The Raven (The Florentine #1)(59)
Author: Sylvain Reynard

William despised himself.

“Cassita,” he whispered.

When she lifted her head, he expected to see cheeks streaked with tears, but they were merely blotchy and red. Her green eyes were watery and she looked miserable. Miserable and contrite.

The pain in his chest increased.

“I changed my mind.”

“No,” she cried, panic overtaking her. She scrambled from the steps to stand in front of him. “Please don’t go back on your word. Please.”

He shook his head, lifting his hand to quiet her.

“I’ve decided to let you go.”

“You can’t! We had an agreement. You said you’d help him.”

“I did.” He fixed his eyes on her and gave her what he thought was his most sincere expression. “I will honor that promise and help the boy. I will instruct Ambrogio to find medical help for your neighbor as well. That’s the best I can do for her.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

He shook his head. “No catch. I offer these things to you as a gift.”

“You brought me here as your prisoner. Now you’re going to let me go and give me what I asked for? I don’t believe you.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

His face grew pensive.

“You shamed me by offering yourself for the lives of others. I am regaining my honor.”

She eyed him skeptically, but said nothing.

He lifted his hand, touching her face. “A bird in a cage is never as beautiful as a bird that is free, Cassita. You’ve been wounded enough. I won’t add to your wounds.”

He bowed stiffly and turned to go.

She grasped his arm. “Can I go home?”

His gaze traveled from where she was touching him to her eyes, which looked hopeful.

He felt her hope like a brand on his skin.

“You’d be safest here, with me. But I won’t keep you.”

She released his arm and placed a hand to her mouth, relief washing over her.

He lifted his hand in caution. “But you must promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you will accept my protection. It’s for your safety, I assure you.”

“As long as I can go home.”

He dropped his hand. “When I return, I want to introduce you to my brethren.”

Raven opened her mouth to protest, but William interrupted.

“Maximilian and Aoibhe have seen you. If they see you a second time, they’ll take you. Once I’ve asserted my protection and put a few measures in place, no one will dare touch you. Then I will take you home.”

“I’d rather go home now.”

His expression grew momentarily severe. “My condition is inflexible.

You either agree or not.”

“I agree,” she said quickly.

“Good.” He pushed a lock of hair back from her face, an ancient sadness visible in his eyes. “Enjoy your day, Jane.”

He turned toward the door.

She watched him walk a few steps before she called to him.

“My name is Raven.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Raven’s view of the world had been transformed. It was, she thought, much like the switch from a geocentric view of the universe to a heliocentric one. Except her heliocentric universe included supernatural creatures that healed from knife wounds in minutes and fed on human beings.

She’d experienced a myriad of emotions—fear, wonder, relief, anger, and even, at some moments, desire. Raven was exhausted by the time William left her and so she ventured upstairs to the master bedroom and curled up on the bed. Within a few minutes she was asleep.

When she awoke, she felt much better. William had promised he would let her go and he’d also promised protection from the other vampyres.

He’d protected her in the past, but she worried what his future protection might include. He’d already revealed his plan to take her to meet Maximilian and Aoibhe. She did not relish a formal introduction.

If she were to be honest, she’d have to admit she was attracted to him. His eyes, his appearance, his mouth . . . he was handsome and magnetic in many ways. He kissed with such focus she almost believed he felt more than just attraction to her.

Almost.

She’d changed his mind, at least. That was no small victory.

She was relieved to be able to focus on William’s art collection, rather than the events that had transpired between them and the looming danger of her forthcoming meeting with William’s associates.

After a late lunch she engaged Lucia and Ambrogio in the task of helping her to examine two pieces—the Michelangelo in the front hall and the version of Primavera in the master bedroom.

They removed the works from the walls and placed them carefully on the dining room table, which had been shrouded in a white sheet.

Raven was careful to touch the paintings only while wearing white cotton gloves, obligingly provided by Ambrogio. She examined every inch of the works with a magnifying glass, dictating any damage or wear to Lucia, who made copious notes.

Without testing the age of the paint and using much more sophisticated equipment than was available in the villa, Raven had to guess at the dates of the paintings. By her estimation, both pieces seemed genuine.

She wished she could ask Professor Urbano’s opinion, especially of the purported Michelangelo. If authentic, that work would change art history.

Michelangelo was thought to have completed only one painting in his lifetime. He’d sketched in chalk and ink and painted on wood, but had focused much attention on sculpture and, of course, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

Throughout the afternoon, Raven tried from time to time to engage Lucia or Ambrogio in conversation. They were polite but distant and entirely mirthless.

She asked questions about William, but most of her inquiries were met with either silence or a change in subject. His staff gave a respectable account of his membership in British aristocracy and his love for the city of Florence. They avoided any hint of impropriety.

She wondered if they knew anything about his supernatural activities. She wondered if they’d enrolled in a Stepford-style training program for domestic servants.

In any case, Raven was certain that William’s staff would never disclose any of his secrets, nor would they ever, ever disobey his orders.

Chapter Twenty-eight

At ten o’clock that evening, Raven and William were seated in a black Mercedes, driven by a large man called Luka. The windows were tinted, keeping them safe from prying eyes.

When William had returned to the villa, two hours previous, he’d instructed Raven to dress in black and to cover as much skin as possible. When asked for his rationale, he’d patiently explained he was taking her to meet some of the others of his kind.