Page 34 of The Raven

Suddenly the car came to a stop.

  “We’re here.”

  Raven opened her eyes and saw they were in an alley. She didn’t recognize the buildings on either side.

  Marco opened her door and helped her out, reaching inside to pick up her cane.

  “Thank you.” She took it from him and walked around the back of the car to where William was waiting.

  “That will be all, Marco. I’ll ring you when it’s time to return.”

  Marco nodded and returned to the driver’s seat.

  William stood in front of a rusty metal door. He pressed a stone in the wall to its left and a security panel emerged. He entered a long series of numbers and Raven heard a loud click.

  William opened the door, allowing her to step inside.

  “What’s this?” she asked, her eyes peering into the dark space.

  “This is Teatro.”

  Chapter Forty-six

  “It doesn’t look like a theater.” Raven strained to make out the features of the room.

  Behind her, William switched on the lights.

  The lights were dim, but they illuminated a long bar that ran along one side, what looked like a stage that stood in front of a dance floor, and a series of couches and tables and chairs on the other two walls.

  “It looks like a club.” Raven gave William a curious look.

  “It is.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “It’s closed this evening for a private engagement.”

  He gestured to one of the velvet couches and Raven sat down.

  William went to the corner, where the dj booth was located. Soon music filled the room.

  Raven recognized it as Madeleine Peyroux.

  “I thought you didn’t listen to modern music,” she called.

  “I’ve been persuaded to expand my universe.” He smiled as he approached her. “Can I offer you a drink?”

  Raven looked toward the bar. “Do you have human drinks here?”

  “This is a club for vampyres and humans.”

  Raven found herself disquieted by the revelation.

  “I’d like red wine, please.”

  William bowed and withdrew to the bar.

  Raven took the opportunity to examine the large space more closely. There were flat-screen televisions on the wall, all of which were switched off. There were a few doors that led from the central room to places unknown.

  It was, perhaps, a club like any other dance club. Except it catered to vampyres.

  William approached with a bottle of wine and two glasses balanced on a tray. He poured a glass for her and one for himself.

  “Going human tonight?” she asked as he handed her a glass.

  “I enjoy red wine.”

  He settled next to her on the sofa and clinked their glasses together.

  Raven tasted the wine. It was excellent.

  “Do you spend a lot of time here?”

  “Never.” William sipped his wine pointedly.

  “Why not?”

  “Decadence bores me.”

  “Why? What happens here?”

  William swirled the contents of his glass, his face studiously blank.

  “Nothing of importance.”

  Raven’s eyebrows knitted together. “It’s a simple question; not a state secret.”

  His eyes flickered to hers.

  “Secrecy is the currency that keeps me alive.”

  “Aren’t you tired of keeping secrets?”

  He placed his glass on the table in front of them, but didn’t respond.

  “I was under the impression that your secrecy would relax once we went to bed.” Her green eyes held a warning.

  William tried to hide his surprise at her rising anger but was unsuccessful.

  “I’m not used to confiding in someone. I will concede that you should have answers to some of your questions, within reason.” He relaxed in his seat, lifting his arm to rest across the back of the sofa. “I enjoy your company, Raven. I hope you enjoy mine.”

  “I do.” She focused on her wineglass. “Very much.”

  “There are other human beings who enjoy the company of vampyres. They come here to offer themselves.”

  “In what way?”

  “All ways.”

  She lifted her head. “And the vampyres?”

  “They come here to feed, to have sex, to see and be seen.”

  Raven peered around the room.

  “Do vampyres bring their pets here?”

  “Sometimes. This is a place where one might find a pet, or borrow someone else’s.”

  A sick feeling twisted in Raven’s stomach and she, too, put her glass down.

  “Cassita.” He lifted her hand and pressed the back of it to his lips. “Look around you. Who’s here?”

  “Just us.”

  “Precisely. I wouldn’t bring you here under normal circumstances.”

  “Why?”

  “I think if you reflect for a moment, you’ll discern the answer. Would you care to dance?” He gestured at the dance floor.

  She lifted her cane so he could see it. “I can’t.”

  “Are you in pain?” He leaned closer.

  “No.”

  “Then you can dance.”

  She withdrew her hand.

  “I’m unsteady.”

  “I’ll hold you up.”

  “I can’t really move that well.”

  “We’ll stand in one spot.”

  She scowled. “You’re one bossy vampyre, did you know that?”

  He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Yes.”

  Without ceremony, he lifted her into his arms as if she were as light as a feather and carried her to the center of the dance floor.

  When she was on two feet, he pulled her into his arms.

  The music continued; soft music that was conducive to slow movements. William held her close and they began to sway.

  “I didn’t know vampyres danced.” She couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.

  “I wanted an excuse to touch you.”

  “You don’t need an excuse.”

  “Don’t I?” He pulled back to search her eyes.

  She shook her head.

  He lifted his hand and caressed her cheek.

  “If you’re uncomfortable, I can give you vampyre blood to help your leg.”

  Raven resisted the urge to pull away from him and instead focused her attention on the top button of his shirt, which was undone.

  “I’m sorry it bothers you.” Her tone hardened.

  “Not in the slightest.” He stopped. “I’m worried about you.”

  She shrugged. “The wine helps.”

  “As long as you’re comfortable.”

  They resumed dancing, gently moving in concert to the music.

  “You dance well,” he observed.

  “Not really.” Raven blushed. “I took dance lessons when I was a little girl. Ballet.”

  “I detect it in your movements sometimes. Very elegant.”

  She stifled a laugh. No one had ever called her elegant since her accident. She regarded him skeptically. “Don’t you want to fix me?”

  William appeared puzzled.

  “Why should I want to fix you? You aren’t broken.”

  His answer pierced her.

  Her eyes bore into his, searching for any sign of duplicity or mirth.

  “Part of me wants to take the blood so I can run with you. I have a vision of the two of us, flying across the rooftops.”

  “Perhaps it isn’t a vision. It could be a memory of the first time I brought you to the villa.” He smiled. “When you decide you want to run, I have an entire cellar of excellent vintages at your disposal.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I can run fast enough for both of us.” He pressed his lips to her hair.

  She toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt, staring at it as if it were the soul of fascination.

  “Part of me feels like I would be bet
raying other disabled persons if I took the blood. That I’d be saying I’m not good enough. That my disability separates me from you.”

  William regarded her gravely—the set of her chin, her downcast eyes, the tension in her body.

  He was quiet for a moment, struggling to find words that wouldn’t add to her pain.

  “I don’t understand such things and I won’t pretend to understand them. All I can say is that I think no one—human or otherwise—is perfect. If perfection is the standard for normalcy, we all fail.”

  “I like that.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve always thought that human beings are all disabled in some way. It’s just that my disability can be seen. It never occurred to me to think of other beings as disabled, too.”

  “One might think that vampyrism is a disability. It’s certainly a curse.”

  Raven saw the barest hint of despair in William’s eyes.

  She knew better than to try to soothe him with pretty lies.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She reached up and kissed him, almost a brush of the lips.

  He looked down at her gravely. “In many ways, we are the most perfect match. We see each other as we are, but neither of us views the other as broken.”

  William’s words seemed to Raven to be more of a description of what he hoped was the case, rather than a statement of fact.

  She squeezed his shoulders encouragingly.

  “I think you’re right, William. As long as I can lean on you, I don’t need my cane.”

  “Then lean on me forever.”

  “Forever is a long time.”

  “Not long enough when you have hope dancing in your arms.”

  Raven saw desire and passion on William’s face, his gaze startling in its intensity.

  “Kiss me, William. Kiss me and pretend you mean it.”

  “I don’t have to pretend.”

  His lips descended to hers.

  Something had changed. Raven felt it the moment their mouths met.

  He’d lowered his defenses and was kissing her with more than just his body. She felt his affection and want, his focus and attention.

  Raven wrapped her arms around him. He took her weight, lifting her slightly.

  When his kiss lessened, she pulled away and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For that kiss. I felt it in my heart.”

  He brushed his lips against her forehead.

  “Take me to bed,” she whispered.

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?” He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

  She nodded.

  He swept her into his arms and strode quickly to one of the corridors that led from the large central room. They passed several closed doors until they came to the end of the hall.

  William opened the last door and stepped inside.

  The room was dark, but within minutes he’d lit candles and placed them around the space. Music could still be heard from down the hall but now it featured the rise of angelic voices singing without accompaniment.

  “Who’s singing?”

  William approached one of the candles, staring into the flame. He reached out to toy with it, passing his hand through the fire. “They’re called Stile Antico. They sing music that is more to my taste.”

  “It’s beautiful. What are they singing?”

  “A collection of Renaissance compositions on Song of Songs from the Old Testament.”

  Raven looked at her surroundings, at the large, central bed, which was dressed in black satin sheets. The walls were painted purple, the ceiling black. A mirror ran the length of one of the walls, reflecting the bed.

  She turned her attention back to William.

  “Song of Songs is the only book in the Bible devoted to sex,” she observed.

  “It isn’t just about sex. ‘The king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine.’”

  “Beautiful.” Raven smiled.

  “It’s about sex, seduction, and erotic attraction, but it’s also about affection, tenderness, and play.”

  “So the book is about you.” She gave him a saucy look.

  “It’s fortunate for me that you think so.”

  Raven’s gaze traveled to the erotic photographs on the walls. They were all black-and-white: some featured a man; others featured a woman; but all paid special homage to the human’s neck.

  “What is this place?”

  William focused on the flame once again. The set of his shoulders telegraphed his reticence.

  “Some of the members of the club use these rooms for sex. Intercourse is not permitted in the public spaces.”

  Raven frowned. “Have you ever done that?”

  “I’ve never had intercourse in the club before. I believe such assignations should be private.” William stood at the foot of the bed, watching her. “We should go.”

  “Why?”

  “This is not the place for you.” He leaned over and blew out one of the candles.

  “Wait.” She caught his arm. “We’re here alone. You’re playing beautiful music. And I want you.”

  “That bed has its own memories.” He jerked his chin. “So do the walls.”

  “Let’s give them new ones. Good ones.”

  William stood before her, cupping her face in his hand. “I didn’t bring you to Teatro for this. I simply wanted a place where we could enjoy one another.”

  “Then let me enjoy you.”

  She knelt on the bed, her fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt.

  He stood, watching her eagerness with no little amusement.

  “This is interesting.”

  “How so?” She removed his cuff links and peeled the black shirt from his body, throwing it to the floor.

  “I’m used to being the seducer.”

  She brought her lips to his chest. She kissed across the smooth surface, enjoying his sharp intake of breath when she opened her mouth and tasted his skin.

  His chest was hairless and well-defined, as were his abdominal muscles.

  “You don’t want me touching you?” She paused, tracing the space where his heart was.

  He dropped his voice. “I didn’t say that.”

  She felt his broad shoulders and smoothed over his biceps, fascinated by the lines and contours of his muscles, the muted strength.

  She gently stroked his abdomen, pressing a kiss just above his navel.

  He tangled a hand in her long black hair, letting it slip through his fingers.

  Raven touched his belt, her eyes fixed on his.

  He nodded.

  She undid his trousers, pushing them over his hips. Then she sat back on her knees, taking a moment to admire the V that sloped from his hips.

  William stood before her, proudly naked, his erection substantial and strong.

  She looked up at him. “Do you ever wear underwear?”

  “Never.”

  She wrapped her fingers around him, admiring his cool smoothness. Bending and kissing him softly, she brought him into her mouth.

  He twined her hair around his wrist, a rumble escaping his chest.

  He tasted different. That was the first thing she noticed.

  His flesh felt human, but cooler, the skin no doubt tougher. But his flavor was . . . indescribable. Not delicious, certainly, but preferable to a human male, in her estimation.

  She pleasured him with her mouth, hoping he was enjoying himself.

  By all accounts—the fierce look in his eyes, the sounds from his lips, and the way he clutched her hair—she was successful.

  But he was restrained.

  He kept tension between his hand and her hair, but didn’t tug or pull. Nor did he push her head down. In fact, he seemed quite content to remain still, allowing her to control the interaction.

  “You delight me,” he whispered. “You have an exquisite mouth. But now it’s my turn.”

/>   She smiled up at him, more than a little proud of herself.

  William deftly undid her dress, tossing it aside.

  “Ah.” He breathed out, staring at the black strapless bodysuit she was wearing.

  She frowned. “Don’t you like it?”

  “I like it a great deal.” His eyes moved up and down, taking in every inch of the satin fabric. “Black is my favorite color.”

  “I didn’t know that.” She winked.

  He pressed a light hand to her chest, urging her to lie back. His lips moved to her breasts, through the bodysuit, as his fingers dipped between her legs.

  “I like that,” she murmured, squeezing his wrist.

  “So do I.” His hand moved to her bottom, where he traced the ascending strip that formed the thong.

  He licked his lips.

  He rolled her on her side, simply so he could admire her bottom, cupping and squeezing with both hands.

  He slid a finger across the thong between her legs, tantalizing her.

  Raven moved to her back once again and parted her legs. William’s expression was triumphant as she moved in concert with his hand.

  Without warning, his fingers withdrew and he was peeling her out of her bodysuit.

  He took her hands in his and extended them to her sides before lowering himself to her body.

  A few urgent kisses, a few tugs on her nipples with his mouth, and he pushed inside her.

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. He stretched her almost to the point of pain, but she welcomed the fullness.

  William moved slowly, his mouth joined to hers before it descended to lick her breasts.

  She lifted her hips to meet him, enjoying every movement, every thrust.

  “How do you feel?” He spoke against her collarbone, kissing a line from shoulder to shoulder.

  “Beyond words.” She flexed her hands in his, lifting her head to kiss his brow.

  He released her hands and dropped his own to her backside, gripping her as he entered more deeply.

  His eyes met hers and, for the first time, she saw uncertainty in them and not a little worry.

  She pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.” He stifled a groan.

  “You make me feel pretty.”

  “For so you are. Noble and brave and pretty. Your body is soft and inviting.” Now he groaned as if tortured. “You threaten my self-control.”

  “Then let go.”

  “I can’t,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.