Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(15)

Maria heard the music from inside pulsing against the walls. She clutched her purse tightly. Maria had never been to a club before. Before she was taken by William Bridge she had been too young. When she was freed, she pledged herself to the church. Maria was sheltered in a way most twenty-one-year-olds were not. Normally, she was thankful. Right now, she wished she had some prior knowledge of what she was walking into.

Ignoring her shaking hand, Maria opened the door to the club and almost stumbled at the sight that greeted her. She froze on seeing a woman tied to a wooden stake in the center of the room, bound by leather straps and metal chains. She was naked but for a strip of black material in her mouth . . . and there was a man, dressed in a three-piece suit, flogging her with a thin leather strap. Even over the blasting music, Maria heard the strap lashing, marring the woman’s skin. There was even blood. But what disturbed Maria more was the look of ecstasy on her face.

Maria could barely breathe. There wasn’t a part of her that was functioning as it should. Her breathing and heartbeat were too quick. Her eyes were too wide and her mouth was dry in shock.

What was this place? Maria wanted to run. The sights and sounds were too much. They were too much like the ranch . . . William’s ranch. But these women were here by choice, wanted to be degraded and hurt and sexually used by choice. She felt as if she had walked into an alternative world, one where nothing made sense and sin, violence, and lust were the norm.

Then Maria’s eyes dropped to the woman’s legs, and all of the blood rushed from her face. Inserted inside her was a toy that resembled a man’s private parts. But that wasn’t what horrified Maria the most. It was the fact that the toy was spiked. Maria’s thighs tensed at merely the sight, as though she could defend the woman from the frightening device. Maria prayed for the woman’s sake that those spikes were rubber and not metal as they appeared. But by the screams and shouts traveling from every corner of the room, Maria couldn’t be sure.

Maria’s body grew colder as she forced herself to move. Men and women stopped to watch her as she moved past, hands reaching out and stroking her bare legs, over her dress, along her breasts. Maria fought back tears as others tried to reach between her legs, pushing themselves on her in ways she could barely stand. She shivered, cold wrapping around her as memories she never wanted to relive sprang into her mind.

Darkness . . . pain . . . despair . . . weakness . . . giving up, I’m giving up . . . no one is coming to help me . . . please . . . please God, please save me . . .

“You want a drink?” A voice pulled Maria from her dark memories. A barman was looking her way.

“Just a water, please,” she said and took a seat at the bar. She placed her purse beside her and, naturally, her hands began playing with her hair. Maria took a large drink of the water when it landed on the bar, and forced herself to look around the club. The sights were too overwhelming, but she kept searching the crowd, looking for the man she was sent to capture. The quicker she found him, the quicker she could return home. In the purse lay a small syringe, one that was filled with a liquid that would render Raphael unconscious. It was only there for if she found herself in the position to get him alone in a private room. Father Quinn and Father Murray didn’t emphasize that expectation too badly, but she knew it was what they prayed for.

She had to do it.

Almost on cue, a man came through the doorway. Maria stilled, her glass halfway to her mouth. He was dressed in a black fitted shirt and black slacks and walked like a god through the club. His confidence leaked from his every pore. Maria’s heart kicked into a sprint when she noticed the olive hue of his skin, the dark hair that fell over his forehead and dropped over his eyes. From this distance, Maria couldn’t see the color of them. The man was looking to his left, away from where she sat. But his lean build, his solid frame—well over six feet tall—fit the description she had been sent with.

He was beauty personified.

Maria was motionless as she watched him cross the club to a woman who waited at the opposite bar. She had blond hair and wore a dress that showed every inch of her figure and what little she wore underneath—a barely-there bra and panties that revealed her shapely behind. In all her life, she had never seen such clothes.

Maria placed her empty glass on the bar and nervously played with her hair. She watched as the blond woman reached out and stroked the man’s wide chest. His top few buttons were undone, revealing the start of a tattoo Maria couldn’t decipher. She raked through her thick dark-blond strands, waiting for the man to look her way. The man lifted his head, and a smile so stunning it was blinding formed on his lips as he threw his head back and laughed. The entire club seemed to fade away as she focused on the man.

And then he looked her way . . . Golden eyes latched onto her. Maria was starved of breath as light-brown—golden-hued—eyes set right on her, on the movement of her hand in her hair. Scrambling to remember what Father Quinn had told her, Maria tipped her head, casually baring her neck. Closing her eyes, she began stroking her hand up and down the fine bones that lay underneath her fair skin. Her fingernails tickled, and goosebumps spread along her spine. Maria pictured Sisters of Our Lady of Grace in her mind, knowing that once this was done she would return to her beloved monastery and never have to be in such a sinful den as this again. This was the last thing she must do to prove she was ready to take final vows.

Maria felt him before she saw him. The scent of fresh water and salt traveled up her nose. The smell was addictive. The steady beat of the music controlled her heartbeat, and, taking in a deep, freshwater-scented inhale, Maria let her eyes flutter open to the vast depravity of the club. Only Maria didn’t see the club, nor the patrons and the people screaming in carnal ecstasy as they were flogged and flayed. She only saw the most captivating face she’d ever seen, that sinfully beautiful face, and that mesmerizing golden stare that rendered her immobile.