Page 48 of Bite at First Sight

Rafe’s jaw clenched as his other hand gave off dull twinges of pain. The cannabis was already wearing off. Still he continued to use his long-neglected fingers. The night would come when that would not hurt at all. He was certain.

Her gown fell to the floor in a midnight-blue pool. Cassandra kicked off her slippers, giving him an enticing glimpse of her shapely legs under her shift. Rafe’s mouth went dry as she climbed back onto the bed and knelt, tilting her head to the side.

“Drink, Lord of London,” she whispered. “Drink and heal.”

Throbbing with hunger, he reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, sending it tumbling down her back. Rafe plunged his hand into the mass, tangling his fingers in her curls. She gasped as he pulled her closer. For a moment he was content to merely hold her, to feel the hot pulse beneath her neck against his lips.

“Rafe…” Cassandra breathed, holding him tighter.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Rafe plunged his fangs into her throat, hardening further at her soft cry. Cassandra’s hot, sweet blood rushed into his mouth, filling him, nourishing him, healing him. His bad arm seemed to vibrate with renewed strength.

Then the laudanum took effect, washing over him in a wave of dizziness. Rafe fell back on the bed, taking Cassandra with him. He couldn’t manage to feel the slightest bit of remorse for that.

When he withdrew his fangs, her eyes fluttered open, yet she did not struggle to extricate herself from his embrace. “How do you feel now?”

“Better, though sleepy.” Which was a good thing for her sake, for if he weren’t drugged, Rafe would have torn off her remaining clothing and been ravaging her at this moment. As it was, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her, not when her ripe lips were inches from his own.

Cassandra yielded with a sigh, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. As his tongue thrust against hers, he knew at last what heaven tasted like.

Reluctantly, he broke away. “I am sorry, Querida.”

“Do not apologize.” She caressed his scarred cheek as if it were beautiful. “I enjoy your kisses.”

He stared in awed disbelief. “Do you?”

“Yes, very much.” She moved closer, molding her body to his. “In fact, I want more. I want—”

As much as he wanted to hear the words, he placed a finger over her lips to silence her. “We will discuss that later.” When I am whole.

As Rafe descended into unconsciousness he focused on Cassandra’s face, which was quickly fading in his dimming vision. Sentimental or not, foolish or not, he couldn’t let her die.

* * *

Clayton slammed his fist on the sideboard with such force that the wood shattered, sending bottles and decanters flying out to clatter to the floor. Hamish cringed as his shoes were soaked with claret.

“What do you mean, she got away? The little bitch was so weak from starvation that she could hardly move!” His eyes narrowed on Hamish, who was nervously scratching at his collar. “Unless…were you feeding her?”

Hamish flushed. “She’d bitten me the last few times when we were, ah, having a tumble. I thought she’d taken a shine to me.”

Clayton shook his head in dumbfounded awe. “Having a tumble? Is that what you call rape? And you actually were foolish enough to believe she’d come to welcome such treatment?” He stalked forward. “You didn’t for a moment consider the fact that she was using you for sustenance and plotting her escape?”

The rogue spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “What can I say? Women are wicked, deceitful creatures.”

“How did she get loose from her shackles?” Clayton inquired in a low, dangerous voice.

“She suggested she’d be better able to pleasure me if she had more liberty to move,” Hamish muttered, staring at the pool of wine soaking into the carpet as if it were of vital importance. “And then she bashed me over the skull with the fire poker and ran off.” Straightening his spine, he looked up at Clayton. “I would have caught her if I hadn’t sensed another vampire nearby. Paul and Francis are hunting for her as we speak, and I am going to join them. We’ll have the wench back in no time.”

Fourteen

20 October 1823

Rafe’s arm twitched as if pricked by a thousand needles. Biting his lip to hold back a hiss of pain, he slowly climbed out of the bed to keep from waking Cassandra. For a moment he stood watching her sleep. Her inquisitive features were relaxed in slumber, the dying embers of the fire casting soft light on her cheeks and giving a muted glow to her hair.

Between surgeries, she’d spent the last three nights massaging him, conversing with him, and kissing him into a juxtaposition of bliss edged with torment that wrenched his conscience like a medieval rack every time she inquired if he’d decided to change her yet. He couldn’t bear to tell her about the Elders’ looming deadline, couldn’t tell her that he couldn’t Change her. Instead, like a coward, he kissed away her questions and held her tighter as if he could keep her safe in his embrace.

The wall clock ticked away, counting down the minutes until her fate had to be decided. Only fifteen nights remained. There had to be something he could do to save her. Closing his eyes, he weighed his meager options. Only two desperate measures remained and it was past time to attempt the first. But now he needed to feed.

Cassandra made a small distressed sound and curled up tighter under the quilt. She was having a nightmare.

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