“You are wounded.” He had been shot in the chest, and blood was rushing out of the wound like a river.
Her legs wobbled, but she stumbled toward him. She had to use something to stop the flow of blood.
She shouldn’t touch him—
He would die if she didn’t.
“It’s all right, Lady Ophelia.”
“Stand down, Ravenhunt.” The gray-haired man held a strange weapon pointing at him. She recognized it from pictures in books. A medieval crossbow.
In front of her, Ravenhunt seemed to disappear. But he didn’t. There was a blur of movement, like ripples in the air on a hot day. Next thing she knew, the arrogant young man who had fired the pistol was lying unconscious on the ground, Cartwell was disarmed, and nude Ravenhunt held the crossbow pointed at both men.
The other young man fired. The pistol exploded with a roar, a flash of powder. The ball slammed into Ravenhunt.
She screamed.
Blood blossomed on his side. There was an enormous, bloody, black-rimmed hole in the side of his chest. It should have felled him, just as the first shot should have, but he just frowned at it.
Ravenhunt stalked to the man, grasped his arm, and twisted it sharply. A loud
“Run, you Royal Society bastard,” he snapped at Cartwell. “Run before I shoot you with your own damned crossbow.”
Cartwell ran, stumbling on the cobbles.
Ravenhunt turned to her and crooked his finger. “Come, Lady Ophelia. We must get you to safety. There are likely more of them—Cartwell’s flight will send them in pursuit of us.”
She knew she was being a meek and cowardly fool. But she walked toward Ravenhunt. Even though he was naked. Even though he must be insane. Even though he had kept her as a prisoner.
He had taken two pistol shots for her. She was dazed and unable to think.
Ravenhunt stepped toward her, and she realized the blood was no longer flowing from his wounds. With shaky fingers, she touched the first wound. The blood was dry. The hole was smaller.
She looked at the wound on his side. He said nothing. Just stood and let her look.
When she straightened, the hole in his chest was gone.
“You’ve healed,” she gasped. “That’s impossible!”
Ravenhunt inclined his head. “I have a power, too, Lady Ophelia. The power to heal myself.” He smiled. “Do you believe me now, Ophelia? Do you accept that you are in danger and you can trust me?”
“I—I don’t know. Those men were going to kill me. But you took me prisoner. Was it for them?”
“No. But you have to understand now why I kept you and would not let you go.”
“Why are you not wearing any clothes?”
“I was undressing for bed when I realized you had escaped.”
“And you ran out naked?”
He began to shake his head, but he looked guilty.
“You let me escape. You let me take the key, you followed me. When I thought I was so clever and I had defeated you, I hadn’t at all!” Somehow that made her the angriest. That he must have been laughing at her at every step.
“I had to let you understand the dangers out here,” he said.
“You let me escape because you knew they would attack me.”
“I had to make you appreciate the danger is real.”
“Why? Why would you care? What do you want from me? I have nothing to give. All I do is hurt people.”
Ophelia threw the words at him and tried to run from him.
But Raven caught her wrist and pulled her hard against his chest. He cradled her. Raven knew this touch was not for seduction. He heard the self-loathing in her frantic tones. She had a power she could not control, and he knew what hell that was like.
He hugged her.
“You shouldn’t do this,” she said bitterly. “You might die.”
“Then give me a kiss. If I’m going to die for it, I want to make it worth it.”
“We cannot kiss here. You are not wearing any clothes.”
He laughed at that. “True.” He released her and bowed. “Come back to my home with me. Let me keep you safe.”
“But what am I going to do? I mean, from now on. I cannot live like this.”
He kissed the top of her head. He was naked because he had changed into bat form and had flown to her rescue. It had been a closer shave than he’d planned.
“There is a solution, Lady Ophelia,” he said softly. “You can give up your power. You can give it to me. But —”
“But?”
“You will have to come with me, where you will be safe. Then I will explain. Are you willing, Lady Ophelia?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes, you do. You can run away from me now.”
“And risk getting shot by more of those lunatic men. Or I can trust you. I choose you. I will go home with you.”
5
The Bookstore
The door closed behind her, Ravenhunt turned the key in the lock, and Ophelia faced him, knowing she had willingly stepped into her prison. Now she would find out if she had been wrong to believe him.
“How do I give you my power? Why in heaven’s name would you want it?”
He led her to the dining room. The forgotten supper was cold, but he handed her a crystal goblet brimming with white wine. She sipped, for he seemed to be waiting for her to drink. When she paused, he motioned with his hand for her to drink more.
She frowned. “Why do you want me to be tipsy before you tell me?”
“You are remarkable. You were just attacked by men of the Royal Society, and yet you are flinty-eyed and calm with me.”
“You are avoiding the question.”
“You are a worthy adversary, Lady Ophelia. But I want you to understand we aren’t fighting anymore.” He pointed to the door. “You are free to go whenever you wish.”
“I don’t wish to right now.”
He plucked her glass from her hand and filled it again.
“Why do you want my power, Ravenhunt? Is it because you are an assassin?”
“I don’t want to use it, love. It is my plan to destroy the power so no one can use it. Only I can do that, and I have to take it from you to do it.”
She took another sip of the wine. It was dry and tart and delectable. His words did make sense. She could be free of the power. And it would never hurt anyone else—
He lifted her hand to his lips as she drank a little more of the tempting wine. He brushed her fingers with a gentle kiss, then turned her hand and gave a long, lingering kiss in her palm.
