The Raven (The Florentine #1)(83)

She was angry with herself for enjoying her brief experience of beauty and for mourning its departure. She’d never thought of herself as shallow; she thought of herself as stoic. Clearly she didn’t know herself as well as she thought.

She was also angry with herself for hating her disability. No sooner had she limped out of bed that morning than she’d begun thinking of asking William to give her vampyre blood to heal her leg.

Her willingness to entertain the idea upset her greatly.

Her disability divided her from those who did not have visible disabilities. She knew this.

But in her view, all human beings were disabled in some sense—physically, socially, mentally, morally, etc. She thought that accepting the truth about oneself, and perhaps even coming to embrace it, was the correct way to deal with a disability, not denying it, hiding it, or, God forbid, trying to eradicate it from society.

So it was with scorn that she regarded herself in the bathroom mirror—her sad eyes and downcast expression. She was manifesting the same bigoted sadness she’d seen in others when they pitied her. She despised pity and its attendant low expectations.

Raven paused to note the fact that William had not pressed her to take blood.

He’d mentioned it, but seemed to leave it as her choice. He didn’t seem bothered by her disability. It was almost as if it escaped his attention most of the time. Maybe that was why she was strangely drawn to him, even more so after he’d released her and promised to help Bruno and Lidia.

She limped to the cane and gripped it as if it were a sword, swearing she would accept herself as she was and that she would no longer entertain any thought of healing. The cane itself, new and black, was far more functional than her old ones, especially the one that was still (artfully) sticking out of the wall.

She decided she liked it there and would not remove it.

While she wasn’t sure how she felt about William buying her a new wardrobe, she was grateful for the nice clothes. Lucia must have sorted the items and sent only the larger sizes, because most of them fit, including two pairs of designer jeans.

On this day, she wore a navy dress with matching cardigan and simple flat navy shoes. Obediently, she was wearing a scarf and the bracelet William had given her. She wondered if it had some historical connection to the city of Florence or if it was something he’d acquired during his long and mysterious life.

He’d become prince in the fourteenth century, but had mentioned something about losing hope in 1274. Raven didn’t have time to Google the date to see what was significant about it, but she intended to do so later.

She retrieved her new reading glasses from atop her bedside table. Her old ones had been in her knapsack the night of Gina’s party. She hadn’t been able to find them. Ambrogio must have known her prescription because he’d replaced them—and with smart Prada frames.

She tucked her glasses into their case and made her way to the kitchen table, where she retrieved her new iPhone. Ambrogio had left it for her in its box, with a note that indicated the information stored on her old phone had been transferred to it, along with contact information for himself, Lucia, and Luka.

William’s name and contact information were noticeably absent. From this, she surmised that vampyres didn’t carry cell phones.

(They probably used carrier pigeons.)

Unfortunately for Raven, all the photographs she’d taken of her changed appearance hadn’t been transferred to her new phone. She no longer had visual proof of the healing of her leg, since her old phone was missing.

The absence of photographs seemed intentional. Certainly she hadn’t done it. She wondered what William’s reasons were.

Perhaps he was protecting her. Perhaps he was protecting himself. He certainly wasn’t demanding she maintain her changed appearance. Maybe he truly was attracted to her ordinary self.

As promised, Luka was waiting for her downstairs. He was a large man, standing well over six feet, six inches and probably weighing about three hundred pounds. He was also spare with his words.

When he saw her, he walked in front of her to the door and escorted her to the Mercedes, which was parked around the corner.

During the short drive to the gallery, Raven fingered the scarf around her neck. It was covering William’s mark now. He’d left behind a love bite.

She tried not to think about how pleasurable it had been to be in William’s arms and how sensual it had felt to have him kiss her neck.

She sighed.

He hadn’t mentioned anything about seeing her again when he dropped her off. In return, she hadn’t named a day for their film night.

Her apartment had certainly seemed spartan and lonely next to his opulent villa.

Truly her life had taken a surprising turn when it was clear that her next most likely date would be with a vampyre prince.

“Are you all right?”

Patrick greeted Raven with concern as soon as she entered the office space she shared with several other people. Other colleagues filtered in, chatting at one another’s desks before starting the workday.

She hobbled to her workspace, leaning on her cane. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re using your cane again.”

Raven shrugged. “I guess the new treatment I was trying failed.”

“You didn’t mention anything about a treatment. I thought your leg improved on its own when you disappeared.”