“Not necessarily.” Raven’s eyes moved to William’s. “Do you love her?”

William wore an expression of distaste.

“Of course not. The last time I saw her privately, we had an argument and I told her to leave the Palazzo Riccardi and never return. That was long before I brought you here on the motorcycle.”

“But you rely on her.”

“She is the least of a myriad of evils.”

Raven looked stricken.

William watched her cautiously. He saw the hurt on her face. He could hear her heart and breathing, smell her anxiety. But he had no idea how to reassure her.

Truthfully, her reaction had taken him completely off guard. He didn’t have the emotional awareness or experience that would enable him to defuse the situation.

He simply stood, staring.

Raven waited, hoping for a word or caress that didn’t materialize.

She began to feel the icy fingers of despair encroaching on her heart.

“I know what I felt when they shot at you.” Tears filled Raven’s eyes. “I thought they were going to kill you.”

“Cassita,” he whispered, taking her in his arms.

Her tears rained on his chest as he held her, her shoulders shaking.

“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.” His voice broke on the words.

He held her more tightly, as if realizing all of a sudden what her sacrifice meant.

“I’ve been a vampyre since 1274 and no one, no human, has ever come to my aid before tonight. You’ve seen the monster and you haven’t desired death to blot him out of your memory. You honor and astound me.”

Gently, he stroked her hair, brushing kiss after kiss against the top of her head.

At length, she pushed him away.

He looked at her in confusion. “Cassita?”

“I honor you, but you won’t trust me.”

“I just trusted you with my age. I think the better question is, will you ever trust me?” He frowned.

“I’m standing here, William, begging for any truth you can give me. I want to know you.”

He pressed his lips together, his eyes searching hers. But he said nothing.

She looked up at him with tremulous eyes. “Do you love me?”

He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand. “Answer me.”

He spoke softly, patiently. “Vampyres aren’t capable of love. Those feelings were taken with our humanity. As I said, I care for you. I have affection, passion, and respect for you.”

She wiped her eyes and turned away. “I love you, William.”

He froze, his body alert.

“I was drawn to you almost from the beginning. You made me feel things about myself and then I began feeling things about you. That’s why I offered myself to you. I wanted to see how deep our connection could be. When I thought I was going to lose you, I realized that I love you.”

He moved as if to take her in his arms again, but she resisted.

“For a long time, I thought love was not for me. Men who noticed me were few and far between. Almost all of them just became friends with me. You changed my mind. You changed my world. I started believing that maybe someone could love me and I could love him in return. I felt hope, William. You gave me that.”

“Come here.”

“I am not a cripple,” she said fiercely. “I am not a pet.”

“Of course not.” William’s voice was low, soothing. “You’re my Raven.”

“Don’t you understand? If all you feel for me is affection, I am nothing more than a pet to you.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it?” She swiped at her eyes. “You feel something for me, but it isn’t love. You say you’ll never love me. All I’m left with is the affection you feel for a friend, or maybe an animal you saw suffering and took pity on.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” His eyes flashed. “I don’t pity you.”

“Perhaps not. But I will never be anything more than a pet in your world. A pet you can’t even trust with your true name. I might not be as beautiful as Aoibhe, or have perfect legs like other women, but I deserve love.”

William gazed at her, his face a mask of confusion and worry.

“I would stay with you, for as long as I lived,” Raven said quietly. “But don’t you see? I’d be miserable. Maybe you can’t ever love anyone. Maybe you can’t love me. I’ll always wonder if today is the day you decide you want someone else and you throw me away.”

“That won’t happen,” he protested.

“You can’t say that. You don’t know the future. But I know my own future, because I know myself. To stay with you, I’d have to give up my hope of having someone love me. I’d have to live with your secrets and my doubts until finally all hope was gone.

“If I stayed with you, William, you would kill my hope.” Two tears trailed down her cheeks. “I won’t let it die.”

“Raven.” His voice was hoarse. “If I were capable of loving anyone, it would be you.”

Raven closed her eyes.

“You say you love me, yet you’re the one leaving?” he huffed.

“I have to.”

He paced the room, back and forth, his hands in fists.

“You’re confused. You say you’re leaving because of love, but really, you’re leaving because of who I am. Because of what I am.”

She opened her eyes. “That isn’t true.”

“This is the way the myth is always told. Psyche will not heed the warnings of Cupid and so she injures them both.”

“Did you warn me not to fall in love with you?” Raven reproached him.

“I told you the story of Allegra. That should have been warning enough.”

“I’m not going to fling myself off a bell tower, William. I’m just flinging my heart overboard, hoping you’ll want it.”

“I want it,” he hissed. “I want you. I will elevate you to consort. You will be a princess among my people. I will shower you with gifts, whatever you desire.”

Raven gave him an empty look.

“Your love would have been gift enough.”

He didn’t have a response for that. He looked around the room, desperate for something, anything that could persuade her.

“I care for you. Didn’t our evening at Teatro demonstrate that?”

“Yes, you loved me with your body.” She gazed at him sadly. “But not with your heart.”

“My heart is part of my body,” he whispered.

“Then love me.”

William met her eyes, then turned away.

He strode to the closet, withdrawing an armful of clothes.

“If you want to go, go. But know this.” He walked to the door. “You are the one who is ending what we shared. Not Aoibhe. Not another woman. And certainly not me.”

He opened the door and entered the hall, slamming the door behind him. The paintings and light fixtures rattled on the walls.

Raven sank onto the divan, burying her face in her hands.

Less than thirty minutes later, Marco was driving her home. She left the sketches on the bed and the bracelet on William’s nightstand.

Chapter Fifty-one

Raven grieved silently and privately.

It would have been embarrassing to confess the explanation for her sadness—that she’d had her universe expanded in a short period of time, tasted passion and affection, and fallen in love only to discover her love would never be reciprocated.

She tried to take consolation in the fact that she’d progressed from thinking that love was not for her to hoping that, someday, it might be. Even if the dream was never realized, the prospect remained.

She tried listening to music.

The first time “White Blank Page” by Mumford and Sons played on her laptop, she switched it off. Then she listened to it several times.

It was while listening to this song that she came to the momentous conclusion that what William believed about the nature of feeding and addiction was wrong.

She craved the experience. She craved him. But her desires for him, sexual and otherwise, were not enough to overthrow her reason. They were not enough to impel her to cast aside hope and crawl back to him.