Page 28 of Bite at First Sight

“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.

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