She shook her head.
William continued his movements, lightly tracing the curves of her waist. “Tell me what happened at the Uffizi today.”
She placed her hand over his, stilling his movements. She found it difficult to think while he was touching her.
She recounted her conversations with Patrick and with Batelli, explaining how the inspector had threatened her with a formal questioning.
“Don’t worry about that.” William slid his hand to her hip and squeezed.
“He heard me talking on the phone to Ambrogio about Agent Savola. If he goes to the public prosecutor and has me brought in for questioning, I’m sunk.”
“There’s a security guard at the Uffizi who’s part of our network. He made a videotape of Batelli’s encounter with you and presented it to the director of the Uffizi this afternoon.
“He also sent me a copy. There wasn’t any sound from the security cameras, but what I saw was extremely damaging to the inspector. He accosted you, shouted at you, and tried to prevent you from leaving. The director reported him to his superiors and he was escorted from the gallery.”
Raven was surprised. “No one at work said anything.”
“Since the investigation at the Uffizi is ongoing, I’m sure things are sensitive.” He brought his face closer to hers. “When I promised to protect you, I meant it. No one, human or vampyre, is going to intimidate or harm you.”
She kissed him, bringing her hand up to brush through his hair. “Thank you.”
“The inspector is still in charge of the investigation but he’s been ordered to stay away from you and he’s been formally reprimanded. Now the police can’t bring you in for questioning in connection with the Interpol agent’s disappearance, even if they wanted to.” William tugged a lock of her hair. “The outcome is better than expected.”
Impulsively, Raven wrapped her arms around him, shoving her face into his neck.
William seemed taken aback by her reaction, but he recovered, hugging her back. “What’s that for?”
“For helping me. I’m used to having to rely on myself.”
“I’m more than willing to help you, in almost anything. Just say the word.”
“He scared me,” she whispered. She’d become emboldened, perhaps by their closeness.
William held her more tightly. “I could see that. But you stood your ground.”
“I didn’t realize it was Agent Savola who was killed by the feral. I didn’t get a good look at him.”
William brought his lips to her neck.
“Um, I spoke to Professor Urbano about the restoration of Primavera.”
William ignored her remark and continued to kiss her throat.
“When I was in the archives I noticed that Botticelli changed Mercury’s hair color and length.”
“I told him to,” William murmured against her skin.
It took a moment for Raven to process his remark.
“Because?”
“Because he was trying to paint me into the painting. I instructed him to adjust the features and the hair.”
“Mercury still looks like you.”
“Perhaps. But Zephyr doesn’t.” He kissed her once again, moving to the indentation at the base of her throat.
“Why doesn’t Urbano know what’s in the radiographs? He worked on the restoration with Baldini.”
“Probably because I used mind control to adjust his memory.”
“You did that?” She pushed back to look at him.
“Of course.” He frowned. “Their interest in Mercury would have raised questions. I’ve been known to visit the Uffizi on occasion. I didn’t want to be recognized.”
“How did you get into the gallery the night you took the illustrations?”
“Don’t ask those kinds of questions.” He nibbled on her skin.
“I can’t help it. It bothers me.”
He pulled away, his eyes hard.
“They were stolen from me. I’ve owned them since Botticelli completed them. I had no idea where they were until they materialized at the Uffizi over a century after they were taken from my home.”
“Wait a minute. You said Botticelli completed them?”
“Of course.” He sounded cross.
“But they’re copies, made by one of his students. The originals are in the Vatican and the Staatliche Museen in Berlin.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on William’s lips.
“No, the illustrations in Rome and Berlin are copies. I own the originals.”
“Holy shit.” Raven clapped a hand to her mouth.
Now William was grinning.
“During the Renaissance, I took an interest in human affairs. There were tremendous innovations in architecture, science, painting, and sculpture. I moved in human circles from time to time.
“Botticelli heard rumors about my true nature and decided to illustrate it in the original version of Primavera. I appear as Mercury and as Zephyr. A human woman who fell in love with me was the model for Chloris as well as the second of the three Graces.
“I was angry when I found out what he’d done and intended to kill him. He begged for his life, offering me the painting in question and a set of illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy. I agreed. He completed the copies later on.”
Raven dropped her hand.
“A human woman fell in love with you?”
“Yes,” he replied tersely.
“What happened to her?”
William ground his teeth. “She climbed Giotto’s bell tower at the Duomo and jumped to her death.”
“Good God! Why?”
“Because she fell in love with a monster.” William lowered his voice, his eyes steel gray.
“Did you love her?”
“No.”
Raven felt pain lance through her. Few things were more tragic than unrequited love. It was easy to imagine a young Renaissance woman falling in love with William, only to discover that he was a vampyre.
“I’m sorry.”
“So was I.” He shifted to lie on his back, folding his hands on his chest.
“Was she your pet?”
“No.”
Raven was uncertain what to do with that information. Whatever William’s relationship with the woman, centuries later he was still upset about her death.
She looked over at him as a terrible feeling passed over her. He’d mentioned many disturbing things, but all of a sudden several of them came to mind, forming a picture she did not like.
She decided to change their topic of conversation. “Are you hungry?”
Now it was his turn to lift his eyebrows. He stared unashamedly at her neck.
“I meant for food,” she clarified. “Human food. Or wine?”
“I could take a glass of wine, but our bodies don’t digest human food.”
She moved as if to climb off the bed, but he stopped her, placing an arm on either side of her body.
“Are you in pain?”
“No.” She looked away.
“Then why are you upset?”
“I’m not.”
William’s eyes narrowed.
“You are. I can see it, hear it, and, more importantly, I can smell it. What’s the matter?”
She made a face.
“And don’t lie.” His tone grew serious.
Her eyes moved to his. “Did you eat before you arrived?”
“Of course.”
“How many times a day do you eat?”
“It depends. Old ones can feed once per day. Younglings need to eat frequently. I feed when the mood suits, either once or twice per day. It depends on what’s on offer and what my appetite is.” He smiled at her slowly. “I’ve been known to have a healthy appetite.”
“Whenever you feed, you have sex?”
His smile disappeared. “Why are you using that tone?”
“I’m not using a tone.” She tried to shift away from him but he hovered over her, caging her with his body.
&nb
sp; His eyes narrowed. “You sound upset.”
“Well, I’m not,” she huffed.
“It’s usual for a vampyre to have sex when he or she feeds. But I tend to be a bit more discerning.”
She looked up at him with interest. “So you don’t have sex every time you feed?”
“Why are you so concerned about this?”
“No reason. Can I get up now?” She glanced at his arms pointedly.
“Cassita.” He ran his nose down the side of hers. “Are you jealous?”
“Of course not.”
He fought a smile. “Then why are you asking about my sexual assignations?”
“You said you wanted me. I was curious if you were building a harem.”
“Such things don’t interest me.”
She hummed in response. “I’m sure you could find someone who didn’t need a cane.”
He brought his lower body to hers. “Are you considering engaging in intercourse with me?”
She reddened. “I’m just trying to figure out what your game is.”
“It isn’t a game. As I told you before, you’re the first to capture my interest in a very long time.”
He bent down and kissed her firmly. He swept her hair to the side and stroked her neck, lightly, up and down.
When he pulled back, her eyes were still closed.
“Your beauty is a feast for the eyes as well as the senses.”
At that her eyes opened. “I hate it when men lie.”
“Look at me,” he ordered, his tone momentarily harsh.
Their eyes met.
“I have no reason to lie. While it’s true that flattery is a means of seduction, I have no reason to use it with you. I think you’re beautiful. If you want me to heal your leg, I’ll do so. But stop playing the jealous mistress. I don’t owe you explanations or fidelity, unless you agree to be mine.”
He rolled to the side and left the bed, moving to stand next to her desk.
She sat up, watching him. He looked very unhappy.
“Are vampyres faithful to their pets?”
“No.”
“And you?”
“I’ve never had a pet,” he confessed.
“Never?”
“That’s correct.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I can only surmise that part of your reaction has to do with my story about Allegra, the young woman who killed herself. The story is not a pleasant one. Perhaps I’ll tell you someday.
“In the interim, I’ll reiterate what I have already said. You are not my pet and if anything were to develop between us it would be pleasurable and enjoyable.”
She toyed with her fingernails, avoiding his eyes.
He lifted his arms in frustration. “Why don’t you tell me what is really going on?”
“I think I missed you,” she blurted out. “When I came home after staying with you, the apartment seemed so quiet.”
William smiled, and the smile lit his entire face. “You missed me?”
Raven looked down at the bedcovers. “What kind of person am I? You kidnapped me, you threatened to keep me as your sex slave, and I miss you? I must have serious issues.”
William’s expression darkened. “Is it really so terrible to desire my company? Am I so repulsive that you’d despise yourself for wanting to see me again?”
“It isn’t exactly natural. You’re a vampyre.”
“I may as well be human. I’m not feeding on you.” He gave her exposed throat a hungry look. “If fidelity matters, I’ll volunteer the information that, for the present, I’m not having intercourse with anyone—vampyre or human.”
Raven tried to ignore the strength of feeling that bubbled up inside of her. But she failed.
He sat next to her on the bed once again. “There is mutual attraction between us. Clearly we enjoy one another. Spend the night with me, just once, and you’ll see how magnificent we will be together.”
He traced her cheekbone with his finger. “It will be the greatest evening of your life, I swear it.”
Raven closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
The music shifted and her laptop began playing Madeleine Peyroux’s “Dance Me to the End of Love.”
“I like this,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “I never listen to modern music.”
He traced the V-neck of her T-shirt, his finger descending to just above the curve of her breasts.
She grabbed his wrist.
“Are you positive the illustrations you have are original?”
“Yes.” His eyebrows knitted together in irritation. “Forget about them. You’re the only work of art I’m interested in.”
He brought his lips to her throat.
Raven knew she was fighting a losing battle. His touch was light but sensuous, leaving a scorched trail across her skin.
No one had ever made her feel this way before. She felt as if he were drawing away her resolve, little by little, and soon there would be nothing left.
“You have to give them back.”
William lifted his head.
“Absolutely not.”
“You own a lot of beautiful things,” she said quietly. “Don’t you want to share them?”
“No. And I’d rather not discuss them, especially when I’m trying to seduce you.”
“Is that what’s happening?”
“This is the dance of love. Men and women have been doing it for centuries. What did you think was happening between us?”
“No one ever looked at me with . . . desire.” She fumbled her words, embarrassed.
“Because human beings are shallow, ignorant creatures.” He lifted his eyebrows, as if daring her to contradict him.
Her eyes dropped to her hands, which were gripping the quilt. “You don’t mean love, you mean sex.”
He frowned. “I am not capable of love, Cassita. No vampyre is.”
He lifted his hand and ran it through her hair.
“But I am capable of tenderness, I think, at least with you. Can’t that be enough?”
Raven fought the urge to wince.
Perhaps these had been the words William spoke centuries earlier to the woman who jumped from the bell tower. For her, it had not been enough.
Raven had always discounted love, thinking it wasn’t possible for her. She wondered bleakly if William was offering her the best she could do.
She moved toward the head of the bed, putting space between them.
“Let’s not talk about love, okay? It’s ridiculous to have that conversation when we barely know one another.”
William’s expression tightened, but he did not disagree.
“Would sex bond us?” she asked.
“Bond us?”
“You mentioned something once about vampyres bonding.”
He shook his head. “That bond is through the intake of blood.”
“Oh.”
“The sexual act unifies the two, unless the parties will that it doesn’t.”
“So is that what you’d do? You’d have sex with me, but will that it didn’t bring us closer together?”
“I never said that.” His eyes took on a strange light.
Raven didn’t want to consider what that meant.
“Getting back to the illustrations, since they’re original, why don’t you share them with the world? The way the Emersons did?”
William stood, placing his hands on his hips. “Don’t mention the name of those thieves. They stole from me and they’re going to pay for it.”
At that moment, Raven was almost grateful for William’s anger. It was a great deal easier for her to deal with than his hands on her body. But she found his response distressing.
“You’re talking about a man and his wife and child. You wouldn’t harm them, would you?”
His expression remained unchanged.
“The Emersons weren’t alive a hundred years ago,” she persisted. “They didn’t break into your house.”
“That is no excuse.”
“Th
ey’re a young family with a baby. I don’t know the professor, but I met his wife. She told me they’re going to adopt a child from the Franciscan orphanage.”
Something shifted in William’s eyes, but he didn’t speak.
“It’s true. They’re going to adopt a little girl who has special needs. I volunteer at that orphanage. I know Maria. No one wants her. If you kill the Emersons, that little girl will never have a family.”
William clenched his jaw.
“That is not my concern. I cannot tolerate thievery. If the others realize I let this go, it will weaken my authority.”
“Can’t you strengthen your authority in other ways? Find out who stole from you originally?”
“I have my suspicions.”
“Then leave the Emersons alone.”
“Never,” he said haughtily, moving toward her bedroom door.
“William,” she called. “I need to tell you something.”
“Proceed.” His tone was cold but his eyes radiated concern.
“I think it’s obvious I’m attracted to you. And I—” She struggled for the words. “I feel something for you.”
She held up her hand. “Not love. I’m not sure love is for me, anyway. But if you harm the Emersons, whatever is between us will end. I can’t condone punishing the innocent for someone else’s crime, especially a mother and child.”
“I’ve already decided not to harm the family,” William responded primly. “But Emerson received stolen property. That hardly makes him innocent.”
Raven’s eyebrows knitted together. “Do you think whoever sold him the illustrations revealed they’d been stolen? The Swiss family probably wasn’t even alive when they were taken from you.”
“I want justice.”
“In your justice, don’t forget mercy.”
William’s gaze moved inexplicably to the kitchen, then back to Raven.
He said nothing.
“If you’re intending to hurt Professor Emerson, take this back.” She picked up the gold bracelet from her nightstand and held it out to him. “I don’t want it.”
He scowled darkly. “It’s for your protection.”
“Which I no longer want.”
“You wanted it badly enough a few minutes ago.” William sounded bitter. “I see you return gifts from men with practiced ease.”
“Men don’t give me gifts.”