Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(71)

Diel’s blue eyes narrowed on Bara, and he shifted in his seat. Diel turned to Maria. “It won’t happen again. I’m calm.”

Maria gave Diel a tight smile. The staff brought the food through. When they each had a plate, Sela asked, “What do you do on the outside world, Maria?”

Sela’s eyes were on her body, roving over her arms and face. Raphael knew it wasn’t sexual. Sela was an artist. His obsession was body parts.

Maria placed down her fork. “I am a novitiate.” Her eyes flicked to Gabriel, then back to Sela. “I am training to be a nun.”

The air grew thick with tension. Uriel leaned forward, lips tight. “You know Father Quinn.”

“He’s my mentor.” Maria’s words were spoken with reservation. Raphael narrowed his eyes at her. Maria cleared her throat. “Father Quinn and Father Murray were the ones who sent me to find Raphael.”

Raphael froze. Every muscle in his body locked as Father Murray’s name circled his head. Anger boiled inside him. When Raphael looked up at the silent table, all of his brothers’ eyes were fixed on him. His chest pulled so tight he felt as if his skin would tear under his shirt.

Maria’s hand squeezed Raphael’s, but he couldn’t look away from the food on his plate to look at her. Rage was surging through his veins. He could immediately feel the floor of the torture room under his knees, Father Murray’s hand in his short hair, ripping it back until his neck ached. Stuffing his mouth with his cock, then pinning him down—

“I didn’t know . . .” Maria whispered, her voice shaking. “I didn’t know about the group they are a part of.” Her breathing hitched. “I don’t condone their behavior. Will never condone it.” Maria squeezed his hand again. When Raphael met her eyes, she was staring at him. Her face was pale, and there was a strange expression in her eyes. Raphael wanted to move from the table, fucking destroy anything in his path at the mention of that cunt’s name, the memory of what he did to him, but his chest filled with warmth the minute Maria’s gaze bored into his. A lump built in his throat. It was uncomfortable. Why did she make him feel such strange things?

“So,” Bara said, pulling Maria’s attention. Raphael’s redheaded brother smiled and gestured around the table with his wine glass. “You know who the Brethren cunts are and how they fuck young boys for fun.” Bara leaned forward. “But do you know what we do?”

Maria tilted her chin high. “I do.”

Diel’s blue gaze assessed her. “And?”

“I don’t judge,” she said plainly. Her gaze dropped for a second. “I was taken by a killer at sixteen. I was tortured, kept captive for months. I forgave him.”

“Tortured how?” Uriel asked.

Maria glanced at Raphael, then slowly stood. She lifted her long hair from her back and turned. The dress hung low. Raphael licked his lips as her back was bared. Sela quickly got to his feet. Raphael did too, standing in his brother’s way. Sela frowned and held up his hands. “I was just going to look.”

“Look from there,” Raphael said, backing closer to Maria. A wave of possessiveness took hold of him, braced him to protect her from anyone but himself.

Sela’s eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged and glanced over Raphael’s shoulder. His dark eyes flared. “Sloppy work.” He smiled when Maria dropped her hair and turned to face him. “I would’ve done a much better job.” Maria’s face paled, but she kept her head high. Raphael felt a rush of pride at her reaction to his brother.

Maria took her seat again. Raphael saw his brothers watching her with interest. He didn’t like their attention on her. He pushed his hand into her hair and pulled her close. Maria immediately folded into his side. He kissed her head, and she sighed, her body relaxing. His body began to relax too.

“A toast,” Bara said, and held up his glass. Raphael took his and held it up. Maria hesitated, but then did the same. “To Maria, our nun in a den of sinners.” Bara smiled at Gabriel. “Seems you have one of your kind present for once.” He shrugged. “The scales are balancing.” Gabriel nodded, smiling at Maria. Gabriel lifted his glass in Maria’s direction then drank his wine.

Just as Raphael placed his glass down, the door behind them opened. Michael walked through. His usually tense body was relaxed . . . but he was coated in blood. His chest, bared by the shirt that was open to his navel, was soaked. His neck, his face, his fanged teeth—all covered.

Michael sat down on the opposite side of the table. His ice-blue eyes met Maria’s, then Raphael’s.

“Michael,” Gabriel said. “Is it over?”

Michael licked his tongue over his bloodstained teeth. Maria’s breathing was suddenly heavy. Raphael looked down at her. Her gaze was fixed on Michael. Her wide eyes tracked the blood on his face, his chest, and his fingers, his pointed fingernails stained crimson.

“He’s dead.” Michael clutched at the vial of blood around his neck.

“And?” Sela asked. Raphael’s heart began to race, waiting for the information.

“He screamed. I tied him to the wall by his arms and legs and drained him of blood. I pierced him over and over and drank from each wound.” Michael’s tongue traced over his teeth again. He shrugged. “He tasted average. His blood didn’t sing to me.”