Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(41)

“Yes,” Maria whispered and averted her eyes once more. Her heart kicked into a sprint when her gaze fell upon his hardness, his sizable length pushing against the fabric of his pants. She inhaled a shaky breath. Her sexual inexperience was never more obvious than in that moment.

“Yes what?” Raphael’s voice was harder than before, an aggressive edge to his deep tone. Maria felt a trail of fire race down her spine to the tops of her thighs.

“Yes, my lord,” she quickly amended.

Raphael froze, then brought his mouth to Maria’s ear. “My lord . . . that’s not what I told you to say, little rose, was it?” Maria panicked at her mistake, but before she could beg for forgiveness, Raphael let out a stuttered breath. “But I like that better. My lord. Your ruler, your savior. Your world.” Raphael traced the tip of his bound finger along Maria’s bottom lip. Her pulse fluttered in response. “Say it again.”

“My lord,” she whispered, Raphael’s deep inhale catching at her words.

“Good girl,” he said. “Doesn’t that sound perfect coming from your pretty little lips?”

“Yes, my lord,” she repeated. Raphael’s skin glistened with sweat, his muscles twitching with every obedient word she spoke.

“You won’t do anything without my permission, little Maria. And I won’t ask you anything twice. You’ll listen at all times. If I must repeat myself, there’ll be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Raphael smiled a blinding smile, pleased. He loosened the string from around his finger, the cords in his neck disappearing along with his strained voice. “If we do anything you don’t want, you’ll simply say ‘red rose.’ And I will stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Raphael stood and circled her on the chair. Maria wondered what he was doing, until she felt a brush combing through her hair. “Each day after you’ve eaten breakfast, you will shower. You will wash your hair, wear one of the dresses provided. Then you will sit on this chair and wait for me. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I will take care of you, little rose. I will brush out your hair, dry it, and dress it prettily with a rose.”

Maria hid her bewilderment at why he would want to do such a thing. Why he would bother to care. But she kept silent. She hadn’t been given permission to speak.

Raphael brushed her hair until all of the knots and tangles had been freed. Maria stilled when he began to hum, a soft melodic tune that sank into the very marrow of her bones. As the brush smoothed out her tresses, Maria’s stomach fell. She recognized the song he hummed quietly to himself. It sounded so natural coming from his lips she wasn’t sure he was even conscious he was doing it.

“Ring a-round the Roses.” The tune Raphael hummed was “Ring a-round the Roses.” The childhood song simultaneously filled her with both sympathy and dread. Sympathy for the man who hummed a nursery rhyme so sadly it made tears prick in her eyes. And dread for what the nursery rhyme was about.

Death.

He was humming a child’s song about death.

Clearly not seeing her distress, Raphael lowered the brush then he came before her and guided her to stand. “But it’s late tonight and you’ve had a long day.” Relief flooded through Maria, yet an odd niggling at the back of her brain made her frown. She was relieved. She was exhausted. And she was overwhelmed with the thought of what lay before her. But, despite all of that, there was a part of her that seemed to be disappointed.

Maria put that down to her need to help this man. Help him fight the darkness inside.

Raphael led her to her room. He stopped at the door and brought her hand to his mouth. Never taking his eyes from her, Raphael brushed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Sleep, little rose.” Raphael turned away. But he then placed his hand on the door. “These stay open. Don’t you dare close them. I want to be able to see you at all times.”

He looked at her expectantly.

“Yes, my lord.”

Raphael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sleep well, little rose.”

Maria moved to the bed and pulled back the comforter. She turned the lamp off. But from her bed, she could see Raphael in the main room walking around, heard him locking the main door so she couldn’t escape again. She watched him move to his bed, remove his pants, and climb into bed. The almost-darkness prevented her from seeing his most intimate parts, but she was breathless knowing he lay bare just across the room.

Sleep didn’t find Maria easily. She felt as though she had just closed her eyes when she was awoken by a pained roar. Maria froze, immediate fear keeping her paralyzed. But moans and shouts of “No” drifted in from the main room.

Raphael.

Forcing herself to move, Maria sat up and peered into the main room. Raphael was clutching at the black sheets of his bed with tight fists, thrashing from side to side as though something were pinning him down, hurting him. Maria threw back her comforter and tiptoed to the edge of her room. Her hands braced on the doorframe, and she ignored the trembling that was threatening to take control of her body.

Maria’s eyes strained in the almost-darkness. She caught Raphael’s shadow thrashing and calling out muffled, untellable cries of pain. The scared edges to his voice struck her heart like an arrow, shredding it apart. Raphael’s pain was evident in his voice. His hoarse cries were a physical representation of what pain pulsed and tortured him inside. Maria silently crossed the room and peered over to where he slept. Her heart was a thunderstorm in her chest as she looked at his face. Tears. Tears were tumbling down his cheeks. His beautiful face wore a grimace, teeth clenched and neck corded with tension.