Home > The Raven (The Florentine #1)(67)

The Raven (The Florentine #1)(67)
Author: Sylvain Reynard

“If I were to ask you to heal my leg, would it be your blood you’d

give me?”

William stiffened. “No.”

He kept his arms around her, but moved to look straight ahead.

Raven wanted to press the matter, to pepper him with questions, but she didn’t. He’d already grown cross with her once that evening.

She was grateful he was going to help her neighbor and he was going to let her go. She didn’t want to do anything that might cause him to change his mind.

William released her.

“It’s time. Luka will accompany you and make sure you’re safely inside. He will be replaced by a guard who will watch your apartment from across the piazza.

“Monday morning, Luka will take you to the Uffizi.”

“Thank you.”

She gave him a small smile before picking up her knapsack.

“What, no argument? No protestation?” William gazed at her curiously.

“You brought me into a world where, even blindfolded, I could feel the power and hunger of the beings who surrounded me. Then you told me that there’s a class of humans who hunt you, who may decide to use me as bait. I need all the protection I can get.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it, holding it gently.

“Noah released the raven and the raven returned. If I were able to hope, I’d hope you would return to me. Good night, Cassita.”

“Good night.” Raven tried to hide her surprise at his remark and the delicate way he’d kissed her hand.

As she exited the car, she was surprised to feel a sudden sense of loss.

Chapter Thirty-three

Just before sunrise, William sat behind his desk rereading the letter Lorenzo had delivered to him earlier that evening.

To His Lordship, the Prince of Florence,

Greetings.

It was with joy we received your missive. As ever, the Principality of Umbria welcomes the friendship of the powerful Principality of Florence. We pledge our continued fidelity to our great and important ally.

The human beings you inquired about are indeed resident in our territory. There are four of them: one adult male, two adult females, and one female infant. As of the date of this letter, they inhabit a house near Todi.

It would be an honor to deliver these humans to you as a gift. Or, should you prefer, we will dispose of them in the manner you request and provide you with the remains.

If these possibilities are not to your liking, you have our permission to enter Umbria in order to hunt them. Please do us the kindness of notifying us in advance of your visit, as we would like to welcome you in a manner that befits a person of your rank.

I would like nothing more than to entertain you, should you be able to spare a few days. I remember your previous visit with much pleasure.

I remain,

Your loyal ally,

Simonetta,

Princess of Umbria

William tossed the inked parchment on his desk.

His situation had grown a good deal more complicated since he’d written to Simonetta, requesting permission to hunt Gabriel Emerson in her territory.

He hadn’t forgotten him. But he knew the laws concerning illegal incursions and was not about to risk a war with one of his most important allies over a common thief.

Now that he had Simonetta’s permission, he could go quickly, kill Emerson, and return to his own principality in a single evening. But he would not leave his city while it was infested with hunters.

Nor would he leave Raven now that he’d known the pleasure of her mouth.

Her mouth.

His plan to take her as a lover had gone awry. While it was true he hadn’t loved anyone in centuries, he felt something for her, and the feeling was beginning to deepen. He’d hoped they’d be able to explore their mutual attraction and that something between them would blossom and grow.

He’d been sorely mistaken.

Her horror at his proposal and her subsequent offering of herself in exchange for a favor had more than surprised him. He knew himself to be far from noble, but he prided himself in doing the noble thing, just this once.

He’d released her.

But he had no intention of abandoning his plan to seduce her. In fact, his desire for her had increased exponentially.

When he finally had her in his bed . . .

William restrained himself from fantasizing. He needed to clear his mind through meditation and rest while the sun shone. Or at least until it was almost sunset; then he could climb the Duomo and enjoy the view of his city.

It was true that he could walk in direct sunlight, but he found it uncomfortable. Like all vampyres, he needed to rest during the day and clear his mind.

There was a suspicion among his kind that madness descended on those who did not adequately and regularly clear their minds—something about the weight of immortality causing rationality to fail. If there was one thing William needed as prince, it was rationality.

Hunters plagued his city. They’d evaded the search party and murdered two younglings over by Santa Maria Novella Station, draining their blood and dumping their decapitated bodies on the train tracks.

As was their custom, the hunters had taken the heads. If a vampyre head was left in proximity to its body, the two pieces tended to go back together, reanimating the vampyre. Hunters knew that they could fetch a higher price for vampyre blood if it was sold with the head, proving authenticity.

William shuddered to think what the hunters would do to Raven, should they become aware of her. Which was why on a hunting party a few hours before, with Aoibhe and the others, he’d made sure to mention that Raven was safely ensconced in his villa, awaiting him in his bed.

He hoped he’d been believed.

Chapter Thirty-four

Raven stood in her bedroom early Monday morning, staring at her new cane.

It had made an innocuous appearance when she’d arrived home after Ambrogio’s visit. On this morning, she stared at it with utter hatred.

Most of the changes in her appearance had been reversed. Her disability had returned almost completely. Her weight had increased so she was, perhaps, a size smaller than she’d been. No one who saw her now would think she’d undergone a miraculous change.

She was angry with herself for enjoying her brief experience of beauty and for mourning its departure. She’d never thought of herself as shallow; she thought of herself as stoic. Clearly she didn’t know herself as well as she thought.

She was also angry with herself for hating her disability. No sooner had she limped out of bed that morning than she’d begun thinking of asking William to give her vampyre blood to heal her leg.

Her willingness to entertain the idea upset her greatly.

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