Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(18)

Raphael’s hand that had been on the lock was suddenly traveling up Maria’s arm, until it wrapped around a section of her hair. Maria noticed string wrapped around his right index finger, his fingertip turning blue through lack of blood. Her hands automatically clasped around Raphael’s back. Her feet were unsteady, and she feared her legs would buckle as fear threatened to take control. Maria had no idea how to seduce this man in return. But the minute her palms pressed against the fine material of his black shirt, her fingers feeling the hard, pronounced muscles that flexed underneath, Raphael hissed in her ear. His hands fisted tighter in her thick hair, pulling at the scalp. “You’re perfect,” he said slowly. “So goddamn perfect.” Maria could almost fool herself that he meant every word. He was staring at her the way Catholic congregations marveled at the Sistine Chapel, the way Mother Superior admired the statue of Mary in the chapel. But it was a ruse. It had to be. Seduction was part of his plan.

Maria met Raphael’s eyes and tried to read what malevolence lay underneath. But she knew it was pointless. She would never understand evil. Never understand the desire to hurt another soul. She wanted to take his hands in hers and beg him to stop, to repent and leave this way of life.

But she trusted Father Quinn. He had told her the church would see that Raphael was brought to the law via the proper channels. They would help him, save him. Fathers Quinn and Murray were good and honest men.

Raphael’s hands were gentle, the softest of touches. Bringing his hands to her face, he ran a finger down her cheek. He guided her head to the left and pushed her hair aside. He was baring her neck. Maria’s heart raced. “How do you like to play?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the finger that now traveled down her neck and to the collar of her dress. “What are your preferences?” Father Murray had warned her about this question. A contract had been forged for her to get the exclusive membership card. In it, she had given consent to anything that occurred in the club. This wasn’t a tame place, and Father Quinn had warned her that she must do whatever it took to bring Raphael into the arms of the church once more. She had no idea what sexual practices would appeal to Raphael. She had to let him take the lead.

“Whatever you want . . . sir,” she whispered back, not daring to move.

Raphael stepped back and hissed, scanning Maria’s face. “A submissive?” His smile widened, and she saw excitement light up his face. “My lucky night.” His teeth raked over his full bottom lip. Maria didn’t really understand what a submissive was. But she could guess from the word—compliant, completely obedient. “I like control. I like to watch and touch and have you writhing under my hands.” His mouth went to her ear. “Before I fuck you and break you.” Maria listened to his slow, shuddering inhale. “I love to watch the break.”

The blood drained from Maria’s face. I love to watch the break.

The softness that Raphael had been exhibiting disappeared in a second. A mask of superiority possessed his face. “Take off your dress.”

Maria’s eyes widened, and she became breathless at such a sternly given order. Raphael folded his arms over his chest, waiting, his golden eyes frosting over with authority. Maria felt light-headed at being spoken to in such a way.

“I’m waiting. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Maria jumped at Raphael’s harsh tone. She began to nervously pull the arms of her dress down. Raphael just watched, unmoving, eyes so focused he barely blinked. He kept his expression neutral. She had no idea what he was thinking.

Maria glanced at the floor. “Look up.” Maria did immediately. “Don’t take your eyes off mine. You’ll always look at me.” Raphael let a ghost of a smirk tug on his upper lip. “Or you’ll be punished.”

Maria swallowed, and she felt heat wash over her skin. Confusion took her in its hold. Maria wasn’t sure if the warmth on her skin was from fear, or worse . . . pleasure.

No, she thought. It was just the reaction of her innate obedience. She didn’t like to displease anyone. She didn’t ever rebel. She found comfort in following orders, in not having to make decisions. She found comfort in numbness.

Maria was good at following orders. It was all she had ever done. She had given her free will over to the church. The church and, right now, Raphael.

She would see this moment like that. In this moment, Raphael was her church.

Taking a steadying breath, Maria wondered what Raphael’s take on punishment would be. As she freed her right arm from the long sleeve, she wondered if she could draw this out long enough for Fathers Quinn and Murray to come looking for her. As she refocused on Raphael’s intense, hungry gaze, she doubted whether they could take him if they did. Raphael was in perfect condition. He was strong, domineering, and Maria was convinced he would handle himself just fine if attacked. Fathers Murray and Quinn were gentle and kind, men of God. They would be no match for Raphael.

“Stop stalling. And pull down the other arm.” Chills scuttered down her spine at his harsh command. It wasn’t from pleasure, she reminded herself. She had told Raphael she would do whatever he wanted. This instinct to obey him was purely survival.

Compared to the hedonistic sights in the main floor of the club, this seemed tame. At least it was right now. Maria knew it would get worse. Much worse. Raphael held that promise in his golden gaze. The frighteningly obscure devices and contraptions in the room only cemented that truth.