Chapter Thirty-Five
Little Ravena was walked to the living room where her mother had undressed her while Ilya took his photographs. Raven watched as her mother got to her knees. She showed Raven what to do.
Ilya had to force her. Raven didn’t like the taste and that revulsion showed in his photographs, making them a uniquely sought after commodity and earning him notoriety for his work. And the European publishers didn’t get all prissy about the girl’s age. Not like the Americans who seemed to want the girl’s birth-date tattooed to her forehead.
Raven had grown into the amazingly statuesque woman who now lay on the bed before him. He looked at his sleeping daughter; looked at the parted lips and remembered how good that had felt.
Ilya held his emotions in check as Raven moved in her sl
