next?” Her voice was muffled by his jacket.

“The transformation takes time. It’s painful and confusing. I was barely conscious through most of it. No sooner had I swallowed the first taste of his blood than I felt regret. But I kept drinking.” His hands clenched into fists. “I was angry, I was in despair. Yet, even as I knew I was making a terrible mistake and unwilling to stop making it, I sent a feeble prayer to my teacher, begging his forgiveness, begging for him to pray for me.”

William placed his hands against the glass, head bowed.

“When I awoke, my body was as you see it now. My maker was standing over me with a look of triumph. He pulled me to my feet and said that he would show me my new gifts. And that’s how my life as a vampyre began.”

She hugged him more tightly, not knowing what to say.

“My maker was extremely powerful, which probably explains my strength.”

“Could he walk in the sun?”

“No.”

“But you can.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a mystery.”

“Perhaps. I spent time with my maker, who, true to his word, treated me as a son. One day I realized the normal things that deterred vampyres had little effect on me. I was wise enough to realize my discovery was something I should keep secret. On that day, I went to my maker and took my leave, saying I wanted to make my own way in the world. He gave me a father’s blessing and I left.”

“Where did you go?”

“I returned to the place where my teacher died—out of sentimentality, perhaps. I don’t know. I traveled up the hill and found that the items I’d left behind were still there. It was as if they were waiting for me. Without thinking, I picked them up. It was only later I realized they had power over other vampyres, but not me.”

“The relics,” she whispered. “They belonged to your teacher.”

“Yes.” His posture softened and he placed his arms around her. “They are all I have left of him. I don’t know why they have no effect on me, but they don’t.”

“If I were a superstitious person, I’d suggest they were a gift.”

William’s eyebrows drew together. “From whom?”

“Your teacher.”

“He wouldn’t give a gift to a creature like me.”

“He had compassion for your suffering when he was alive,” she said softly. “I don’t believe in an afterlife. But if I did, I would expect your teacher to have compassion on you still.”

“He’d be like the Curia—nobly disapproving.”

“Nothing you’ve told me about him and nothing I’ve read about him suggests he was that kind of person.”

William gave her a half smile. “You’ve read about him?”

“You forget, I went to a Catholic college. Your teacher was—”

William pressed his fingers to her lips. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“In my present state, I am unworthy to speak his name or to hear it.”

“I don’t believe that. I don’t think he’d believe that, either.”

William’s gaze bent to the floorboards and all at once, he looked like a boy. “He’d be ashamed of me for losing hope.”

“You were young. You’d experienced a great loss. I understand this. Why wouldn’t he?”

“I accepted what my tempter offered, knowing it to be wrong. That means I committed a mortal sin.”

“You were overwhelmed by grief. And even if you weren’t, in that moment you asked for your teacher’s help. You must have regretted your decision.”

William lifted his eyes to study her. For a moment, his guilty expression faded. Then, like a cloud determined to block out the sun, it returned.

Raven reached up to kiss the edge of his frown.

“Now I understand why you were so upset when I told you the feral called him a pedophile.”

William’s teeth ground together. “I would have killed it for the insult. Fortunately, by the time you told me, it was already dead.”

“Did you come to Florence once you’d retrieved the relics?”

“No. My memory of my human life was beginning to fade. But I remembered everything about my teacher and about Alicia. I returned to York as a vampyre, determined to exact justice.”

“And did you?”

“I didn’t rest until I’d found her killers. They were a band of brutes who’d been passing through the city. I hunted them, tortured them, and threw their bodies on a pyre. But it was too late for Alicia. I thought that as a vampyre I might have had the power of resurrection.” He closed his eyes. “I was wrong.”

He peered down at Raven sadly. “I’d spent time in Florence with my teacher. It was a beautiful city—full of artists and intellectuals. I decided to return. The Prince allowed me to join his principality and I’ve been here ever since.”

“I understand how it feels to lose a father. I’m sorry about your teacher.”

“Your surrogate father has returned.” William’s tone grew ominous. “Would that my teacher would make the same trip.”

“Father Kavanaugh told me to leave you. He said it was dangerous for me to be with you.”

“He’s right.” William withdrew from her embrace and looked out over the gardens. “If the Curia comes, you’ll be caught in the middle.”

“Father Kavanaugh said he’d protect me.”

“He will side with the Curia.” William gave her a look filled with resolve.

“Then we have to keep the Curia from coming.”

“No,” said William harshly. “I need to keep the Curia from coming. If they come, you must flee the city.”

“No. You tried to get me to leave before, remember? And I refused. I’m not leaving you or the city. I love you, William Malet. I’m staying with you.”

William’s eyes burned with gray fire. He pulled her into his arms, penetrating her mouth with his tongue. She clutched his shoulders, holding on desperately as his kiss claimed her.

Without warning, he backed her up against the nearest bookcase, pressing his body against hers.

Chapter Thirty-two

William’s left hand cupped the back of Raven’s head, cushioning her against the bookshelf. He licked at the inside of her mouth, his tongue teasing hers before withdrawing. She followed, eagerly tasting him, her fingers creeping up his neck to twist in his hair.

There was no space between them. His unyielding body pressed against her soft curves, the contact enticing.

She hummed as his hand slid to her waist, tracing the band of her jeans before popping the button. Raven took that opportunity to tug his dress shirt from his pants, undoing buttons and pushing the shirt over his muscular shoulders.

With a growl, William tossed the shirt to the floor.

In the flickering candlelight, she pulled back to examine him—his defined chest and abdominals, his strong deltoids and biceps. Her finger made a lazy circuit around his navel, and she smiled as he closed his eyes and groaned.

Feverishly, he took her mouth, unzipping her jeans and dragging them over her hips. He knelt before her, tearing at her underwear until it fell. Carefully lifting her injured leg to his shoulder, he nuzzled the inside of her upper thigh with his nose.

When his tongue made contact with the flesh between her legs, her head snapped back, slamming against the bookshelf.

“Ow,”

she cried, not quite seeing stars.

William lifted his face, his perfect lips glistening in the semidarkness. “Are you all right?”

She nodded sheepishly, placing her hands on his head in an effort to steady herself. She toyed with his blond hair as he continued to lick, teasing and tantalizing with every stroke.

The leg she was standing on began to shake. William’s cool hands cupped her backside, bracing her against his mouth.

Her head moved from side to side mindlessly as inchoate noises escaped her throat, echoing in the cavernous room.

He slowed his pace once she climaxed, but continued to caress her, until the sensation was too much and she tried to push him away.

Abruptly, he stood, eyes like glittering embers with a face fierce with longing. He picked up his discarded shirt and passed it over his face before throwing it aside once again.

Raven trembled against the bookshelf, her legs like rubber. He lifted her, pulling her legs to encircle his hips. His left hand cradled her head, shielding her from harm.

He brought his nose to hers. “When I am alone, I long for your taste. You are like honey on my tongue. I could feed on you for eternity.” He tugged at the buttons of her shirt.

Soon her shirt and bra joined his clothes on the floor, a tangle of discarded fabric.

She kissed the side of his face as his mouth dropped to her breasts, embracing the round, full flesh before drawing a nipple between his teeth. She clasped his head to her chest, savoring the sensation of his cool tongue.

He laved her nipples, alternating between them. His hand moved to her backside, supporting her as he positioned himself between her legs.