“I will make you feel, little rose. Feel things you have never even entertained.” Raphael rubbed his lips together. Maria had noted the move several times since her arrival in the mansion. He did it frequently. It was nothing but habit, yet it seemed sensual to her on every level, reeled her in like the tempting offer of salvation to a sinner. “You just have to say yes. I want your consent. Your consent, little rose . . .” He smiled. “And then your soul.”
Raphael took a sip of his red wine as if he hadn’t just bartered for her soul like the devil himself. But his golden stare stayed fixed on Maria, daring her to accept. Her eyes dropped under the power of his gaze and the heaviness of his offer. Maria saw her white dress. The color of purity. It didn’t escape her that Raphael had given her a dress in this shade. He knew she was a virgin. Her strength wavered for a moment.
Her chastity was her ultimate vow to God. It was the only thing that hadn’t been taken from her when everything else had. The only other time she had worn white in recent years was when she gave herself to the church, when she married herself to Jesus in Father Quinn’s presence. And here Raphael was, offering Maria pleasure she had never once desired.
But was her chastity a cure to Raphael’s insatiable lust? Was her purity the holy bread that would sate his ravenous appetite to kill? Is that why God had placed her in Raphael’s path? Why it was she and she alone who could be his one and only chance at redemption?
Maria recalled Raphael’s offer. Replayed every word he had spoken. Could she do this? Could she give herself to this man? Take him into her embrace?
She thought of her life as a nun. Of her beliefs, her calling to help others. She lived to help people in need. Who was more in need of help than a killer? A man who thought nothing of ridding another of their life. Did he not deserve salvation too?
That God-given warmth returned to her chest, giving her the answer she desperately searched for.
And he had asked. Despite all his sins and the evil actions she knew he would think nothing of displaying, Raphael had asked.
He wouldn’t take her without her consent.
But she knew in her heart that if she refused, he might kill her before she had a chance to appeal to his good. Before she could show him the love of others. Before she could show him he didn’t have to kill.
“Yes,” Maria whispered, almost as if God had taken control of her body and spoken for her. “I consent. I consent to your will.”
The room was deathly silent for several seconds.
“Good, little rose,” Raphael sighed. “You will not regret it.”
Raphael arose from the chair, placing his wine on the table. He offered his hand, a gentlemanly move. Maria placed her hand in his. She couldn’t help but note how small her hand was compared to his. Her stomach flipped when she realized just how quickly Raphael could kill her. He dwarfed her height and slight frame. Yet he guided her from the seat with the gentleness of a whisper.
Raphael led Maria into his bedroom. The red chair where he had brushed and dried her hair still sat at the base of the bed. Raphael guided her to sit in it. He walked around her and crouched down so he could meet her eyes. The lights in the room were low, the curtains drawn, keeping the dark night from creeping inside.
Raphael dropped his hand and began threading the string around his finger. He did it so naturally that Maria understood it was a habit he did without conscious thought. “You are mine now, Maria. Do you consent to this? Tell me one more time.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I consent.” It was the truth. She did consent. It was what was meant to happen. Of this she was convinced.
Raphael’s eyes flared. “From this point on, you will do anything I say.” She watched as his cheeks burst with redness. His hard chest tightened further, causing his muscles to become more pronounced. This power . . . her consent was bringing him pleasure. Raphael hissed through his teeth. His head fell back and his eyes closed. Maria watched his neck cord, the rose tattoos that climbed his throat dancing as if caught in a breeze.
Maria shifted on her seat as heat built in her spine. Maria was here for God. She was here because she was a nun and had been tasked with saving a soul. But what shocked her was the unfamiliar feeling of excitement that consumed her when she pushed her religious duty aside and simply became a woman. She had never had lovers before, had never even been touched in a sexual way . . . but the way her body vibrated with electricity when Raphael was close, his eyes rolling back in pleasure . . . Maria didn’t know how to comprehend it. It was unexpected.