“I have the largest private collection of Renaissance art in the world. Much of it has never been restored. I’ll give you free rein to assess my collection and restore it. I’ll even build a lab for you, out there.” He pointed to the gardens that lay beyond the library windows.
“I’d live here as your personal art restorer?”
His lips twitched. “I’d have other, personal expectations of you.”
“Sex?” Her voice sounded higher than normal.
“Of course.”
“Why?”
He seemed surprised by her question.
He reached out to cup her face and his eyes grew soft. “Because you interest me. It has been many, many years since someone caught my attention.”
Raven couldn’t pretend she didn’t like his gentle voice or the way he touched her, as if he truly found her pleasing.
She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was lying or not. It was possible this was some tortured game and that she was merely a pawn in a greater contest.
His kiss the previous evening had felt sincere. But Raven had been deceived before, and so she didn’t trust her feelings.
She wished she were more used to a man’s attention. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be so affected. So vulnerable.
“Is sex the same for vampyres?” She pulled away from him.
His hand dropped to his side and he frowned. “The same as what?”
“The same as when you were human.”
“I couldn’t tell you,” he said coolly.
His demeanor didn’t invite interrogation and so she elected not to pursue the ambiguity in his statement.
But she made a mental note to ask about it later.
He ran his thumb across his lower lip. “When a vampyre feeds from a human, the urge to engage in intercourse is overwhelming. Sex and feeding go together, almost universally.”
Raven wrinkled her nose in revulsion.
“Do vampyres ever have sex with one another?”
“In some cases.”
“Do they feed from one another, too?”
“Sometimes, but vampyres need human blood in order to maintain their health.”
Raven decided to keep William’s attention fixed on answering questions, in order to give herself time to plan an escape. She tried to look curious.
“Why would a vampyre feed from another vampyre?”
“It bonds the two. There may be political or expedient reasons to forge that bond. The blood of an older vampyre can strengthen a younger one.”
“Are you bonded with anyone?”
“No.” He moved away from her abruptly. “I need to disclose that when a vampyre takes a human lover, the human becomes overwhelmed by the experience and develops an addiction to it. In some cases, the human begs to become a vampyre. In other cases, the vampyre gets carried away and kills the human.”
He paused, noting her reaction.
Her jaw had dropped open and she was gazing at him in horror.
He hastened to explain himself.
“You should know that I am what they call an old one—I’ve been a vampyre for centuries. I have more power than the others and I have much more control. I won’t be carried away when I drink from you. You’re safe with me.”
Raven laughed without amusement. “Safe? Nothing you have said so far makes me feel safe. And thanks for the invitation, but I’m not interested in having sex with you.”
William smiled a slow, sensuous smile. “You say one thing but your body says something else. Your heart rate escalates when I touch you and you hold your breath. Your pupils dilate and your skin warms. One might almost think you are aroused.”
Raven felt her cheeks flush.
“I can’t help biology.”
“Neither can I,” he retorted, coming nearer.
“Are all vampyres misogynists? I had no idea.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I am not a misogynist. In fact, I’m a great admirer of women. I’m simply stating what your body already recognizes—you are attracted to me.”
“Find another art restorer to snack on.”
He moved closer, his eyes fixed on hers. “You don’t know the pleasure I’m capable of giving you. There are those who would beg to become my lover, just for one night.”
Raven’s gaze dropped to his mouth.
He licked his lips.
She shook her head, as if trying to snap out of it.
“Then you should have no trouble finding a willing partner. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
He stepped in front of her. “In a few days, the two bloods I administered to you will disappear from your system and I’ll be able to enjoy your true vintage. I’ve been looking forward to sampling it for a while.”
“You’d drink my blood?”
He gave her a half smile.
“Vampyres tend to do that.”
“I’d rather die.”
“What?” His tone was harsh, if not incredulous.
“You stole the illustrations from the Uffizi and now you’ve kidnapped me. I don’t care what you are. I have no intention of staying with you as a sex slave or a fountain drink or anything else.”
He scowled. “You wouldn’t be a slave. You’d be royalty.”
“You said I’d be under your control.”
“I said that’s usual. You should know by now that you are far from usual. In fact, I think you’re strong-minded enough to maintain a degree of autonomy despite an intense sexual relationship with me.”
“A degree of autonomy isn’t freedom.”
“Being my lover is.” He reached out and traced her collarbones from shoulder to shoulder. “Freedom to enjoy the pleasure I’ll give you. Freedom to leave your cares behind and focus only on living a life of erotic delight.”
“That isn’t an inducement.” She set her teeth. “I’d rather kill myself than be touched against my will.”
William glared. “I am not a rapist.”
“So you say.”
“I saved you from being raped and I killed three men in order to do it,” he hissed.
“Maybe because you wanted to finish the job.”
“Cave,” he warned.
He was perilously close to losing his temper, but, through a visible effort, he restrained himself.
He clenched his jaw.
“You’d end your life, simply to avoid this?”
Raven lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“Do you know what happens to suicides after they die?”
She shrugged. “They go to sleep and never wake up.”