Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(91)

He would not fail. As the bread and blood passed down his throat, he felt her sin fill his already damned soul . . .

He would not fail.





Chapter Sixteen


Maria gasped, her eyes slamming open and a familiar sight greeting her. Her heart was racing in a heady rhythm as her gaze clashed with the golden stare she had come to adore. She looked down; in her hands was a bouquet of white roses.

She was in the coffin.

She was lying in the coffin, but—

“I’m alive,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from where Raphael had choked her with her hair. He had choked her. She had watched the pleasure on his face as he had wrapped her hair around her neck and made love to her so sweetly as he drained her life.

Raphael was watching her. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. No, not bright. They were shining with . . . tears . . .

A lump clogged her throat. “I’m alive,” she whispered again. She moved her legs just to be sure she still could. Raphael leaned over the coffin and ran his finger down her cheek. Maria’s eyes closed at the soft feel. “I’m still alive,” she repeated and felt her chest lighten.

When she opened her eyes, Raphael lifted her from the coffin, the white roses she was holding falling to the silk beneath her. Maria watched the bouquet drop, the symbol of death no longer in her hands.

Raphael laid her on the bed and climbed over her. Placing his hands on her face, he crashed his mouth to hers. When he drew back, he said, “You’re mine. You’re mine, and you’re never leaving me. Ever.” His jaw was clenched as his eyes locked on hers. “You’ll be with me every day and never leave my side. You’ll live with me. You’ll bathe with me. We’ll fuck and we’ll never part.”

Despite his harshly spoken words, Maria felt the shaking of his hands on her face, heard the tremor of fear in his voice. She cupped his cheeks, then moved one of her hands to lie over his heart. “I love you too, my lord.” Raphael stilled, and his eyes flared. “I love you with my whole heart . . . my Raphael.”

Raphael exhaled a quick breath, and he kissed her again. His hands tangled in her hair. When he pulled away, Maria’s lips felt bruised. She pushed a falling strand of his messy hair from his forehead. “You didn’t kill me.”

Raphael glanced away, then put his hand on his chest. His forehead pulled down. He appeared confused. “When you were dying . . . when your eyes closed, I knew I would never hear your voice again.” He swallowed, and Maria held her breath. He took her hand in his and stared at their entwined fingers. “When I knew I wouldn’t feel you holding my hand, or sleeping beside me, hand on my chest, or have you in the bath with me, or in the rose garden—”

“Shh,” Maria soothed when his breathing became erratic.

Raphael sighed. “I wanted you to live.” Maria’s heart expanded in her chest, so big that it ached. “I wanted you beside me, alive. Kissing me, holding me . . . I need to fuck you, to wash and dry your hair.”

Maria laughed with happiness, and tears began to track down her cheeks. Raphael wiped the tears from her face. “Why are you crying?”

“Why are you?” she asked, smoothing a single tear from his cheek. Raphael reached for his cheek and looked at the teardrop in confusion.

She loved him. Maria loved Raphael more than she could ever have believed possible. Her bones ached with the need for this man, this incredibly lost and broken man . . . the man who had captured her heart and made it his own, his possession.

And she had his.

“You’re never leaving me,” he said.

Maria felt the order clamp around her heart, anchoring it to his soul. Holding his hand as tightly as she could, she replied, “Yes, my lord.” Raphael awarded her submission with the most blinding smile he had ever given her, which lit her body like a firework on the fourth of July.

“My little rose.” He ran his nose down her cheek and tucked his head into her neck. Lifting his head, he said, “You can’t ever die. I won’t allow it.”

Maria laughed, and kissed the man she loved. As they kissed and Raphael slipped inside her, no cage to cause him pain, she knew she was home. Maria knew, beyond all doubt, that she was saved five years ago to be here with Raphael. To heal his heart with love and walk by his side.

She wasn’t na?ve. She knew he would still kill. She knew that was what he needed and who he was. But sex and death would no longer be intertwined. So she would love him. She would love him as no one had ever loved another before.

She would be the saint to his sinner.

The light to his dark.

The chastity to his lust.

But most importantly, she would love him and he would love her. They would heal the fissures of pain in their hearts.

And they would never let each other go.

*****

Maria knocked on the door to Gabriel’s punishment room. Raphael slept, exhausted by the day. Maria would join him soon, but there was something else she needed to do. She opened the door to see Gabriel huddled by the fire, blood spattered around him as he lay in a fetal position on the stone floor.

Gabriel hadn’t heard her. His naked body was covered in lash marks and blood. Cilices were tight around his thighs, the muscles around the blades twitching. Maria spotted his robe on a hook, so she took it and laid it over him. As the fabric touched his body, Gabriel jerked his eyes open. Pained blue eyes locked on Maria. Unfocused at first, he blinked, and his face turned paler than it already was. “Maria,” he said hoarsely, and his eyes squeezed together in pain. “You’ve come to haunt me. To taunt me for my sin.” Gabriel’s tears tracked through the sweat and blood stains on his cheeks. “Your spirit has come to plague me for letting you die.”