Page 54 of Bite at First Sight

“Thank God, you are taking some action,” Anthony said. “But if no one volunteers—”

“It is not necessary to remind me,” Rafe snarled. “I am perfectly aware that—”

Anthony held up a hand. “What I mean to say is that our kind so often thinks we have eternity. We do not. Just as the humans we once were, we must savor every moment of our existence, for the next could be our last.”

“I had no idea you were so poetic,” Rafe said gruffly. He folded his arms and looked down before Anthony could see how deeply his words had struck him. Cristo, maybe he was going soft. “So…” He trailed off.

“So savor her, while you still can.” Anthony stopped to observe a pair of drunken louts stumbling out of a tavern. “Ah, how convenient. Supper.”

After they fed and returned to Burnrath House, Mrs. Smythe handed him two letters.

Rafe’s heart swelled with hope as he rushed to his study and opened them. His spirits plummeted as he read both refusals. The death clock ticked louder in his mind.

“I will save her. Somehow, I will save her,” he whispered as he burned the letters.

The need to hold Cassandra became a relentless ache. Rafe went straight to the bedchamber. As he headed up the stairs, he willed all of his worries to abate and be replaced with anticipation. For now, it was enough that he would soon spend the day lying beside her.

He opened the door and paused a moment just to enjoy the sight of Cassandra in his bed.

The lamps were extinguished and the fire had burned down to embers. Yet with his preternatural sight, Rafe could see her sleeping form clearly, from the glorious tumble of auburn curls on the pillow to the adorable frown line between her russet brows. Her lush lips pouted enticingly.

He stepped closer…and nearly tripped over a book on the floor. Rafe picked up the novel and frowned. Had she thrown it? It wasn’t like Cassandra to mistreat a book.

A slow smile spread across his lips. She’d been vexed at his departure from the bed. Perhaps she’d even taken it as a failure to seduce him. If only she knew how close she’d come to succeeding.

When Rafe lifted the covers and got into bed, Cassandra made a small, satisfied sound and scooted closer to him. It was all the invitation he needed. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he pulled her into his arms. Instead of killing her, he would take her up on her other invitation. The Elders be damned. As Anthony had advised, he would savor her…thoroughly.

Sixteen

24 October 1823

“No, thank you.” Cassandra waved away the luncheon tray.

Anthony set down the tray anyway. “You must eat, my lady.” Before she could argue again, he left her alone in the dining room.

Cassandra’s stomach churned at the sight of the food. How could she consider eating after Rafe’s apparent rejection last night?

Hot waves of humiliation washed over her like rancid rain. Now he was avoiding her. After brusquely helping her dress, he’d left to seek his evening meal with a curt good-bye. When he returned, he’d gone straight up to his study and spent hours there before leaving again.

She sighed and swirled her spoon in the steaming bowl of watercress soup. Truly, she had only herself to blame. Time and again she’d been counseled that men preferred virtuous ladies. She shouldn’t be surprised that Rafe had been repelled by her wanton attempts to seduce him.

Although he admitted that my offer tempted him, a tiny inner voice whispered. Cassandra shook off the indulgent attempt to soothe her wounded pride. Yes, but he also tacked on a “however,” which renders the statement nothing more than an empty platitude.

And why was she obsessing over unrequited, inconvenient desires when her situation so far had more dire aspects? She was on the precipice of so many unknowns. Surely facing the prospect of eternal life or early death should be more than enough to occupy her thoughts.

Despite such cataclysmic prospects, Rafe’s striking visage, piercing eyes, and sensuous lips refused to leave her mind. Cassandra’s fists clenched at her sides. She had to stop thinking about him. Doing so served no practical use whatsoever.

Lifting her chin with determination, she forced herself to eat a few bites of her meal before retiring to the library. She could not allow her foolish fascination with this vampire to cause her to neglect her studies.

With that in mind, she retired to the Duchess of Burnrath’s old writing room and composed her article on pain remedies for The Lancet.

Once finished, she studied a book on burn treatments, but as she started wondering if certain balms would work on vampires, Rafe’s scarred face once more invaded her mind. Did his burns still hurt? Or were the damaged areas without sensation? How would it feel to run her tongue across that roughened skin?

When he joined her in the library after midnight, it was all she could do to appear composed and indifferent.

Why didn’t he want her? Why did it matter? She thanked God he couldn’t read her mind.

“Would you like to retire upstairs for your treatment?” she ventured carefully, setting down her book. “I think it should continue for at least another few weeks, especially the work with your hands.”

---