The Raven (The Florentine #1)(116)

Her climax heightened, doubled, ascended out of her control.

He continued moving inside her, his pace quickening, his strokes lengthening.

She was still orgasming, the experience absolutely overwhelming.

Within five strokes, he released her neck, laving the wound with his cool tongue.

Their eyes met and Raven saw him lick his lips. His eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight as his strokes quickened, stretching her further.

With a growl, he pushed inside her and she felt a dull coolness fill her. A short time later he collapsed, burying his face in her throat.

Chapter Forty-seven

Raven floated on a cloud, accompanied by heavenly voices. She didn’t know how long she lay, naked and wrapped in William’s arms.

She felt dreamy and strange, as if she were drunk.

William stroked a finger up and down her spine, his face an expression of peace.

“I understand what you mean now.” She nestled against his bare chest.

“About what?”

“About addiction. I want to have sex with you again and let you feed from me.”

He chuckled and drew her closer. “Me, as well. But I can only take so much blood from you within a certain time. We’ll have to wait and see how your body reacts.”

“Is it safe?”

He kissed her forehead, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone.

“Raven, nothing about me is safe. But I can say that I will do all in my power to give you nothing but pleasure.”

She burrowed into his chest, blissfully happy.

“In fact, when the city is free of hunters, I’d like to take you on my motorcyle for a ride into the countryside.”

She laughed, a giddy sound.

“I’m not sure I can survive that. The last time you had me on your motorcycle, I was sick.”

“This will be much more enjoyable, I assure you.”

Another embrace, another caress, and he was helping her dress.

When her legs were too unsteady to carry her, he swept her into his arms, pausing to kiss her with every few steps.

They walked down the hall toward the dance floor, Raven gazing up at him in wonder.

She felt cherished. She felt happy.

She felt connected to him by a bond that was far more than just sex.

The experience had been nothing like she’d ever known. It seemed as if, with his mouth at her neck, she’d had a second, heightened orgasm, simultaneous with the first. Even now, she felt boundless satisfaction, the euphoria thrumming through her veins.

It had been a strange and wonderful experience. She couldn’t wait to repeat it.

Just then, William stopped.

He rumbled and bared his teeth.

“Ah, so you’ve finally finished. I didn’t want to interrupt, though I was sorely tempted.” A woman’s voice called from inside the main room.

Raven turned her head and saw the female vampyre, clad in a Renaissance-style gown of midnight blue velvet, sitting on one of the banquettes. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her shoulders, her face pale and perfect, her eyes sparkling.

She took a drink from a strange-looking glass.

“Aoibhe.” William’s tone was commanding. “Teatro is closed.”

“I came to see what might prompt the Prince to break curfew.” She nodded in Raven’s direction. “I see I’ve found the answer. You smell of sex. Shall we share a drink?”

William’s grip on Raven tightened.

“There are hunters about. Be vigilant when you leave.”

Aoibhe put her glass on the table in front of her.

“If you’ve finished with your pet, send her home. We can enjoy the hours until sunrise. I think I left my chemise in your bedroom the other day. I’d like to retrieve it.”

William muttered a curse.

Raven’s mind moved slowly, but move it did. She’d heard Aoibhe’s casual, offhand remark.

She remembered (albeit dimly) William dismissing Aoibhe as simply an ally. Everything about the female vampyre’s tone and body language indicated her relationship with the Prince was far more intimate.

Raven put her hand over her eyes, as if she could blot out the sight.

“I see your pet understands English.” Aoibhe noted Raven’s reaction. “I must have said something that upset her. Her heart rate spiked.”

Without a word, William crossed to the bar, gently placing Raven on a chair. He picked up a telephone, pressed a few buttons, and hung up.

All the while, Raven tried to make sense of what was happening, her mind struggling as if it were walking through mud.

“Did your pet leave this behind?” Aoibhe bent to pick up Raven’s cane. “You surprise me, my lord, wasting yourself on a cripple. You could have anyone you wanted. And I do mean anyone.”

“I am not a cripple.” Raven’s voice, defiant and steely, surprised even herself. She glared in Aoibhe’s direction.

Swiftly, William moved to stand between the two females. He kept his eyes on the vampyre, but spoke over his shoulder.

“Marco is coming. We’re leaving.”

He’d barely pronounced the last word when Aoibhe threw the cane like a javelin, aiming for Raven’s head.

William caught it.

Raven hadn’t even seen him move. It was as if he’d plucked the cane out of the air like a magician pulls a rabbit from a hat.