Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(69)

Maria’s heart was beating fast beneath his hand. “Who was the man? Why did he kill her?”

Raphael frowned, trying to remember. “Her boyfriend? I didn’t have a father . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t think. I don’t know why he killed her. The priests never told me. I only remember bits.”

Maria searched his face. She swallowed. Raphael liked how her throat looked as she did. “My lord . . .” she said softly. “How many people have you killed?”

Raphael tried to think. He shrugged. “Many.”

Maria’s shoulders sagged. “Many . . .” she whispered.

Raphael stood and held out his hand. Maria threaded his hand through hers and he led her out of the bath. He didn’t bother with towels for them as he took her through the bedroom, through the small dining room and through the door to his private room. He flicked on the light. Maria gasped. Raphael let his gaze rove over his wall. The wall filled with the faces of his victims. Maria walked past him, and he watched her approach the wall. He felt his chest swell with pride. At the faces staring back at him, eyes wide open in death.

“Y-you . . . you killed all of these women?” Maria stuttered. “These pictures . . . they are all dead in them?”

“Just dead,” Raphael explained, recalling each one in vivid detail. “Their bodies were still warm.”

Maria reached out to touch the pictures, but pulled back her hand before she did. “Strangled?” she asked, tracing the red marks on their throats.

“All of them.” Raphael looked down at his hands and spread his fingers. He smiled.

When he lifted his head, he saw Maria had stopped dead in front of the wall. She turned to look at him. The blood had drained from her cheeks. “You killed her.” The picture was his most recent. “This woman, from the club.” Her hands shook. “When?”

Raphael licked his lips. His heart started to race at the way Maria was looking at him. In shock . . . disappointment? “Not long ago.”

“While I was here?” Her voice had dropped in tone. Her blue eyes began to shine. Raphael stilled. Was she going to cry? He didn’t like her crying. He couldn’t stand it. It fucked with his head.

“Yes.”

Maria stumbled back. Her back hit the far wall. “Did . . .” Maria met his eyes. “Did you have sex with her?”

Raphael curled his lip just remembering that night. “No.”

Maria went to turn her head again, then suddenly moved from the wall. “That night,” she whispered. “The night you couldn’t get hard.” Raphael’s jaw clenched. “The night I said those words. The safe words. Red rose.” Maria started shaking her head. “That was it, wasn’t it? When you left . . . you left to kill her. When you returned, you had scratch marks on your skin.”

“She was evil. She trafficked kids. She deserved to die.”

Maria ran her hands down her face. “All life is sacred.”

“It’s not,” he snarled, feeling his rage begin to build.

“It is!” Maria argued. Raphael raced across the room and took hold of her shoulders. He spun her around. “These women . . . These women raped kids, sold kids, whored them out for money.” Raphael couldn’t keep hold of his temper. He felt himself being forced to his knees, the priest’s hands across his chest, touching his cock, forcing him to the floor . . . Raphael hit his head to rid himself of the image. Maria stumbled away, but Raphael kept hitting his head. He needed the images from his fucking head. Images put there by people like the pieces of shit on his wall. By people who used kids, raped kids.

Fucked them, fucked them, fucked them! His hand was yanked away, and he moved. He pushed the person against the wall, ready to kill. “My lord, it’s me.” But he was lost to the red mist of rage. “Raphael.” A soft voice cut through his head, which was trapped in the torture room, being pinned to the floor by the priest. “Come back to me,” the voice whispered. “Come back to me.”

Raphael blinked, his chest heaving, and the room around him shimmered and his vision cleared. He was home. In the manor . . . and there was Maria. Maria before him, blue eyes shining with tears. Her hand slowly came to his cheek. “You’re here with me.” Raphael’s muscles twitched in exertion. “I’m here.” Raphael followed the rising and falling of Maria’s controlled breaths. She stepped closer to him, closer and closer until her chest was flush against his.

He groaned at her warmth. At the way she numbed the stabbing memories in his head. Soothed the ache in his chest. “It’s okay . . . it’s okay.”

Raphael held her close, wrapping his arms around her back.

“I am a novitiate, Raphael.”

Raphael stood stock-still as he held Maria. He didn’t know what that was, but his rose sounded serious. He pulled back to look at her face, and Maria took hold of his hands. “Before I came here . . . I was training to be a nun. I was close to taking final vows.”

Raphael’s eyes flared, and blood soared through his tight muscles, bringing them to life. “Chaste,” he said, excitement mounting in his chest. “That’s why you were chaste. Pure.”

“Until I gave myself to you,” Maria said.

Raphael thought of her moaning his name. Thought of her pale skin and slim body. Thought of the customized coffin and how Maria would look flawless within it, sleeping for eternity, forever in Raphael’s room. His shrine caught his eye, and uncontained excitement built inside him. She was in his arms. The one.