Bite at First Sight

by Brooklyn Ann

  With sensuous slowness, Rafe bent down and kissed the backs of her thighs. His hands slid down her hips to grasp her legs. Gently but firmly, he moved them apart slightly. Her eyes widened at the brush of his hair against her skin and the sinfully tempting heat of his mouth moving closer to her… My God!

  She gasped as his tongue flicked across the center of her womanhood.

  “My, Countess, you are wet.” His deep voice rumbled against her core as his fingers continued to stroke her trembling thighs. “Te deseo, Querida. I want you.”

  “Rafe…” she murmured.

  He turned her over with dizzying speed. Before she could draw another breath, his delicious weight was on top of her, his hardness pressing against her wet cleft. He slid her chemise all the way off. His lips devoured hers with intoxicating ferocity before moving down. Drugged with pleasure, she watched his large hands gently caressing her breasts as he licked and sucked her nipples as if they were a banquet from the gods. His eyes were closed in pure, unmistakable bliss. Cassandra tangled her hands in his hair and shifted her hips, mad with the need to ease the pulsing ache he’d invoked.

  “Please,” Cassandra panted, writhing beneath him like one possessed. “Please!”

  Rafe stopped and raised himself on his elbows to look down at her. “Is this what you want, Countess?”

  His eyes glowed amber fire, his scarred face and bared fangs the epitome of predatory hunger. A small part of her knew she should be afraid, but all she could feel was utter and complete exhilaration.

  “Yes!” she whimpered, certain she would die if he didn’t take her soon.

  His weight left her body, and she heard the harsh sound of fabric tearing as he removed his trousers in a blur of speed. Then he was on top of her again, his hot flesh pressed to hers.

  With a low growl, Rafe thrust deep inside her. Cassandra cried out at the intense sensation. It was like being overtaken by a storm. Wrapping her legs around him, she rocked her hips to match his thrusts, urging him deeper. The feel of him brought her closer and closer to the peak of soul-rending ecstasy. A small scream escaped her lips as she was sent over the edge.

  While she was still gasping and shuddering beneath him, Rafe suddenly grasped her thighs and thrust into her harder, taking her with unchecked savagery. Her body rejoiced in overwhelming submission. The sound of his flesh striking hers brought her arousal to new, unfathomable heights.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped. This was not what she expected. This was far more…

  The thought fled as his fangs plunged into her neck, triggering another orgasm. Unbelievably, his thrusts deepened, intensifying the climax and sending her into a new realm of consciousness in which the universe seemed to simultaneously explode and unite.

  Rafe let out a primal growl and collapsed in her arms. Cassandra quivered beneath him, reveling in the feel of his heart pounding against hers. His mouth nuzzled her neck, inciting aftershocks of her climax.

  When he rolled over, pulling her into his embrace, Cassandra gasped. “Well, that was quite…vigorous and…well…overwhelming.”

  Rafe raised a brow. “I didn’t hear you asking me to stop.”

  She blinked and curled her fingers around his hair. “I suppose I didn’t.”

  She waited for him to say more, but he remained silent, running a soothing hand down her back. Blissful tingles ran down her body, and once more she was filled with wonder at his dynamic juxtaposition of roughness and gentleness.

  I love you… She clamped her lips shut before she could voice such an illogical statement aloud. Surely it was an overreaction to his introducing her to physical passion.

  Instantly, her heart protested, but Cassandra shunted its dangerous assertions aside. For now there was nothing she could do except savor the peace and comfort of being in his arms. Besides, surely things would be further resolved when he Changed her.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Rafe pulled her closer. Cassandra laid her head on his chest with a sigh, contenting herself to play with his silken hair and caress the captivating angles of his face before sleep claimed her.

  Seventeen

  “The time has come to take this city from Rafael Villar’s reckless clutches,” Clayton declared to his audience.

  The assembly of vampires cheered in accord. He fought to hide the bright surge of triumph that swelled within him. Nearly half of the London vampires were here tonight.

  “How are we to accomplish such a substantial feat?” Elizabeth, one of the wealthier and more powerful vampires, inquired blandly. “We cannot exactly storm Burnrath House with torches and pikestaffs as if it were the Bastille. The mortals would take notice.”

  Clayton concealed an irritated frown. He’d never liked Elizabeth. As they were nearly the same age, she had been his biggest rival in the vampire hierarchy. However, she seemed to have soured on Rafe’s reign as well. Why else would she be here? He scratched his chin and eyed her speculatively. If he could guarantee her loyalty, she would be his best choice to serve as his second-in-command.

  “We will not be doing any such thing, Elizabeth,” he said with an indulgent smile. “Aside from drawing unwanted attention from the humans, that type of action would not be honorable. We will issue an official challenge and meet Rafael Villar and his meager company of allies in a discreet location to demand his surrender and negotiate terms.”

  “And if he doesn’t peacefully step down and allow you to take over?” she asked politely, though with an unmistakable note of challenge.

  His eyes narrowed. “Then we fight.”

  “Are you certain that taking such drastic measures is a wise course of action?” Elizabeth continued to argue in a damnably reasonable tone. Had she been a man, she may have made an excellent lawyer. “You are speaking of civil war. Lives could be lost. Not only that, but the Elders would be angered. We could all be punished severely for this rebellion…perhaps even executed.”

  “This is not a rebellion. This is a revolution. And revolution is the only course of action,” Clayton said firmly. He raised his voice, addressing every member of the congregation. “As I’ve since made clear, Rafael Villar has placed us all in danger with his involvement with that mortal female of his. I was reluctant to say this before, lest I cause a panic, but I see now that it is necessary to tell you all…”

  “Tell us what?” many vampires echoed. “What has the Spaniard done now?”

  Elizabeth remained blessedly silent and watched him with avid interest.

  Clayton’s fists clenched in righteous outrage as he faced them intently. “He is harboring a mortal who may be even more dangerous than a vampire hunter…which I am still not convinced that she is not. You all saw that she carried a journal when Villar presented her to us, yes?”

  “Yes!” another vampire called out. “She tried to write in it during the meeting, before the Spaniard stopped her.”

  Many others nodded in agreement, declaring that they saw her as well.

  Just on cue, William raised his voice over the clamor. “What was she doing with that book, my lord?”

  “She was writing down the secrets of our kind, almost certainly with the intent of sharing the information with her fellow mortals. I have already reported this to the Elders…” Clayton was gratified to hear pleased gasps and murmurs at this bit of news. “In the meantime, Villar must be stopped, and Lady Rosslyn must be destroyed”—he paused dramatically before adding—“as the Elders themselves already commanded. Our very safety depends on it!”

  The vampires roared and bared their fangs in enthusiastic agreement. Elizabeth remained silent, all of her meddlesome arguments torn away. Clayton gave her a satisfied smile. He had shown her who was in the right.

  Clayton paced in front of them, imagining himself a noble general rallying his troops. “On the fifth of November, Rafael Villar will surrender to us or fall to our fangs, swords, and might in b
attle.”

  Cheers and applause shook the rafters until dust rained down upon the masses. When his audience quieted, he bowed with a flourish and made his exit as a star performer should.

  Adrenaline still pumping from his rally, Clayton grinned in satisfaction as he made his way home. He would be a far better Lord Vampire than Villar. He knew how to hold a crowd under his sway.

  “M’lord.” William’s footsteps and whining voice cut through Clayton’s euphoria.

  “What?” he snarled.

  The vampire emerged through the thick fog coming off the Thames, regarding him with hunched shoulders. “C-could you spare a bit more blunt? I need… I need…”

  From the sight of his bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, Clayton knew exactly what William thought he needed. He ground his teeth in fury. The vampire’s petty opium addiction had made him more of a liability than an asset of late.

  He sighed. “Come here.”

  William approached with a wide-fanged grin, resembling a happy bulldog.

  Clayton glanced around and sniffed the air for any sign of witnesses before snaking his hand around the back of William’s neck and slamming him face-first into a nearby brick wall.

  “I told you to quit that vile drug,” he snarled.

  Over and over he pounded the vampire’s face against the hard surface, a red haze of rage overlaying his vision thicker than brick dust. He pounded until William’s skull shattered in his hands, leaving behind a mess of flesh, bone shards, and gobbets of brain matter where a head should be. Still, William’s body twitched.

  Reaching past his overcoat, Clayton withdrew a long knife from the sheath at his belt and plunged it into William’s back, twisting until he reached the heart. When at last the vampire went still, Clayton threw the corpse into the Thames. He prayed it would sink before sunrise.

  Yet another inconvenience to blame on Villar. A proper lord should never allow drug-addled cretins to live.

  After washing his hands in the stinking river, he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued home.

  * * *

  Lenore moaned in bliss as the sweet blood flowed in her mouth. She could feel her body being rejuvenated, coming back to life like a hawthorn after winter’s long chill. For the first time in weeks she was warm, cocooned in heavenly soft blankets.

  “That is enough for now,” a deep and somehow ominous voice declared.

  The source of her sustenance was gently but firmly withdrawn from her mouth. Lenore whimpered in protest. She was still so very hungry.

  “Come now, open your eyes. You’ve been unconscious for four nights. I know you’re awake and I’m ready for some explanations,” the voice commanded.

  Though Lenore shivered in reluctance, her eyelids fluttered open. A small cry caught in her throat at the sight of the Lord Vampire of Rochester poised above her, healing a wound on his wrist where her mouth had been. No wonder the blood had been so potent.

  Her tongue ran across her fangs, tasting the dark spice of his power. A hot tremor flashed though her body, pulsing deeply in the sore place between her thighs. The sensation triggered memories of her recent violations. Lenore bit her lip to hold back a scream and turned her focus to her surroundings before her traumatic recollections could overtake her sanity.

  She was lying in the softest bed imaginable in the largest, most ornate bedchamber she’d ever seen.

  Rochester leaned forward, lacing his long fingers together as he regarded her with cold, black eyes. “Now that we are alone, Lenore, would you care to tell me how you came to be wandering in my territory, starved and beaten like a mongrel dog?”

  “I-I…” she stammered, overwhelmed and intimidated by his powerful presence. He could never know the shameful details of what had transpired in Clayton’s cellar.

  No one could.

  His already dark features twisted into a harsh mask. “It wasn’t Lord Villar, was it?”

  “No!” She shook her head fervently, wishing she had the strength to rise. “It was Clayton Edmondson, his second-in-command.”

  “On Villar’s command?” he inquired sardonically.

  Frustrated with his insistence on twisting her words, Lenore slammed her fists on the mattress. “Certainly not! Clayton had rogues abduct me, and then he held me captive as part of his plan to discredit Lord Villar.”

  Rochester raised a brow, his gaze rife with scornful disbelief. “Why does he want to discredit him? And why bring rogues into the mix?”

  Lenore fought to maintain composure under the intimidating force of his presence as she explained everything she’d overheard during her nightmarish imprisonment. “His ultimate plan is to overthrow the Lord of London and take his place.”

  “Ah, so there is to be a revolution in our esteemed capital,” the vampire mused aloud, running a hand through his long, dark curly hair.

  She nodded solemnly. At least he believed her. A small light of hope illuminated her consciousness. Perhaps he could help. Rochester was certainly a powerful vampire, and Lord Villar could use all the help he could muster.

  “Clayton is like a deadly spider, spinning a web of deception around London’s vampires. Nearly half the lot have fallen for his lies.” Lenore shuddered in fear and disgust as vivid memories of her cruel treatment under his care haunted her like malicious phantoms. “He plans to challenge Lord Villar soon.”

  “I do not see why this should concern me,” Rochester said coldly. “I have always been neutral. Aside from that, Villar and I have never been on agreeable terms. Frankly, it would surprise me if he was amicable with anyone. He’s such a prickly fellow.”

  “I think it very well should concern you.” Lenore used all of her strength and courage to sit up and face him boldly. It was time to stop cringing. “If London comes under Clayton’s control, countless vampires will suffer as I have. That is something that should concern all of our kind. And if he can allow rogues into his territory and abduct vampires, what is to stop him from meddling with your people?” She softened her tone. “Please, my lord, help Lord Villar stop this insurrection.”

  “You plead a pretty case, my dear.” Rochester’s thin lips curved in a patronizingly indulgent smile. “However, it has never been my policy to become involved with the struggles of others. Now, enough about me. There is something else that has me curious. Why is it that you came here instead of running to your own lord for protection?”

  Lenore sighed. She’d anticipated this question, knowing that on the surface her actions didn’t reflect well on her lord. “Clayton and the rogues he set to pursue me blocked all routes to Lord Villar’s abode. If I had tried to go there, they would have caught me for certain.” Chills ran over her flesh at the vivid memory of that harrowing chase. “Once I had left the city, a better plan came to mind.”

  “And what would that be, youngling?” His voice was tinged with mockery.

  Refusing to be daunted, she told him.

  For an endless moment, he stared in thunderstruck silence.

  Finally, he threw back his head and laughed. Lenore shivered at the rich, decadent sound. When he recovered, he eyed her with the first genuine smile she’d seen on his cynical countenance. Something warm and unfamiliar fluttered in her belly.

  “That is the most reckless and hazardous plan you could possibly conjure up. Also, the boldest. I toast your courage, little one.” His black eyes glittered with amusement. “Yet I must ask: How did you expect to reach your destination on time in your weak and malnourished condition?”

  Her shoulders slumped as the bleak logic in his words sank in. “I do not know.”

  With unbelievable gentleness, he ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Very well, I shall tell you. You will stay here another day and recover your strength. Then I shall see about securing your passage on a ship.”

  “Thank you, Lord Rochester. I will never forget your ki
ndness.” Overwhelmed with gratitude, she placed her hand on his.

  Rochester blinked as if surprised at her touch. Slowly, he took her hand and squeezed it gently before firmly moving it away. “Oh, I would not say I am helping you out of kindness. You will owe me a favor for this, Lenore, as will Lord Villar. And I always collect my debts.”

  Eighteen

  25 October 1823

  Rafe studied Cassandra’s lips as he moved his rook across the chessboard. They were red and puffy from his kisses. He could not wait to kiss her again. He licked his fangs, eyeing the mark on her neck from his bite. He couldn’t wait to taste her again as well.

  Last night had been a revelation. It had been more than achieving long-denied physical gratification, more than reveling in the joy that he could once more elicit cries of pleasure from a beautiful woman. It had even been more than having the ability to use both of his arms for such a delightful experience.

  Last night had been everything because it was with her.

  “Check,” she announced, not even bothering to hide her triumph.

  Rafe smiled at her enthusiasm. He’d had centuries to perfect the game. Thus far no mortal had beaten him, and very few vampires for that matter. The Lord of Cornwall, however, trounced him regularly.

  “It is only because I am distracted, Querida,” he argued gently.

  She blinked and that lovely mouth of hers gave the most delightful moue. “Distracted by what?”

  “You,” he said, blatantly staring at the curves of her breasts above her emerald brocade gown. How he longed to touch them again.

  The way her cheeks pinkened and then turned crimson filled him with delight he’d never known. Tonight he would ensure that blushes covered every inch of her succulent flesh.

  Rafe shook his head and sighed in exaggerated regret. “Alas, for now, I shall have to put forth the utmost effort to focus my attention on the game. Losing under such circumstances would be most humiliating for me.”

  Cassandra grinned and opened her mouth for a rejoinder, but then she fell silent as they heard approaching footsteps in the corridor outside. Rafe cursed the interruption to the seventh circle of hell.