He pressed a single finger against her, perhaps expecting her to pull away.
But she didn’t. She tugged his head toward her neck and moaned in his ear.
His fingers pushed her underwear aside, exposing her to his touch.
She lifted her hips to meet him, panting in his ear as he circled and pressed.
She began to tense beneath his fingers and he took that opportunity to sink his teeth into her neck.
She climaxed beneath him with a low cry as her blood flowed, warm and sweet, into his mouth.
He dipped his tongue in the nectar, savoring the taste, while she shuddered in his arms, her orgasm continuing.
Pain and pleasure mixed together in her body as he drew the life from her artery, drinking slowly.
When her climax had ended and she grew still beneath him, he released her neck.
His tongue moved to lick her wound, ensuring not one drop of her blood was wasted.
With a satisfied smile, he spoke in her ear.
“Sleep, young one. Rest well, remembering nothing of our time together. Don’t return to Teatro again.”
The young woman in his arms closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply.
In a moment, she was asleep.
He lifted himself from atop her slight form and stared down at her, taking one last moment to inhale her tantalizing scent.
For reasons known only to himself, he left her unplucked to pursue more carnal pleasures in the room across the hall.
“Was she delicious?” Aoibhe greeted him, dabbing her lips discreetly with a piece of red silk.
“Very.” The Prince glanced at her mouth. “And yours?”
“Tasty enough as a starter.” She patted the bed on which she was sitting, naked. “I prefer the main course.”
“Where is she?” The Prince sniffed the air, noting that the human scent lingered but not strongly.
“Taking a nap.” Aoibhe indicated a door that led to an inner chamber.
“Did you pluck her?”
“Absolutely.”
“If I’d known what you were doing, I’d have arrived sooner.” The Prince’s eyes moved to the inner door.
Aoibhe rose to her knees and bowed atop the black silk sheets. “Don’t tease me, my Lord. It’s been some time since you’ve allowed yourself to watch.”
He chuckled to himself, as if remembering a secret.
“I watch when sufficiently motivated.”
She sat back on her calves, gazing up at him, her long, fiery red hair streaming across her shoulders and covering her chest.
“Come here,” he commanded, his expression shifting.
She moved toward him.
He raised his hand and pushed her hair behind her back, exposing her breasts.
Aoibhe closed her eyes, pressing herself against him. “I can smell her innocence on you. I assume that innocence is ended.”
The Prince pressed his hand over her breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm, before swiping his thumb across her nipple.
“Enough speech,” he growled, dropping his mouth to her shoulder.
She encircled her arms around his neck, before kissing him deeply.
Then with a low laugh, she led him toward the bed.
As Julia scanned the crowd, one face stood out. A young-looking, fair-haired man with strange gray eyes stared unblinkingly in her direction, his expression one of intense curiosity. His reaction was so different from the other guests, Julia couldn’t help but return his stare, until Gabriel nudged her, drawing her attention back to their host.
Dottore Vitali painstakingly traced the provenance of the illustrations from the Emersons back to the nineteenth century, where they seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
The Uffizi was proud to display images that had not been viewed in public since, perhaps, their creation.
The audience murmured appreciatively and broke out into enthusiastic applause as Vitali thanked the Emersons for their generosity.
Gabriel moved his arm in order to take Julia’s hand, squeezing it. They nodded and smiled their acknowledgments. Then he walked to the podium and offered a few words of thanks in Italian to Vitali and the Uffizi.
He turned his body sideways, his eyes fixed on Julia’s.
“I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my wife, Julianne. The lovely lady you see before you is the reason why this evening came about. Without her, I would have kept the illustrations to myself. Through her words and her deeds, she has shown me what it is to be charitable and good.”
Julia blushed, but she could not look away. His magnetic gaze was focused entirely on her.
“This evening is only one small example of her philanthropic work. Yesterday, we spent the day at the Franciscan orphanage, spending time with the children. Earlier today, my wife was on a mission of mercy with the poor and homeless, in the city center. My challenge to you this evening is to enjoy the beauty of the illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy, and then to find it in your hearts to celebrate beauty, charity, and compassion in the city Dante loved, Firenze. Thank you.”
The crowd applauded, with one exception. No one seemed to notice the fair-haired man’s cynical reaction to Gabriel’s call to virtuous living, or the contempt he expressed when Dante was mentioned.
Gabriel returned to Julia and kissed her cheek chastely before facing the applauding crowd. They posed for photographs and cut the ribbon that was strung across the doors that led into the exhibition. The exhibit was declared open, to the sound of much applause.
“Please.” Vitali gestured to the room, indicating that the Emersons should be the first to view the collection.
Gabriel and Julianne entered the room and were immediately awestruck. The space had been renovated, its normally pale walls painted a bright blue to better display the pen-and-ink illustrations, only some of which were in color.
The illustrations were arranged in order, beginning with Botticelli’s famous Chart of Hell. In viewing the collection, one was able to witness the journey of a man’s soul from sin to redemption. And of course, there was the inevitable reunion of Dante with his beloved Beatrice.
“What do you think?” Gabriel held Julia’s hand as they stood in front of one of their favorite images, Dante and Beatrice in the sphere of Mercury. Beatrice was wearing flowing robes and pointing upward while Dante followed her gesture with his gaze.
“It’s beautiful.” She linked their pinky fingers together. “Do you remember the first time you showed it to me? When I came to dinner at your apartment?”
Gabriel lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “How could I forget? You know, I showed them to you on impulse. I hadn’t even told Rachel about them. Somehow, I knew I could trust you.”
“You can trust me.” Her dark eyes grew serious.
“I know.” He appeared conflicted and for a moment Julia thought he was going to confess his secrets, but they were interrupted.
The attractive, fair-haired man approached, angling to view the illustration.
As if in a dream, Julia watched the stranger move. His body almost appeared to float across the floor, his footsteps light and fluid. He appeared tall but was actually an inch or two shorter than Gabriel. Julia perceived that although the man was trim, his elegant black suit hid muscles that rippled beneath the fine material.
The Emersons politely retreated, but not before Gabriel locked eyes with the other guest. Wordlessly, Gabriel placed his body between the stranger and Julianne, blocking her from his view.
“Good evening.” The stranger addressed them with a British accent, bowing formally.
To Gabriel’s trained ear, the accent sounded Oxonian.
“Evening,” Gabriel clipped, his palm sliding down Julia’s wrist in order to grasp her hand.
The guest’s eyes followed the path of Gabriel’s hand, and he smiled to himself.
“A remarkable evening,” he commented, gesturing at the room.
“Quite,” said Gabriel, gripping Julia’s hand a
little too tightly.
She squeezed back, indicating that he should release the pressure a little. “It’s generous of you to share your illustrations.” The guest’s tone was ironic. “How fortunate for you that you acquired them in secret and not on the open market.”
The stranger’s eyes traveled from Gabriel’s to Julia’s, pausing briefly. His nostrils flared and then his eyes appeared to soften before he turned to the drawing nearby.
“Yes, I count myself lucky. Enjoy your evening.” With a stiff nod, Gabriel moved away, still gripping Julia’s hand.
She was puzzled by Gabriel’s behavior but elected not to ask him about it until they reached the opposite end of the gallery.
“Who was that?”
“I have no idea, but stay away from him.” Gabriel was visibly agitated, and he passed a hand over his mouth.
“Why? What’s going on?” Julia stopped, facing him.
“I don’t know.” Gabriel’s eyes were sincere. “But there’s something about him. Promise me you’ll stay away.”
Julia laughed, the sound echoing across the gallery. “He’s a bit odd, but he seemed nice.”
“Pit bulls are nice until you put your hand in their cage. If he moves in your direction, turn around and walk away. Promise me.” Gabriel dropped his voice to a whisper.
“Of course. But what’s the matter? Have you met him before?”
“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. I didn’t like how he was looking at you. His eyes could have burned holes in your dress.”
“It’s a good thing I have Superman to protect me.” Julia kissed her husband firmly. “I promise to avoid him and all the other handsome men here.”
“You think he’s handsome?” Gabriel glared at her.
“Handsome the way a work of art is handsome, not the way you are. And if you kiss me now, I’ll forget him entirely.”
Gabriel leaned forward and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers before pressing their lips together.
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SYLVAIN REYNARD
Praise for the Gabriel Trilogy:
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First published by The berkley Publishing Group,
a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2015
This edition published by Penguin Group (Canada), 2015
Copyright © 2015 by Sylvain Reynard.
Excerpt from book two in the Florentine series by Sylvain Reynard copyright © 2015 by Sylvain
Reynard.
Excerpt from Gabriel’s Redemption by Sylvain Reynard copyright © 2013 by Sylvain Reynard.
“Aoibhe and the Virgin”; “Stelle Su Firenze”; and “An Umbriam Swim” by Sylvain Reynard copyright © 2015 by Sylvain Reynard.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Cover design by Lesley Worrell.
Cover photos: Woman by Steffen Lachmann / Gallerystock; Archway by Giuseppe Paris / Shutterstock; Figure by FZR / Shutterstock; Florence Duomo by RayTango / Thinkstock.
Interior text design by Tiffany Estreicher.
Page vii: Sandro Botticelli “La Primavera (Spring).” Reproduction from encyclopedia “Treasure of
Art,”
Partnership >, Petersburg, Russia, 1906. Copyright © Oleg Golonev / Shutterstock
Colour separation by Splitting Image Colour studio, Clayton, Victoria
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