Page 24 of Bite at First Sight

“What was that, now?” William inquired from the doorway.

Her teacup slipped in her hands. “Nothing. I was only woolgathering.” She winced as the hot liquid splashed on her fingers.

The vampire smirked. “Are you all right, Lady Rosslyn? You look feverish.”

His eyes had a strange, glazed look to them, as if he had taken laudanum. Could vampires take laudanum? Or was he merely hungry for blood? Either way, his stare was most unsettling.

“I am well.” Cassandra drank the rest of her tea, eyes watering as the hot liquid burned her throat. Trying not to shake, she set the cup on its saucer and stood.

His foggy eyes raked down her body. “You needn’t leave on my account. I won’t bite.”

I wager you would if Rafael didn’t forbid it. She wished he were here now.

“I am only tired.” She curtsied stiffly and left the room without a backward glance.

Not wanting him to follow, Cassandra rushed up to the bedchamber she shared with Rafael and locked the door. Pacing the length of the room, she felt more like a prisoner than ever. Muttering under her breath, she cursed William’s odious presence. Why couldn’t it have been Anthony? He had such kind eyes and such a merry smile that his presence was never discomfiting.

The mantel clock ticked in time with her pacing. When would Rafael return from hunting? Hunting… He was out there somewhere biting someone and drinking their blood. And I kissed him. Shivering, she took some wood from the bin and fed the fire.

Sitting before the hearth, she watched the flames. They looked so much like his eyes when they glowed with preternatural heat. Mesmerized, she moved closer. A stray spark singed the back of her hand. Cassandra winced and rubbed the tender spot. How had Rafael borne his entire arm being burned? She shuddered at the thought of such pain even as her physician’s mind wondered how deeply the damage went.

By the time Rafael returned and unlocked the door, her legs had gone numb beneath her. Heart pounding, she scrambled awkwardly off the floor as he entered the bedchamber.

He frowned at the sparking fire and took the poker, carefully adjusting the blaze. “Dawn approaches. Shall I help you with your gown now?”

Blushing, she nodded and turned around, trying not to quiver at the feel of his fingers moving down her spine as he worked the buttons loose. When she stepped from behind the privacy screen, having changed into her nightgown, he’d already laid out a pallet in front of the door.

“Ah, did you have a successful hunt?” she ventured shyly.

He raised a brow and his lips twitched in a half smile. “Yes. Sleep well, Cassandra.” With that, he lay down and rolled over to face the door.

Cassandra sighed and climbed into the large bed, wondering how long it would take to fall asleep despite the acute effect of the vampire’s presence in the room.

Eight

8 October 1823

When Cassandra awoke, her pulse raced with anticipation. Thomas Wakley would be here this evening for her lesson. Shoving the bedcovers aside, she sat up and looked at the mantel clock, its face dim in the light of the fireplace’s dying embers. It was a quarter after four. The sun would set sometime after five.

Her gaze strayed to Rafael. He was still asleep on his meager pallet on the floor. His dark brows creased in discomfort. Her heart gave a sympathetic twinge. With his damaged arm, sleeping on such a hard surface was surely painful. Could Wakley help her find the key to healing him? Or did the answer lie within the vampire’s unique biology?

Lighting the oil lamp on the bedside table, she removed her journal and quill from the drawer. For the next hour, she scribbled notes on everything she knew about musculature and burn injuries, along with what she’d learned about vampires and their physiology, searching for something that would cross-reference.

Unbidden, she glanced at Rafael again, entranced by the sharp angles and curves of his lips. Heat flowed through her body at the memory of those lips against hers. As if sensing her stare, Rafael opened his eyes, his amber gaze trapping her breath.

“Good evening, Cassandra,” he said softly. Stretching like a jungle cat, he rose to his feet with predatory grace.

Her nipples hardened under the thin fabric of her bedgown. “Good evening.”

Folding her arms across her breasts, she carefully climbed out of bed and headed to the wardrobe before he could see the effect he wrought.

After he assisted with buttoning her gown, Rafael reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and withdrew a prettily wrapped package. “Wakley intended to sell you this thing. I purchased it instead,” he said gruffly. “I presume it will be useful in your studies.”

Cassandra opened the box and gasped. It was the Van Leeuwenhoek microscope. She nearly dropped the priceless instrument in her surprise. Joy, awe, and confusion warred within her mind as she stared at his gift.

“Don Villar…” she said softly. “Thank you. This will be invaluable to my work.”

His sensuous lips—lips that had pressed against hers only last night—curved down into a scowl. “I think we are familiar enough with one another that you should call me Rafe.”

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