Maria exhaled a soft sigh, the warmth of her breath dancing over his skin. Raphael brushed back a piece of hair that was still stuck to her cheek. His hand moved down until his curious fingers arrived at her throat. He stroked along the soft skin, feeling the silkiness under his touch. He felt her pulse under his thumb, steady and strong. Then he threaded his hand around her neck. Maria’s head tilted up in sleep. “Yes, little rose,” Raphael said, his voice a mere whisper. “Such a pretty, pretty neck you offer me.” Raphael lifted his other hand and brought it to her throat. As gentle as a whisper, his fingers circled her fragile bones. Raphael’s nostrils flared at the stunningly beautiful sight. He squeezed slightly, allowing just enough pressure through his fingers to give him a taste of what her total submission would bring, but not enough to leave a mark or rouse Maria from sleep.

She moaned softly, her back arching. Her bared breasts rose with her arch, her nipples hardening. Excitement rushed through his veins. She might not know it yet, but Maria liked his hands around her neck; she craved it. She was born for him, to award him this gift. As if he were the bright sun, his little rose curled into his soothing rays. He allowed Maria to sleep in his bed for a short while, just long enough for her sweet scent to infuse his sheets. And all the time, Raphael kept his hands around her neck, just . . . imagining . . .

“You won’t defeat me, little rose,” he whispered into the stark blackness of night, hungover from the strange sensation her touch brought to his chest. “I will best you, own you. Then I will kill you. Of that, you have my solemn vow.”

Chapter Ten

Three weeks later . . .

Uriel stood and drew back his hood. Raphael rocked on his feet. He didn’t want to be in the Tomb right then. He wanted to be back in his room. What was Maria doing at that moment? Was she obeying his order to wait for him on his bed, kneeling and eyes downcast?

“Raphe.”

Raphael lifted his eyes at the sound of his name. Sela stood before him, regarding him curiously. “You close?” Sela removed his hood and hung it in the closet. Raphael, by rote, did the same. A strange pull in his gut was making him feel off kilter. Maria . . . she was acting strangely today. Her blue eyes were dull, her skin paler than usual. She obeyed his commands, but there were no smiles on her face, no gasps when he sucked her clit. When she came, she barely cried out. Pains shot through Raphael’s chest as he remembered her eyes drifting to the side of the room, instead of being on him. Over the past few weeks, the way she looked at him had changed. She smiled. She smiled, and every time she did, his blood would heat and his lungs would squeeze. He rubbed his sternum. He still hated it. Still didn’t understand it. But he’d gone past the point of no return. When he thought of not brushing her hair, of not licking her tits and clit, that awful ache pulled in his stomach.

Was she hurt? He tried to remember if he had hurt her. His head throbbed. He didn’t know, didn’t think he had. He had watched her, trying make her smile. He made her come, yet the dullness in her eyes remained.

“Raphe!” Sela repeated. “Christ, brother, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I need to get back to my room.” Raphael brushed past Bara, Uriel, Diel, and Sela. Michael stepped in front of him as he reached the bottom of the staircase. His best friend’s ice-blue stare was locked on him, assessing. Michael hadn’t come to his room once since Maria had been there. Gabriel had told him to stay away and give Raphael the time he needed to make good on his kill.

Michael’s head tilted as he regarded him blankly. “She dead yet? It’s been weeks.”

Raphael’s jaw clenched when the tightness in his chest increased. “No. Not yet.” Raphael hadn’t even fucked her yet. She hadn’t touched his cock. He didn’t know why the hell he was holding off.

No, that was a lie. He needed her to want him. Crave him as much as he craved her. She had to walk to him, then into the kill, willingly.

Maria was breaking. Slowly. But today . . . something was wrong today, and it was torturing Raphael’s mind. It pissed him off.

His blood felt like pure gasoline as it pumped through his heart. His bones felt like ton weights with every step. And there was anger. Anger and rage ignited every cell in his body as he thought of Maria’s lack of pleasure. She wasn’t giving herself over to him today. She came, but her eyes weren’t rolling back in her head and her cries weren’t loud and high-pitched.

Tags: Tillie Cole Deadly Virtues Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net