Page 7 of Bite at First Sight

Clammy lips pressed against hers in the darkened bedchamber. John awkwardly fumbling beneath her nightgown. Pain…only a few moments… It seemed to last forever.

Whispers and laughter at Cassandra’s eccentricity echo behind fans at the Devonshire ball. She escapes into the garden and sees John in the arms of her former chaperone. Relief, blessed relief. With her husband occupied, there will be more time to pursue her studies.

John gapes in shock as Cassandra encourages him to continue with his lover. When returning home from Sarah’s embrace, he often brings her a new scientific text.

Sarah crying in Cassandra’s arms. John’s heart gave out with no warning, just as Papa’s had. But why? He was so young. Rifling through her medical books. There must be an answer. Widowhood at least gave her time to study.

Cruel faces looking down on her at Cambridge, Oxford, and Saint Bartholomew’s. All said the same thing: “I am sorry, Lady Rosslyn, but women are not permitted to attend.” Her fists clenched in fury. She would show them. She would become the best physician in Britain on her own.

Trudging through the cemetery, shivering in the cold, raising her shovel to plunge it into the frosty soil.

Rafael Villar emerges from the shadows. Her heart races as he pulls her into his arms. Desire pulses between her legs. Only this man, this dark, dangerous man, had affected her in such an alarming manner. Moonlight glistens on deadly sharp fangs as they pierce her soft flesh—

Cassandra jolted from the dream, a cry dying on her lips as her eyes snapped open. Fresh panic gripped her throat as she took in the almost completely dark bedchamber. Unfamiliar shadows and a foreign, yet compelling scent of spices overcame her senses. This was not her room. Where am I?

Scrambling from the unfamiliar bed, she adjusted the meager oil lamp with trembling fingers. As her surroundings were further illuminated, memories of the previous night crashed down upon her. She was at Burnrath House, a prisoner of Rafael Villar…and he was a vampire.

Choking back a gasp, she glanced at the doorway. He was gone, but he could return any moment.

Cassandra struggled with the buttons on the back of her gown, shoulders throbbing with the effort. Managing to fasten all but the top one, she sighed and shook her hair down her back to cover it, setting the pins on the nightstand. She was far from presentable, but there was nothing to be done. Besides, why should she care? It was not as if she’d chosen to be abducted by a vampire and locked in his bedchamber without any food or so much as a change of clothing.

A vampire… All her thoughts and questions from the previous evening returned. Never before had she encountered such a fascinating being. Rafael possessed unfathomable strength. His speed defied the laws of nature…and his bite, good God, his bite. How could something so macabre feel so pleasurable?

She placed a hand on her neck where his mouth had been, awed at the smooth and unblemished skin. Somehow, he had healed the wound. Magic. Cassandra shook her head. Impossible. She’d never believed in magic and she wasn’t about to start. A scientific explanation must exist.

Pacing the room, she observed the lack of windows. Cassandra froze as memories assaulted her consciousness. The Duchess of Burnrath had been responsible for the renovation, removing all windows on the upper floors, claiming to mitigate the recent window tax.

Her breath fled as Rafe’s words to her the previous night came back. “Is that why you befriended the Duchess of Burnrath?”

“My God,” she whispered as it all came clear.

Gossip had circulated about the duke being a vampire after the publication of John Polidori’s story, “The Vampyre.” Cassandra had been in mourning at the time and dismissed the tidbits she’d heard as pure folderol. The talk silenced when the duke married, but the rumors seemed to have been true all along.

The duke and duchess were vampires. That was why Rafael had thought she was a vampire hunter. Her dearest, eccentric friend, Angelica, with whom Cassandra had enjoyed dozens of literary salons, musicales, and phantasmagorias, had been an immortal, blood-drinking creature all along. Now that she thought of it, Her Grace had never once paid her a call during the day.

Now the couple’s eccentricity made sense—they had only entertained at night. Rafael had said he’d been burned by worse than fire. Could he have been referring to the sun? She couldn’t begin to imagine such an unnatural vulnerability.

As she awaited his return, and hopefully a meal, Cassandra pondered her dilemma. What would her servants think when she didn’t return? Granted, they were accustomed to her autonomy and late hours, but even they would take notice if she didn’t return by the morning, or the next…

She shook her head. It was best to focus on things she could possibly control.

She needed to learn more about Villar and his kind. Therein lay the key to her survival. Perhaps if she discovered a way to heal Rafael’s arm, he would allow her to live. Closing her eyes, she devised a tentative plan.

The sound of the key in the lock had her bolting to her feet. It was time to face her captor.

“Good evening, my lady,” Anthony said cheerfully, carrying a cloth-wrapped object.

Cassandra didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed to see the other vampire. Then the aroma of seasoned meat and freshly baked bread emanating from the basket he carried teased her nostrils. She’d never passed an entire day without eating.

“I’ve brought you some breakfast. Tea is brewing below stairs. However, I thought you might want this hot and fresh.” Anthony unwrapped the cloth to reveal a flaky meat pasty.

“Thank you very much.” Salivating, she needed all her effort to take the food gracefully and not snatch it from his grasp like a wild beast. Past the capacity for manners, she took a bite of the steaming pie without further preamble. It was much better than the previous evening’s greasy stew. “Is Don Villar about?”

Anthony shook his head. “No, my lady. He is out seeking his own sustenance.”

“Ah yes, blood.” Cassandra wiped her mouth with the cloth. “I wonder what makes your kind require it.”

The vampire’s eyes widened at her candor. “I’m sure I do not know, my lady.”

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