Raphael smiled, a loving, compassionate smile. “Your heart will cease to beat.” Maria’s lips parted and she released a short, soft breath. “I’ll hold you, little rose. I’ll hold you tightly in my arms, until you are no longer warm.” Raphael kissed Maria’s cheek. “I’ll place a rose in your hair—the best one from my garden. And you’ll have a bouquet in your hands. Twelve white roses for you to hold.” Raphael kissed her lips, tasting salt on her mouth. Tears were falling down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs. “You will be so perfect, little rose. So, so perfect. You’ll be nothing like these.” He flicked his hand to the pictures on the wall. He turned her to the shrine. “Your photo will take pride of place in this room.”
Raphael brought Maria to his chest. He held her head and body against him. His hands wrapped in her hair, and they stayed that way until he led her to bed.
“I wont abandon you, my lord,” Maria said against his lips as he kissed her goodnight. “I’m here for you. I am here to serve only you.”
Raphael’s happiness didn’t fade from his heart.
*****
“Beautiful,” Raphael said as Maria walked out of the closet. She wore a purple dress that fell to the floor. He had dried her hair, and it fell in natural waves down to her thighs. She wore golden sandals on her feet and a peach rose tucked behind her ear. Unlike the white dresses she wore in Raphael’s private room, this dress was opaque, not a touch of skin visible underneath.
Maria took Raphael’s outstretched hand. He pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her back. He lowered his mouth and kissed her, feeling her body go weak under his touch. When he pulled back, her lips were red. “Let’s go.” Raphael led Maria down the stairs and to the dining room. He felt her hand shaking in his as they approached the closed door. Raphael heard his brothers’ voices from the other side.
Maria’s face was pale. “They won’t harm you,” Raphael assured her. He brought the back of her hand to his mouth and kissed her soft skin. Maria exhaled and gave him a small smile.
Raphael turned the door knob and entered. Each of his brothers turned their way when he walked through. Only Michael was missing. He had received a Revelation and was out making his kill.
Maria followed behind. Gabriel got to his feet. He smiled at them both. “Raphe, Maria.”
“Gabriel,” Maria said softly.
His brother smiled at her and gestured to a seat. “Please. Sit.” Raphael led her to the table and pulled out her seat. Maria sat to his left, beside Gabriel at the top of the table. Sela sat to Raphael’s right. His brothers were quiet and watching them closely.
Raphael gripped Maria’s hand, bringing their joined hands to rest on the table between them. Bara smiled at the sight, sipping at his red wine. He cleared his throat. “Maria, we weren’t introduced before.” He nudged his head in Diel’s direction. “Our brother here temporarily lost his fucking mind and tried to kill you.” Bara put his hand on his chest, head bowing. “For that, we can only apologize.” He smirked at Diel. “We’re not all impulsive maniacs, I assure you.”
Diel’s blue eyes narrowed on Bara, and he shifted in his seat. Diel turned to Maria. “It won’t happen again. I’m calm.”
Maria gave Diel a tight smile. The staff brought the food through. When they each had a plate, Sela asked, “What do you do on the outside world, Maria?”
Sela’s eyes were on her body, roving over her arms and face. Raphael knew it wasn’t sexual. Sela was an artist. His obsession was body parts.
Maria placed down her fork. “I am a novitiate.” Her eyes flicked to Gabriel, then back to Sela. “I am training to be a nun.”
The air grew thick with tension. Uriel leaned forward, lips tight. “You know Father Quinn.”
“He’s my mentor.” Maria’s words were spoken with reservation. Raphael narrowed his eyes at her. Maria cleared her throat. “Father Quinn and Father Murray were the ones who sent me to find Raphael.”
Raphael froze. Every muscle in his body locked as Father Murray’s name circled his head. Anger boiled inside him. When Raphael looked up at the silent table, all of his brothers’ eyes were fixed on him. His chest pulled so tight he felt as if his skin would tear under his shirt.
Maria’s hand squeezed Raphael’s, but he couldn’t look away from the food on his plate to look at her. Rage was surging through his veins. He could immediately feel the floor of the torture room under his knees, Father Murray’s hand in his short hair, ripping it back until his neck ached. Stuffing his mouth with his cock, then pinning him down—