Page 46 of Bite at First Sight

“I know,” Clayton said plainly as he poured another glass of brandy.

The vampire took it gratefully, gulping down a large swallow. “It was rather unsporting of Villar to toss me out in the cold without enough blunt to pay for a decent room.”

The hint was pathetic in its obtuseness. More likely you squandered your wages on opium, like the weak-willed addict you are, Clayton said silently. Aloud he said, “I could give you some money for a room.”

William grinned in triumph that his hint had been taken. “You will?”

“Yes, but you will have to earn it.” Clayton pulled a square of parchment from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to William. “This is a list of the London vampires who have pledged their loyalty for my cause. I need you to seek them all out and tell them to come to my meeting place three nights hence.”

“Very well.” Obviously the lazy son of a bitch was holding back a groan as he took the list.

Clayton reached into his other pocket and pulled out a few banknotes. “And this”—he pulled out one more—“is for you to stay away from me until our next meeting. Are we clear?”

William nodded. “Yes, Clayton.”

His eyes narrowed. “I think it is past time you start addressing me as ‘my lord.’ After all, every vampire in London shall do so at the end of this fortnight. Don’t you agree?”

The other vampire bowed subserviently. “Yes, my lord.”

As William departed, Clayton finally allowed himself to smile. Soon London would be his and Rafael Villar would rue the day he insulted him.

* * *

Cassandra’s smile lit up like the dawn when Rafe and Anthony stepped into the laboratory. “Oh, good. You’re here. Everything is ready, so please be seated.”

As Rafe removed his shirt and complied, he was nearly struck dumb by the heat of her gaze on his bared flesh. Could she possibly want him as much as he desired her?

“Anthony tells me only three operations are left,” he finally managed, throat dry.

“If everything goes as planned, yes.” She nodded and fetched two bottles from her pharmacopeia. “However, they will all be far more extensive and painful so I want to attempt to render you unconscious.”

Rafe frowned. “I am not certain I like that idea.” Not only did he loathe the thought of being placed in such defenseless circumstances, but being unconscious would also mean that he wouldn’t be able to look at Cassandra or feel her touch.

Anthony met his gaze and removed a pistol from his belt. “Her ladyship discussed this strategy with me. I agree that her plan is wise. However, I am prepared should there be any trickery and she tries to harm you.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes and poured a measure of laudanum into a spoon. “Open wide, Villar.”

He complied reluctantly, wrinkling his nose at the cloying smell of the medicine. It tasted even worse. And before he could recover from that, Cassandra held out the cloth soaked with ether.

Rafe inhaled deeply and grimaced at the pungent fumes. “Ah, Querida, an angel of mercy you are not.”

The wicked woman actually chuckled. Yet she had never looked more beautiful than at home in her lab in a way he had never been in this house, doing what she loved and was born to do. And somehow, despite wielding sharp, cruel instruments and drawing blood in the most gruesome fashion, Cassandra remained poised and elegant, every inch a countess.

He stared in mute wonder. He was unworthy to be in her presence, yet here she was, touching him, healing him.

As Cassandra leaned forward to dab at his arm with a hot cloth, Rafe reached up to touch her hair, but then the effects of the ether and laudanum sank in, drowning his senses in a sea of blackness.

When he awoke, he was lying on the bed on his stomach and Cassandra was kneeling beside him. Her hands were working the most exquisite magic on his shoulder.

He met her gaze in the mirror across from the bed and gave her a lazy smile. “Did you carry me up here yourself, Querida?”

She laughed, the sound low and throaty. “Anthony helped. I thought it best to massage you now, before the muscles stiffen up.” She paused and brushed his hair away from his face with aching tenderness. “How are you feeling?”

Rafe hardened at the gentle, yet sensuous touch. Did she know what she was doing? “Quite euphoric, actually. However, I believe the effects of the medicine have yet to wear off.” The muscles in his hand spasmed suddenly, sending sharp bolts of pain up his forearm. He hissed. “I spoke too soon.”

To his dismay, Cassandra removed her hands and rose from the bed. Rafe watched her take a pipe from the end table. The strong, green smell of cannabis filled the air. He took the pipe, lit the substance, and inhaled the smoke carefully.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked as he lay back down, already relaxing from the herb.

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