“No escape,” he said angrily. “Now is time for sport.”
“There are beautiful women out there.” She gestured to the door. “Why don’t you leave us? We aren’t going anywhere.”
“Not yet. I’m going to enjoy you before I drain your heart. And then I’m going to dispose of your sister.”
Raven gritted her teeth. “Everything you could ever want is out there. You don’t want to waste your time with us.”
The vampyre stood next to the bed and leered at her from head to foot.
“Take off your clothes.”
“No.” Raven’s low voice had steel in it.
“I said, take off your clothes.” He pulled her from the bed, spinning her toward the wall.
“If the Prince is dead, then I don’t care about living.” Her voice was low but defiant. “I don’t care if you kill me. I’m not taking my clothes off.”
Max lifted his hand as if to strike her, then he squeezed her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him.
“Look into my eyes and focus on my voice. I am your master now.”
Something niggled in the back of Raven’s mind, something disturbing. At that moment, she couldn’t remember what it was.
An icy tendril of fear snaked down her spine. She stared back at the vampyre with contempt.
“No,” she repeated stubbornly.
Max’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He cursed and gripped her head with both hands. “I am your master. You will do as I say. Take off your clothes.”
Raven blinked. “No.”
He pushed her aside, rubbing a hand across his face where the skin was new. “Then I’ll take your sister first.”
He moved toward the bed.
“No!” Raven grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back. He shook her off and put a knee to the bed.
Cara lay motionless, eyes closed.
There was no way Raven was going to stand by while this animal touched her sister. She hadn’t done so when she was twelve and she wouldn’t do so now, not so long as she still had strength with which to fight.
Raven grabbed the vampyre around the waist. “No, please. Not her.”
He turned his head, his eyes cold and calculating.
“Then take your clothes off. Slowly. I want to savor this moment.
“I’m going to fornicate you until you can no longer walk, and then I’m going to drink you dry.”
Raven released him. She moved away from her sister, hoping he would follow.
He did so, watching in anticipation.
She screwed her eyes shut.
William, she thought, help me.
With trembling hands, she lifted the hem of her T-shirt.
Chapter Fifty
By the time William arrived at Raven’s apartment building, the police had already cordoned it off.
Ispettor Batelli was visible smoking a cigarette just outside the front door. Two emergency medical technicians walked past him, carrying a black body bag on a stretcher.
Anxiety rolled over William as the scent of death filled his nostrils. But the dead human being was male, not female, and certainly not Raven.
Hope lived.
From his vantage point atop her roof, he could see another set of medical personnel hovering over two bodies that were lying behind the building. He recognized Marco’s scent and that of Luka. With that recognition came the chilling realization that whoever had attacked them had probably done so in an effort to steal Raven.
Fortunately, there was no sign of her body.
Not caring if he was seen leaping to the building next door, he flew across the gap and ran to the edge of the roof. Some distance away he could see his Mercedes, abandoned on a side street. Policemen were moving in and out of the vehicle, placing items in bags.
A gust of wind lifted from the street below and with it, a hundred different scents. He shut his eyes and discerned the remnants of blood, including the blood of a young female. Her scent was unfamiliar.
Commingled with that scent was the sweetest aroma he’d ever experienced—light, sensual, courageous, and beautiful.
He inhaled, savoring the fragrance, and began to cough violently. The stench of a vampyre scoured his nostrils, blotting out Raven’s scent. The vampyre odor was all too familiar.
Maximilian.
He had returned.
William resisted the urge to give in to fury or to haste, forcing himself to set aside the stench and focus only on Raven. His heart sank when he realized that Max must have extricated her from the Mercedes, carrying her toward the Arno. Puzzlingly, the scent of the unknown female remained linked with the other two.
The scent was fresh—less than an hour old. But that was time enough for Max to have murdered Raven or to have transformed her into a vampyre.
A cry of anguish escaped William’s lips as he swung his fist heavenward.
I’ve lived for centuries and cursed the empty years. Now I have no time.
William ran as fast as he could across the roofs, tracking the scent from building to building before dropping to the street in order to cross the river.
He climbed a building near the Ponte Santa Trinita in his pursuit, pausing atop a roof strewn with vampyre bodies. They were dressed in the uniform of the Florentine army, their swords discarded nearby. If this was one of his rival’s hunting parties, it had failed. No Consilium members were to be found among the dead.
And yet two familiar vampyre scents were discernible—one belonged to Aoibhe. And the other . . .
“I knew it.” A triumphant voice sounded beside him.
Aoibhe was standing a few feet away.