Page 37 of Bite at First Sight

That did not sound agreeable. She couldn’t hide her suspicion. “What do you mean?”

William held out his hands in the age-old gesture of innocence. “Nothing nefarious, I swear. I am sure you have many a sleeping draught in your pharmacopeia. All you have to do is take one, and I will transport you out of Villar’s clutches and away from the city before you awaken.”

“No.” The adamant conviction in her refusal surprised even her. “Although I dislike the idea of being a prisoner, I have been given the chance to study mysteries that other scientists and physicians could only dream of. I cannot turn my back on such an opportunity.”

But is that the only reason you wish to remain here? her inner voice taunted. No. I want to stay with Rafe. The realization struck her like a bolt through the chest, intensifying the ache in her heart at the thought of leaving him.

Cassandra scrambled up from her seat. “Excuse me. I must return to my studies. Mr. Wakley should be here soon for my lesson.”

William eyed her warily. “You won’t tell Rafe of my offer, will you? He might kill me if you do.”

“Certainly not. You were only trying to do me a kindness after all, and I would hate to see you punished for that.” Before he could continue this discomfiting conversation, she fled the dining room.

Was William really trying to do her a kindness? Considering all of his hostility toward her when she’d first arrived, it was hard not to suspect his motives. He may have even intended to kill her himself once he smuggled her out of the city. However, Cassandra decided it would be best to try to sort out the matter on her own before speaking to Rafe.

Rafe… The memory of his burning amber gaze and the delirious heat of his kiss weakened her knees so suddenly that she had to cling to the banister for support, lest she tumble down the stairs. Cassandra dug her fingers into the fine-grained wood until her knuckles turned white. What was happening to her? Where had her reasoning fled?

The moment she recovered her balance, she charged up the stairs and into her laboratory. Slumping against the door, she focused on the meticulous organization of beakers, medical texts, and surgical instruments, willing the comforting sight to calm her tumultuous thoughts.

Staring at the tools of her trade, she evaluated the facts. I’ve been taken prisoner by Rafael Villar. He is a vampire. Because I know this, he will eventually kill me or make me like him. His arm is crippled but he is allowing me to examine and operate on him…in exchange for kisses. Taking a deep breath, she continued her inner recitation. William has offered to help me escape and I refused. I refused because I want to heal Rafe’s arm. I am healing his arm. I want to learn more about vampires. I want to know more about him. I want him to kiss me more. I want to remain with him because I lo— Her mind cut off the illogical word with a mute cry of alarm. No, she mustn’t even think it!

But her traitorous emotions refused to be quelled, forcing Cassandra to acknowledge defeat. If not the fanciful, likely imaginary manifestation of love, she felt something for Rafael Villar. She could not claim indifference, or even casual fondness. He’d captured her fascination from the moment she’d laid eyes on him a year ago. His touch made her weak and left her longing for more. His kisses made her reasoning flee, only to be replaced by a passion she’d never felt. Even his company affected her.

What if he only kissed her because she was there and he had no more preferable alternative? What if he felt nothing for her?

A strange emptiness filled her when he was gone. And when she saw or read something interesting, she felt the urge to share it with him. It was so very odd.

Shaking her head, Cassandra crossed the laboratory to her library of medical texts. It did no good to ponder what she couldn’t control. What she could do was find the best way to progress on Rafe’s treatment. The best way to ease his pain. Anthony had brought her some cannabis—apparently Rafe was supposed to smoke it like tobacco—though she had no guarantee of how effective it would prove to be.

Cassandra scanned the books and selected the volumes she thought would contain the most useful information on atrophy and muscle spasms. Once she was settled in an overstuffed chair by the fire, her nerves calmed as she absorbed herself in the soothing routine of studying.

She came upon a remedy for Rafe’s pain and spasms. It was unorthodox, yet completely logical. The thought of performing such a treatment made her pulse race and her entire being kindle with desire. Cassandra now understood what Hippocrates meant when he’d stated: “The physician must be experienced in many things, but assuredly in rubbing.”

Another tendril of heat curled through her belly. Oh yes, she would love to “rub” Rafe. Cassandra shook her head at the unreasonable craving. Never before had she wished to touch another person so intimately. Her experience in the marriage bed had been a chore she’d endured with dread. But with Rafe…

Torrid mental images played across her mind. Her fingers buried in his silken hair…her breasts pressed against his hot, muscled chest…his amber eyes glowing with savage hunger as he thrust inside her, deep and hard…

Cassandra gasped as moisture pulsed between her thighs. She knew it would be different with him than with her late husband. Just how different, she had no notion…but she was now resolved to find out.

After all, she could be dead in mere weeks. Why not experience physical pleasure for the first time in her life? And what better prospect than Rafe, whose kisses warmed her in places that had long since been cold?

She glanced back down at the book, memorizing the instructions and techniques. Yes, this would be the perfect method to begin her seduction. And if that failed, at least she would still be aiding the treatment of his arm.

Thomas Wakley arrived and Cassandra had to hide a smile over William’s discomfort at helping him bring the cadaver back up to the laboratory. For monsters who were supposed to terrorize the night, vampires were decidedly squeamish.

Once they were alone, she handed Wakley the article she’d written about the effects of ether, though she’d omitted the fact that her patient had required a second dose.

“Splendid!” Wakley declared after skimming the piece. “And how fares his arm?”

“It is too soon to tell,” she said evasively. “I must wait for the incisions to heal.”

He nodded. “Well, we had better get on with the next lesson if there’s any hope for the operations to be successful.”

She learned even more this time. As they made further incisions and delved deeper into the tissues, her mind synchronized the new knowledge with the old and mapped out the course of Rafe’s next surgery.

Once they were finished, she asked more questions about burn wounds and muscle injuries, jotting down notes in her journal.

Praying she wasn’t blushing, she dared ask another question. “What do you know of massage?”

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