Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(59)

She took a deep breath. “I knew I was going to die. I knew I was going to die in the darkness of the metal coffin, and no one would ever miss me. My family had been killed, all so he could take me and strip me of my flesh. I had no one left to love me if I escaped. It was futile.” Maria felt a stirring in her stomach, the familiar flicker of strength she had managed to muster that fateful day. The fight. The will to survive despite it all. “I was never a religious person. We didn’t attend church. My parents were more new age than organized religion. But as I lay there, I prayed to God that if He would just free me, I would dedicate my life to Him.

“I was delirious, speaking to a deity I had never entertained before. I was close to death’s door when I heard people rushing into the room. Many voices that I was sure I was imagining. I heard my name being called.” Maria smiled through her pain. “I thought I had died and I had arrived in heaven and the voice I could hear was my mother, welcoming me home.” Maria’s voice cut out, and it took her a few minutes to gain it back. Clearing her throat, she said, “The lid of the coffin was lifted, flooding me with light. The brightest light I had ever seen. The sound of a gun fired in the distance. Gentle hands lifted me from the coffin. Hands that weren’t those of William Bridge, but of a man in navy blue. A man who whispered to me that I was safe. That they had found me. That I was going to be okay.” Maria closed her eyes and lifted her face to the ceiling, as if she were back in the brightness of that day. “But all I could see was the light shining down on me like it was a spotlight and its beam was cast directly on me.” Maria smiled. “It was God, I knew it. He had listened to my prayer. He had saved me in my darkest time. And I knew it was for a reason. I just didn’t know what that reason was.” Maria’s eyes rolled open, and her mind was clear. But I do now.

“I was the only one who survived,” she said and felt the weight in her chest she had lived with for years. “Seven girls were in his house, all in coffins.” Guilt flooded her veins. Guilt she had never been able to shed. “I was the only one they had found alive. All of us had been stripped of skin and starved. But I still breathed. My heart still beat. They had killed William Bridge when he tried to fire at the officers who found us. Our captor was dead . . . and I was the only one who was freed.”

Maria felt the cold air wrap around her exposed, naked body. Raphael didn’t speak. Her heart plummeted. She’d hoped he would have taken solace, some comfort, from the fact that she too wore scars that had been inflicted upon her. That she too was damaged, arguably beyond repair. She thought he might have understood . . .

Maria’s head hung in disappointment. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she was about to turn when she suddenly stilled, feeling soft lips pressing a whisper of a kiss against one of her scars. Maria froze, her eyes filling with tears as she felt Raphael’s hands take hold of her hips with the gentlest touch she had ever received. She held her breath as he kissed along every strip that had been torn from her flesh. Every deep-red, thick scar she knew he was seeing—ones she had never seen herself.

Maria stayed where she was as Raphael worshipped her ruined skin like a pilgrim at her altar. The gentle touch began to eradicate all the frayed memories and feelings from her mind and heart. The night was silent and the moon basked them in its glow. Maria felt as though they were on a stage, two scarred souls finding one another in the unlikeliest of settings, something strong and unyielding pushing them together, each easing the other of their terrors and pains.

Maria’s eyes closed as Raphael’s hands traveled up her sides, over her ribs, and back down. Caressing her with such warmth it made her heart skip a beat. She felt him rise to his feet. He had been crouching down to her ruined flesh. Revering, worshipping . . . adoring.

His hands on her arms, Raphael turned Maria to face him. She kept her eyes down. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head. When she met his eyes, they had lost their coldness, and in its place was an amber glow. He was so tall and imposing. Yet she had never felt so safe.

Raphael leaned forward and timidly lowered his mouth to hers, hovering just over her waiting lips. His eyes met hers, searching for something she didn’t understand. Then, unsurely, he pressed his mouth over hers, and Maria felt as though she were back in the path of the sun, being blinded by the deepest form of grace. Warmth spread along her bones and limbs; peace infused her blood and pumped through her frail heart, reviving it with something akin to contentedness.

When Raphael pulled back, he reached down and lifted Maria’s naked body against his own. She placed her hands on his thick shoulders and kept his gaze as he walked them to the bed. He laid her down on the soft mattress and climbed over her body, blanketing her, keeping her safe. Maria’s hands never left Raphael’s skin. Her fingers journeyed over his scarred flesh and tattoos. They threaded under his arms and caressed his back. Raphael’s eyes closed as she worshipped him in return, touching the wounds that traveled deeper than his flesh.

Raphael tilted Maria’s face up by her chin, and he stared into her eyes. He kissed her again. She moaned as his tongue slipped into her mouth. Maria wrapped her legs around Raphael’s waist, arching her back when his hand slipped between them and ran along her core. His familiar fingers caressed and massaged her until she broke from the kiss just to catch her lost breath. Raphael kissed along her neck, her throat, and over her cheeks. His mouth never broke from her, even when she felt his length grow hard and heard him hiss with the pain his caged device would be bringing. Raphael pushed a finger inside her, and Maria cried out softly, her whimper more of a sigh. She didn’t overthink what was happening. She just felt. In five years she had kept what had happened to herself and only herself. With Raphael, she had opened a door she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to re-close. Wasn’t sure she even wanted to.