Page 89 of Bite at First Sight

Rafe looked to Elizabeth.

She regarded the other Lord Vampires with cool confidence. “From what I’ve gathered, Clayton will have nearly as many London vampires behind him. He has also formed alliances with Grimsby, Farnborough, and Liverpool. Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to find out how many vampires each will bring.”

Vincent shrugged. “Those are all small boroughs, thankfully. It seems as though we are fairly evenly matched.”

Rafe lit another cigar as they launched into their battle plans. The discussion continued until nearly dawn.

As Blackpool and Rochester took their leave and vowed to return at the arranged meeting place, Rafe couldn’t hold back his feeling of dread. They had done all they could, yet it didn’t seem like enough.

Lydia seemed to sense his unrest. Before Vincent led her up the stairs, she placed her hand on Rafe’s. “It will be all right. You are much stronger than Clayton, and so are your friends.”

Throat too tight to speak, he nodded.

Once alone, Rafe stood and stretched, rubbing his aching neck. Cassandra dozed on the settee, looking like a wilted flower only far more ravishing. Reverently, he approached the slumbering healing goddess, marveling at how much she’d come to mean to him. He would give up his reign, even his life, for her.

Rafe bent down and kissed her lush lips, overcome with the inescapable need to have her. As her eyelids fluttered open, he stared into her sea-green eyes and whispered a silent prayer. Please don’t let this be the last time.

Thirty

The three rogue vampires watched the messenger leave Burnrath House while glancing fitfully in all directions. Hamish bared his fangs in a savage grin. Clayton had been right. Villar was sending a letter to the Elders. Though they had failed to intercept Villar’s communications with his allies, they would succeed in seeing that this one would not reach its destination.

Hamish looked to his comrades and placed a finger to his lips. The Lord of Blackpool’s retinue flanked the grounds of Villar’s manor, talking among themselves in low voices. The first messenger, an envoy from the Elders, had come and gone with her escort. The rogues had been powerless to stop that.

But they must detain this vampire. It was vital that the Spaniard be made to look a fool in the eyes of their supreme rulers.

Not to mention that if they failed in another task, Clayton may very well renege on his offer to make them legitimate citizens…or worse. Hamish frowned, foreboding gnawing at his gut.

He verified once more that they were downwind from Blackpool’s vampires before motioning Paul and Francis forward. They pursued the slender messenger with predatory stealth and preternatural speed.

They trailed the vampire until he neared the border of the city, where nothing stood but a few ramshackle cottages and stunted trees. Hamish signaled the other rogues, and they were on Villar’s messenger in a flash. Paul pinned the vampire’s arms behind his back while Francis held a knife to his throat.

“Be still or Francis will give ye a red smile and let ye bleed out on the ground,” Hamish growled. “What is yer name?”

The messenger gasped and strained against the blade. “C-Carlisle. Now release me, you filthy rogues!”

“There’s no need to be rude, Carlisle.” Hamish smiled humorlessly. “When Clayton wins the battle and becomes Lord of London, we won’t be rogues any longer, and we will be sure to remind him who was on the wrong side.”

Carlisle hissed as the knife pierced his flesh.

Hamish stepped closer. “Give us the message you carry and we’ll let you run back to your master, though he won’t be able to protect you long.”

Carlisle glared and remained still.

“Do ye want yer throat slit? Paul has a box of matches as well to dispose of your worthless corpse. And yon trees will make excellent kindling.”

Baring his fangs, Carlisle hissed, “All right!”

Paul released his arms and Francis withdrew the knife.

Carlisle thrust the papers into Hamish’s hand. “Intercepting this message will not keep the Elders from learning of Clayton’s treachery for much longer. Furthermore, when Lord Villar hears what you’ve done, the Elders will be the least of your worries.” His haughty gaze raked over them in distaste before he spun on his heel, ready to take off in a blur of speed.

Hamish withdrew a sickle from a strap at his back and plunged it into Carlisle’s spine before he could leave, jerking the blade upward to pierce the vampire’s heart. Paul and Francis seized Carlisle’s wrists and plunged their fangs into his flesh, forcing him down on his knees. Hamish seized a fistful of the vampire’s finely groomed hair before rearing back and striking like a cobra.

When Carlisle was drained dry, Hamish wiped his mouth and turned to Paul. “Do ye still have yer matches?”

* * *

Cassandra awoke on the settee to the sensuous feeling of Rafe’s lips brushing across hers.

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