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The Raven (The Florentine #1) Page 36
Author: Sylvain Reynard

The Prince clenched his teeth. “No.”

Adrenaline spiked in her system. He could smell it and hear the way her heart rate increased.

“He was a cannibal,” she managed to say.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“He saw me first. Why didn’t he attack?”

The Prince frowned. “I should have thought it would be obvious. It’s because of what you’re wearing around your neck.”

Raven removed the handkerchief from her forehead. “Bullshit.”

“Ignorance,” he rejoined, sounding cross. “You modern people live in your own version of the Dark Ages, dismissing anything you can’t understand. If the relic didn’t stop him, what the hell did?”

Raven shut her mouth abruptly, not knowing what to say.

The Prince relaxed his posture and lowered his voice. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hardly. You’re in danger and the danger is real. Tonight you watched a feral feed but you didn’t dissolve into hysterics.” His tone bore the merest hint of admiration. “I thought you lacked an appreciation for the true danger you are facing. Now I know that isn’t true. I’m beginning to think you may have courage.”

She shifted, picking up a pillow and hugging it to her chest.

“Why are you here?”

His smile faded.

“As I said, I came to see if you were all right.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” His tone cooled.

“Why do you keep cutting off my electricity?”

“Why don’t you do as you’re told and leave the city?” he snapped.

“You gave me two weeks. I was hoping you’d keep your word.”

“That was before a policeman was killed by a feral in front of your building. How dangerous do things have to be before you decide to leave?”

Now he’d lost his temper.

He turned his back on her and walked toward the door.

“It’s likely he was the same man who has been following you since yesterday, but I can’t say for sure.”

Raven hugged the pillow more tightly. “He saw the man yelling at me. He came to help.”

“Policemen tend to do that.” The Prince sniffed.

She pointed a contemptuous look in his general direction. “You don’t care, do you? You don’t care that he died trying to protect me.”

“No, I don’t. His protection was unnecessary. I was protecting you, through the relic.”

“Why?”

“Why, indeed?” he muttered to himself.

“There has to be a reason.” She turned toward the window, which was shuttered. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anything of value. What do you want?”

Several answers sprang to the Prince’s mind. But he was not about to entertain them. Or confess them.

He moved toward the bed and adopted a lighter tone.

“Perhaps I’m captivated by those green eyes of yours.”

Raven blinked in the darkness. “Now I know you’re lying. Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you really want?”

The Prince’s gaze focused on her so sharply, she almost felt it.

“I want you to leave the city.”

“You seem to know a lot about what goes on in Florence. Something happened to me last week. I lost my memory and—things changed.”

“I know that.” His voice was low.

“Tell me what happened.” She put the pillow aside and moved to the edge of the bed. “Please.”

He ground his teeth together. “No.”

“I have a right to know. You have to tell me.” Her expression twisted his insides.

“Promise me you’ll leave the city and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know.”

She sat back on her knees. “If I have the relic and it seems to work, why would I need to leave?”

“Are you mad?” he growled.

“Is the man who attacked the policeman the one who killed the others?”

The Prince froze. “What others?”

“La Nazione reported that several bodies were found downriver.”

His eyes narrowed. “When?”

“It was reported yesterday, but I haven’t had a chance to read the article.”

He swept away from her to the far side of the room, his mind spinning. He was unaware of the bodies and his anger at being surprised was almost boundless.

She heard him move and shifted to the side of the bed.

“Why won’t you go to the police? Interpol is here, investigating the Uffizi robbery. Why not turn these others over to the police?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t presume to give advice about things you don’t understand!”

Undeterred by his temper, Raven continued.

“You won’t turn them in, but you’d go against the others to protect me? Why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have to believe me.” His voice lowered into a growl. “Just leave the city.”

“You gave me the relic to help me. You warned me about the others. Tonight, you heard about the feral and came to see if I was all right. Obviously you don’t want me to get hurt. If you’re powerful enough to know what’s going on in the city, you must be powerful enough to help me.

“Please don’t make me leave,” she whispered. “This is the only place I’ve ever been happy.”

For a moment he was silent. He closed his eyes and began rubbing his forehead.

At length, he spoke.

“A long time ago, I came here in search of happiness.”

“Did you find it?”

“No.”

“I did.” Raven’s tone bespoke her truthfulness. “I left the U.S. to start a new life. If you send me back, I’ll have nothing.”

The Prince watched her in the darkness—her uplifted face with the creamy skin and perfect features, her long black hair. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, and she was brave. Something akin to admiration began to grow and warm in his chest.

He shook his head. He hadn’t come to her home in order to admire her. Any connection to her could only lead to darkness.

He changed the subject abruptly. “Do you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” There was an edge to her voice.

“Learn from Psyche’s mistake and do what I tell you.”

“So you’re Cupid?”

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Sylvain Reynard's Novels
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