by Brooklyn Ann
Anthony arrived before she abandoned propriety and dissolved into girlish vapors.
Once the cadaver was stored in the icehouse and Wakley had departed, Cassandra gave Anthony the list of supplies she’d require from the apothecary and returned to the laboratory to examine Rafe’s blood.
As she was placing the slide under the microscope, a shadow fell over her.
“Is my gift pleasing to you?” Rafe’s voice slid over her flesh like warm silk.
The slide fell from her numb fingers to shatter on the floor. “Yes, Don Villar.”
His eyes narrowed on the shards of glass at her feet. His scowl deepened as he met her gaze. “I thought I told you to call me Rafe.”
Cassandra’s knees trembled as she avoided his gaze and fetched a broom. “I-I’m sorry. I am unaccustomed to informality. That is not how I was raised.”
Her explanation seemed to vex him further. “Give me the broom,” he growled, snatching it from her grasp. “It is my fault you dropped…whatever that is, and only fair that I clean it up.”
With amazing dexterity, he swept up the broken glass with his one good arm, fetched a dustpan, and removed the mess, only experiencing momentary awkwardness with the last. “Does it have to be so goddamned bright in here?”
Cassandra stiffened. “You could ask me nicely to turn them down.”
“I apologize, Cassandra.” Something flashed across his features before his countenance softened. “I was dwelling on some unpleasant news.” He strode over and extinguished one of the lamps before she could reach it. “I’ll leave the others on for whatever you intend to do with me tonight.”
Not knowing how to respond to his odd shift in demeanor, Cassandra moved a chair into the light and got straight to business the moment he sat. “W-well, Rafe, I would like to try something, but I’m afraid I will need to cut you.”
One black brow rose. “Cut me?”
Biting her lip, she nodded. “Not too much, only a tiny incision on your left extensor carpi ulnaris.”
Now both brows lifted. “My what?”
“Roll up your sleeve and I will show you.”
Rafe complied and Cassandra choked back a gasp at the still formidable muscles displayed under his scarred flesh. Tentatively, she reached out and caressed a section of his forearm. “This, right here.”
“Very well.” Rafe sighed. “And do not worry about hurting me, I have little sensation there.” After a long pause, he frowned. “Won’t you require a blade?”
Cassandra glanced down. Her finger was still trailing lightly up and down the muscle.
Cheeks burning at the inappropriate contact, she snatched her hand away and crossed the room to fetch a small table and a clean scalpel. “Now, rest your arm on the table and keep it still. I do not want to cut anything vital.”
Taking a deep breath and whispering a silent prayer for steady hands, she made the incision on his forearm. Not daring to meet his gaze, she retrieved the fresh vial of Anthony’s blood along with a dropper.
“That appears to be blood,” Rafe commented, though he sounded more perplexed than disturbed.
“It is,” she said agreeably and began dripping the ruby liquid into the incision. Immediately the cut began to knit back together.
Rafe placed his good hand on her shoulder, squeezing it with almost enough pressure to hurt. “Whose blood is it?”
“Anthony’s,” she whispered, worry curling in her stomach at his intent gaze. Had she caused him harm?
Her alarm deepened when he froze for what seemed to be an eternity.
“Cristo,” he breathed at last. “I should have considered something so simple.” Suddenly, he went rigid, eyes widening. “Dios mío!”
Cassandra placed her hand on his. “Did I hurt you? I swear, I did not intend—”
“Hurt me?” A harsh burst of laughter escaped his lips. It was a rusty sound, as if long disused. “I can feel it! Hell, I can move it. Look!”
Sure enough, the tip of his ring finger was bending back and forth. This time, it didn’t twitch. This time, it moved with purpose. Not only that, but the scarring had diminished slightly where she’d cut him.
“Saint Jude.” Triumph swelled in her breast. “It worked!”
Gleefully, she fetched her notebook and jotted down the success of her procedure.
“You have my eternal gratitude, my lady.” Rafe’s voice was laden with wonder. “For this, I will rescind my demand for payment.”
Cassandra’s gaze whipped back to him, taking in his silken mass of obsidian hair, cinnamon-tinted skin, amber eyes, and wickedly sensual lips. What woman in her right mind would not want to kiss such a striking man?
“Nonsense,” she replied, surprised at the low, throaty cadence of her voice. “We had a bargain.”
Those exotic eyes flickered with heat. “Are you certain you still wish to honor it?”
Ignoring her quaking legs, she managed a level nod. “I do.”
Before she had time to gather her breath, Rafe rose from the chair and snaked his good arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against his firm body. His bad arm draped about her waist, fingers lightly caressing her hip. Hot and cold tremors wracked her entire being, and he hadn’t even begun. Cassandra stared up at his feral, glowing eyes as he bent to claim her lips.
Unlike last night’s gentle teasing, this was an assault. A low growl trickled from his throat, sending shivers up her spine as his mouth crushed against hers. Cassandra melted into his embrace, lips parting in welcome hunger for his kiss. Like quicksilver, his tongue darted in, tangling with hers in a forbidden dance. Electric frissons coursed through her form as liquid heat pulsed below. Desperate whimpers escaped her lips as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.
Rafe broke away with a hiss. “I must go before I lose control and…”
“And?” her treacherous mouth prodded.
His eyes smoldered and his fangs glistened in the gaslight like the predatory devices they were.
“It would be best not to continue this conversation.”
Before she could respond, he left the room like a flickering shadow.
Legs weak, Cassandra stumbled to the chair he’d been sitting in only moments earlier and collapsed. Her heart pounded, her nerves tingled, and her legs felt like custard. All thoughts of her successful experiment had fled from her mind like birds from an open cage.
What was happening to her? What was it about Rafe that evoked such irrational reactions from her body and dissipated her reasoning?
Cassandra heaved a sigh. As far as she knew, no tests or documented information could explain her predicament.
Nine
9 October 1823
Rafe awoke the next evening to a strange, yet not unpleasant tingling in his left arm. The sensation flowed all the way down to his fingertips, gaining in intensity. Holding his breath, he concentrated, willing the digits to move. Two fingers complied, creaking like rusted hinges.
“Dios mío,” he said softly, rising up from where he reclined on the floor of his bedchamber. It hadn’t been a dream.
Cassandra had worked a miracle.
Rafe shook his head. Vampire blood. It was so simple. All this time he’d been using his own blood to heal the puncture wounds of the humans he fed on, but he’d never thought that the same principle could apply to himself. Hell, aside from his maker, he’d never even fed on another vampire, not caring for the idea of such intimacy. And after he was burned, he never considered it because of his ugliness.
A derisive laugh escaped his lips as he leaned against the door. Neither had anyone else of his kind.
At the sound of his laughter, his prisoner stirred. A hot jolt of lust speared him at the sound of rustling sheets. If only he were up there on that bed with her.
“Rafe?” Cassandra’s voice, velvety from sleep, further inf
lamed his desire.
Avoiding the delectable sight of her tousled hair and slumberous eyes, Rafe concentrated on getting to his feet. “It is me, Querida. I’m going to hunt. I’ll send a servant up with your breakfast and return in time to help you dress. You must attend a meeting with me later tonight.”
“I propose an alternative course of action,” she replied, all drowsiness fleeing from her face. Her russet brows drew together in willful determination.
Disappointment crept through him at her all-too-familiar analytical tone. He was now speaking with the scientist, not the woman. Somehow that did nothing to quell his lust.
Fixing her with a stern gaze that would make anyone else cringe, Rafe replied in a low and silken tone, “And what would that alternative be?”
“Help me dress now and take me with you.” Rising from the bed like a queen, Cassandra looked so cool and undaunted that he nearly missed the blush in her cheeks and the faint tremor in her voice. “I want to watch you, ah…take sustenance.”
“No.” Revulsion curdled in his gut at the thought of Cassandra watching him prey upon a human like the monster he was.
Her lush lower lip pouted. “Why not?”
His fist clenched at his side as he fabricated an excuse. “It would be dangerous…and unseemly to bring a mortal woman to my usual hunting grounds.”
“That is entirely illogical.” Her auburn curls danced in the lamplight as she shook her head. “For one thing, you are capable of protecting me. For another, if the possibility still remains that I am to be transformed into a vampire, should I not learn how to feed myself?”
He bit off a curse. Again, her reasoning trounced his. Her scent filled his awareness, beckoning his blood thirst with intoxicating temptation.
Rafe ran his tongue along his fangs. “Because, damn it, if I do not leave now, I’m going to lose control of my hunger and make you my sustenance, Countess.”
Cassandra’s eyes widened, yet still she did not flinch. “The need is that intense, then?”
He nodded and bared his fangs further to reinforce his point.
“Perhaps you could drink from me.” Her blush intensified, crimson on alabaster. “At least enough to, ah, tide you over.”
Rafe couldn’t stop his ravenous gaze from caressing her ripe form, maddeningly shrouded beneath the folds of her voluminous nightgown. The smooth column of her neck was bare, flooding him with memories of its satin heat against his lips. His cock hardened.
Her offer was too enticing to resist. Of their own volition, his feet carried him closer. “Just a taste.”
Cassandra shivered, inciting his predatory instincts. He seized her arms, reveling in the warmth of her skin. For a long moment, Rafe was content to merely stare at her, drowning in the deep, sea-green pools of her eyes, admiring the sculpted perfection of her features and the decadent curve of her mouth.
Though he should feel guilt for holding such a treasure in his monstrous grasp, he couldn’t manage more than a wisp of contrition. She felt too damned good.
And she tasted even better. As Rafe slowly plunged his fangs into her flesh, he couldn’t hold back a groan of pleasure at her sweetness. A soft, provocative sound escaped Cassandra’s lips as her body melted against his. The feel of her firm, round breasts pressed to his chest brought forth another dangerous wave of desire.
With painful reluctance, Rafe withdrew his fangs, not yet willing to relinquish her. Prolonging this moment as long as possible, he licked her puncture wounds, savoring every last flowing drop of her blood and Cassandra’s hot, panting breath against his ear. Her hand tangled in his hair, sending delicious shivers down his spine. Unable to resist, Rafe ground his hardness against her as his tongue strayed from her wound to explore the delectable curve of her neck.
“Rafe…” Cassandra moaned. “Please…”
Her soft, imploring voice slammed into his awareness like a hammer on an anvil. Was she begging for him to continue or to stop? Either was proof that the moment had become dangerous. If he didn’t stop now, he would ravage her, despite his promise to the contrary.
Rafe broke away before her seductive fire could burn him any further. “Procure a gown,” he said through clenched teeth. “And a scarf as well, to cover your wound.”
She blinked up at him in confusion and put a shaking hand to her neck. “Why will you not heal it this time?”
“Tonight I must present you to my people and explain this…situation. It would be best if they saw visible evidence of my claim on you.”
Is that your only reason? his sardonic inner voice taunted. As he took in the vision of her flushed cheeks, rosy lips, and still heaving breasts, Rafe closed his eyes to blot out temptation. What sane man wouldn’t want to claim this woman in every way?
Cassandra stiffened, eyes narrowed in outrage. “Do you mean like a brand?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Rafe sighed. Only moments ago he’d had his fangs in her neck and been on the verge of ravaging her senseless, and she was concerned about this? The woman was unbelievable. “Now hurry and find a dress. I am still hungry.”
Still huffing, Cassandra did as bidden. As he laced up the back of the forest-green velvet gown, Rafe gritted his teeth with the effort to not lick her creamy back and shoulders. Already, he was addicted to the taste of her.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Put on your cloak. I’ll fetch you a pasty from the kitchen.”
She inclined her head in acquiescence, threw on the heavy, black wool garment, and followed him down the stairs.
“Unbelievable,” Rafe muttered once more as they walked the gaslit streets.
Cassandra paid him no heed. She was far too occupied with juggling her massive journal and quill, with a meat pasty held in her teeth in a most un-countess-like manner. He constantly had to steer her shoulders to prevent her from colliding with lampposts.
As they passed his favorite tobacconist, Rafe couldn’t resist the urge to pop in and view the new wares. The proprietor was the only one in Town who kept his doors open after nightfall, and Rafe paid him a hefty sum to keep doing so.
“You’re taking sustenance here?” Cassandra glanced up from her scribbling.
“No. I want to look at the cigars.”
“Why?”
“I like to smoke.”
There were no new varieties to sample, so Rafe purchased a box of his favorite Cuban cigars and a pouch of a good Turkish blend for his pipe. He bit back a smile at Cassandra’s moue of distaste when Sampson offered her a sample of snuff.
Once they left, she returned to her note-taking. Rafe shook his head. Did she presume that vampires lacked hobbies?
Shortly after they reached Covent Garden, snide whispers caught his ears.
“Look, Victoria. It’s Lady Rosslyn!”
“Good heavens, it is! So the rumor is true, then. She’s taken up with him!”
Two ladies leaving the opera peered at them insolently above their fans, tittering maliciously. Rafe favored them with a glare, while putting a protective arm around his countess. Cassandra glanced up distractedly and nodded politely as she saw the other women. The pair of bitches lifted their noses and crossed to the opposite side of the street with such pointed haste that their foppish escorts had to dash after them.
“Stupid coños,” Rafe growled, pulling Cassandra closer to shield her from such spite.
“Hmmm?” she murmured, chewing on the last bit of the pasty.
“They are snubbing you because they believe you are a fallen woman.” He spat in their direction. “As if their morality is lily white.”
Cassandra blinked at him. “Why should I care what they think? I am no longer obligated to be part of their world, and to be truthful, I am quite relieved by that fact.”
Rafe shook his head in bemusement. This woman would never cease to surprise him. In his mortal days, if his stepsisters had been snubbed in such a manner, they would have been devastated and taken to their beds. As daughters of the wealthiest don in Navarra, they thought nothing was more important than preserving their social status.
“How do you select a person to be your, ah, meal?” Cassandra interrupted his nostalgic reverie. “Do you seek out the weak ones, like a wolf?”
He raised a brow at her cool inquisitiveness. “All humans are weak compared to me.”
She cocked her head to the side. “How do you choose?”
“Discretion is the main priority. Our kind cannot allow mortals to retain knowledge of our existence.” Rafe’s sensitive hearing picked up a light cough from a nearby alley. “Which is why we shall be going this way. Now be quiet.”
Cassandra complied, tucking her journal under her arm as she pulled an ink blotter from the pocket of her cloak to replenish her quill. Rafe paused at the alley’s entrance, lifting his gaze to the heavens. Why had he agreed to this?
Unfortunately it was too late to turn back and take her home. Already the scent of prey teased his nostrils, inflaming his blood thirst to a fevered pitch. He needed to feed now. Giving Cassandra one last look, he stalked his victim, praying she wouldn’t muddle up this hunt.
As Rafe’s shadow passed over the vagrant hunched against the wall, the man looked up and gave him a toothless grin. “I say, guv’nor, could ye spare a shilling or two?”
“Of course.” Rafe immediately captured the man’s gaze, pulling his waking mind under a sea of unconsciousness. With a gesture and mental command, Rafe made the man stand.
Just as he bared his fangs and prepared to strike, Cassandra whispered, “What is wrong with him?”
Rafe turned to face her. She was far more preferable to the filthy unfortunate before him. Like comparing claret to rotgut. Forcing his attention back to the matter at hand, he explained, “I have taken his mind under my power so that he will neither feel nor remember this moment.”
“How?”
Grinding his teeth in impatience, he fought off a growl. “How am I to know? It is just the way it is done.” Before she could interrupt again, Rafe seized the man by the collar and sank his fangs into his meal.