Bitten By the Earl (Lords of the Night Book Two)

by Sandra Sookoo

  The marquess narrowed his gaze. “I can see now that he has tainted you, changed your way of thinking.” He spat upon the ground.

  “I should hope so.” She worked to control her breathing, but too much anxiety and fear still rolled through her. “That’s what love does, Oliver. It changes a person and helps them look at life from a different angle. It’s growth.”

  “Then I have no choice but to kill you too.” With a cry of pure rage, he charged.

  “Elizabeth!” Rafe’s cry of warning echoed in the quiet of the night.

  God, forgive me. She planted her feet, squared her shoulders, and then squeezed the trigger.

  Bang!

  Smoke rose from the nose of the pistol. The acrid scent of spent gunpowder wafted to her nose. Oliver’s eyes rounded in surprise. He laid a hand to his chest were blood pumped from a gaping hole near his heart. Elizabeth’s arms shook with strain. She dropped the pistol as the marquess fell to his knees. Accusation shadowed his expression. He opened his mouth. Blood dribbled from his lips to soil the pristine whiteness of his cravat.

  Finally, he slumped, face forward, onto the ground, and he didn’t move.

  “Rafe.” Spent and shaking from the cold and terror, Elizabeth staggered through the snow. She dropped to her knees beside him. He didn’t stir. There was no time to worry about the consequences of killing a prominent peer. “Please hold on.” Her heart broke into tiny shards for with each second, he was slipping away. Not knowing what else to do, she shifted her position and gently maneuvered until she could rest his head in her lap.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered, his tone so ragged it was only a matter of time before he slipped away permanently. “You found me. I… never had any doubt.”

  “Shh.” She finger-combed the damp, stringy hair from his forehead. “Oh, Rafe, I am so sorry.” Her eyes welled with tears. Why did their last moments together have to happen in such a wretched place? “I had no idea what sort of a man Lord Rockingham was, that he wanted you all along for his hideous, sick game, and I gave you into his care. For that there is no excuse.” Merciful heavens, she’d saved her brother too this night. Almost beside herself by the sight of the blood he’d lost, she tore strips from her dress and petticoat with quick, methodical movements and then pressed the fabric to his wound, hoping to stem the scarlet tide. “Donovan will arrive soon. All will be well.” But a tear fell to her cheek, for she knew the platitude was useless.

  “No.” Rafe grabbed her free hand and held her palm against his cheek. He stared up into her face, his dear hazel eyes clouded with pain and sorrow. “You know as well as I do that this is the end.” He tried to laugh but it was a horrible, weak sound. “My wounds have taken a toll. I haven’t fed for days. My supernatural healing isn’t strong enough to help me.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t talk. Save whatever power you still have.” I cannot lose him, not now!

  “I must say this, before…” He clutched her hand tighter. “I am dying.” Rafe turned his head and kissed her palm. “So cold.” He dropped her hand, but kept holding her gaze. “I love you, Elizabeth. Thank you for caring enough to do what I could not—kill Rockingham.” His laughter was a gruesome, rasping noise. “I suppose your reputation is now as tarnished as if you were cursed yourself.” He grinned, though it was lopsided, and revealed his fangs.

  “No!” Panic surged through her body. After all this time, after everything she’d shared with him, she realized it had been him all along. She loved him. Nothing else mattered, and she refused to lose him. “I’ve wasted so much time,” she whispered, her stomach cramping with worry. Elizabeth pressed a kiss to his fevered forehead. A tear fell to his cheek. “This is all because of me, and I must fix it.”

  “No.” He shook his head and his eyelids fluttered.

  There was only one thing that would save him—or at least give him half a fighting chance until his strength could restore and his body could heal. She knew it and so did he, but damn him, he was too much a gentleman to ask. As hope rose in her chest, she nodded. “Rafe, you must feed. On me. Quickly, before you’re too far gone.” She shoved up the sleeve of her gown and rested her wrist on his lips. “Take what you need from me.” No fear was present this time. Not anymore. She wanted him—all of him—his beast included, for the vampire was part of the man.

  Please, God, don’t let me have realized too late…

  “It won’t be enough.” Rafe pushed her arm away.

  “It will give you time until help arrives.” Damn vampire. Elizabeth again fit her wrist to his mouth. “We will talk about saving you more completely after that.”

  A faint smile curved his lips, and the old light of humor lit his tired, pain-clouded eyes. “You are a marvel.” He locked his gaze with hers. Hunger crowded his darkened depths. “You’re certain?”

  “I am.” Never had she been more sure of anything. It had just taken her an inordinate amount of time to see it. In confidence, she nodded and her heart pounded. “Please, take sustenance, and when Donovan comes, I’ll instruct him to bring you to our house.”

  He licked at the pulse point on her wrist. Flutters filled her belly while awareness raced over her. She shivered with more from just the cold. “Take me to my club. There I can—”

  “No.” Emboldened by her feelings, she shook her head so vigorously that the remainder of her tresses tumbled from their pins. “No,” she repeated. “From now on, if you must feed, you will do it from me. Do you understand, Lord Devon?” Her voice shook, but she stared into his face, daring him to contradict her.

  Amusement and adoration twinkled in his eyes. He nodded, albeit shallowly. “I believe I do, Lady Elizabeth.” Yet there was still a question there, and she more firmly pressed her wrist to his mouth. “I will be as gentle as I can.”

  She snorted. “Tenderness has its place, but so does forcefulness. Didn’t we already speak about that?” she asked softly as she stroked the fingers of her free hand through his hair.

  “We did indeed.”

  “Over the course of my relationship with you, I’ve realized something.” Time was of the essence, but she had to say this, just in case he didn’t… well. She had to think positive. “Kissing and cuddling with you makes me feel loved. I adore that, but powerful, naughty, rough couplings with you makes me feel wanted. And there is no replacement for that. Please survive, because I desire all of it from you.”

  “Ah, Lizzy.” The eye that wasn’t swollen closed flared with renewed red intensity. As he dragged the tips of his fangs over the skin of her inner arm in the search for the spot he needed, and she shivered. She steeled herself, not welcoming the pain but willing to give him anything he wanted if only to keep him with her. Then Rafe opened his mouth wide. The fangs pricked her skin, and she muffled the cry she wanted to utter. He bit down hard, puncturing her skin, sinking those deadly fangs deep into the underside of her forearm.

  “Oh!” Elizabeth’s world exploded into frissons of white and golden light. A dull roar filled her ears. She fell into the most exquisite sensations of pleasure, and as she slumped over his body, he steadily suckled at her arm. The faint tinkle of harness bells reached her location and she closed her eyes.

  We’re safe now.

  The world faded away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  December 24, 1815

  Rafe woke to darkness. Disoriented, he glanced about, and when he stirred, faint aches deep in his muscles betrayed the fact he’d engaged in some sort of strenuous activity, but he couldn’t remember what had happened to him. As his eyes grew used to his surroundings, the obvious shapes of curtains at windows and the anemic illumination of moonlight through a balcony door sank into his consciousness.

  I am in Elizabeth’s rooms. Why?

  He wracked his memory, but the reason didn’t surface, and he gave up the attempt as a mild headache came over him. Content to lie there in the dark, he drifted into sleep once more, but the niggling awareness that he wasn’t alone poked into him. Again, he
opened his eyes, and when he turned his head to the right, shocked plowed through him to find Elizabeth pressed against his side. Clad in lace and silk as she’d been the last time he’d found himself in this very chamber, but now her hair lay unbound and tangled about the pillow and over his shoulder, fragrant with the scent of wild roses.

  A shoulder that retained a dull ache, like a memory, well on its way to fading.

  What the devil had happened to him, and how had he come to this pass with Elizabeth in this bed beside him?

  He stretched with abandon, for his limbs were restlessness from inactivity. The bedclothes rasped over his naked skin and he paused as confusion took hold. Rafe plunged a hand beneath the warmth of the sheets and ivory damask duvet, and he stifled a quick chuckle. Where had his breeches come from and how had he been clad in them? For that matter, what had become of his other clothes?

  The soft mewl from a kitten at the foot of the bed shattered the silence. Oddly comforted by the cat’s presence, when he slipped his left arm about Elizabeth’s still sleeping form, her warmth sank into him. Flashes of his ordeal came to his mind. Kidnapped by Rockingham. Left by himself for days in a filthy room over a tavern in the Dials. Beaten and angry. Trapped as the beast. Given other clothes because he’d shredded his own.

  His breathing came in fast pants while his pulse pounded hard.

  Rockingham throwing him in the streets, telling him to feed, to kill. The beast all too willing, but Rafe had exercised massive control, and the vampire came to heel. Those people didn’t deserve such a fate. The marquess’ anger and the intent to purge everyone abnormal or supernatural or poor. More beatings. Being shot. Excessive weakness. Elizabeth arriving in Hyde Park. She’d killed the marquess without hesitation, squeezed that trigger as if she’d been born to it.

  Rafe couldn’t catch his breath as the pictures swam through his mind’s eye.

  I fed on her. While he’d lay dying and in pain, she’d given him permission to feed, and he’d gladly taken her gift. Even now the sweet, slightly spicy taste of her blood lingered on his palate. When had she decided to accept him? His chest tightened at the thought that she finally had, and he’d missed it.

  How long had he been unconscious?

  Beside him, Elizabeth murmured something unintelligible. She awakened and lifted her head. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  Rafe didn’t quite miss the irony of that. For whatever reason, he’d been given a second chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it. “What day is it?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve.” Her voice, smoky and graveled from sleep, sent awareness prickling over him. His length hardened.

  “How did I get here?” He didn’t wish to move for fear she’d vanish and this might prove naught but a dream. The kitten, hearing his voice, bounded up the bed, onto his chest to lick his chin. He patted its furry head and grinned when the animal began to purr. Yes, it was good to be back.

  “After you fed, and once I came to, Donovan arrived, but you had slipped into unconsciousness.” Her voice shook from the force of emotion he couldn’t quite see in her gaze, for she kept it focused on his chest. “He brought us here four nights ago.”

  Bloody hell. “I’ve been out that long?”

  “Yes.” She nodded and finally she peered into his eyes, but kept a hand on his chest as she rose onto an elbow. “You were near death, even after the feeding. It took constant vigilance to keep you in this world, but we did it, and you slowly healed.”

  “How? In order for a vampire to tap into his regenerative properties, he must…”

  “Feed.” She nodded and the ends of her hair brushed his skin. The sensation was amazing, but it distracted the kitten, who batted at the strands. Rafe scooped up the ball of fur and set it down on the floor before turning once more to Elizabeth. “You did. On me every night, but you didn’t fully wake during those sessions.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know if you’d live, but I refused to give up.”

  “My poor girl.” He allowed himself a few minutes to digest the news. “Donovan assisted? It was his idea to bring me here?” That he couldn’t wrap his head around.

  “Yes.”

  “He agreed to the feedings?”

  “He didn’t know, or if he did, he was wise enough not to mention it.” Her soft laughter flowed over him and further worked to ramp his need. Perhaps his body wasn’t as broken as he’d thought. “He was extremely concerned for you.”

  After everything, the duke had been there for him. Warmth filled his chest. “Why are you here with me? For that matter, why am I in your rooms?”

  She combed the hair from his forehead. “I wanted to monitor your care, and I didn’t wish to give you over to the club.”

  “Your brother agreed to such a thing?” It felt as if he were in a dream, for the facts were extremely far-fetched.

  “No.” Her kissable lips curved with a grin, and he fell in love with her all over again. “I argued, of course. He is not my keeper, and in the end, he relented.”

  “I am sorry I missed that confrontation.” Though he could just imagine it. Rafe drew abstract designs upon her back with a fingertip, and when she shivered, he smiled. “I should be dead.”

  “Fate is not my keeper either.” She leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his lips. The heat of her lingered upon his skin. “I refused to let you die, not when I’ve finally discovered how much you mean to me.”

  Another wave of shock moved through him. “You conquered your fear of my beast.” He wanted to say so much more, but held back. Knowing she cared humbled him.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” When she fixed her attention once more on his chest, he lifted his arm, fit a finger beneath her chin and raised her face until their gazes connected. “Why, Lizzy?” he asked in a barely-there whisper. “I need to hear the words.” He’d waited a lifetime for them.

  “I love you.”

  A choir of angel song couldn’t have sounded as sweet as that simple phrase. “How? When?” He felt like a nodcock asking so many monosyllabic sentences.

  She cupped his cheek, stroked gentle fingertips along the side of his face, his stubble-covered jaw, his neck, his shoulder. Everywhere she touched tingled with revitalization. “The afternoon at the British Museum I knew for certain.”

  “But you still chose Rockingham over me.” He frowned. Something was amiss.

  “No.” She rested her hand upon his chest and he lost the ability to breathe. “I was forced by him to accept his suit. I sacrificed myself to keep you safe, for he’d threatened to kill you, expose your secret, but after everything, he lied, and I forfeited time with you for nothing.” Her voice held a hard edge that Rafe never wanted to provoke from her again. “I am done letting fear rule my life, for I want you more, come what may.”

  “Ah, my dearest.” Emotions cycled through him: shock, pride, confusion, but he focused on the strongest one, the one that mattered the most—love. “I am not fully human.” Unshed tears clogged his throat for how much she’d given him, how much she’d overcome.

  How much they both had.

  “I know.” In the faint moonlight, her eyes sparkled.

  “I am still a vampire and will remain so for quite a while.” He wanted no reservations this time.

  “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

  It couldn’t be true, this simple acceptance and love, could it? Still, he had to make sure. “If I hurt you when I am the beast…”

  “You won’t.” Elizabeth again stroked the side of his face. “Not now. Not anymore. I know this deep in my heart, and so do you.” She shrugged out of the enticing wrapper while still holding his gaze. “Do you wish to continue talking? I have waited long days for you to return to me, and I won’t wait another.” She swept her regard over him. “If you are well enough?”

  For her, he would always rise to the challenge. “I feel as if I could do anything right now. No doubt I will fully heal in another day.” Rafe pounced, pinning her between the bed and
his body. Her squeal of delight tightened his shaft. “Before we renew our carnal acquaintance, I must ask—”

  “Yes.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  He snorted in amusement. “Yes, what?” Perhaps he wasn’t quite as healed as he thought.

  “Yes, I will marry you.” Elizabeth dropped a kiss to his chin. “As soon as you can arrange it.” Her smile was blinding, and his heart swelled.

  “Are you forcing my hand, love?” Rafe swept his fingers down her spine and when he came to the sweet curve of her backside, he pulled her tighter against his growing manhood. Damnation, but she felt good.

  “No, for you want this life as much as I do.”

  Life, forever, with her, the woman who’d always remained out of reach. Was it any wonder why he loved her to distraction? “That I do.” On the verge of every dream he’d had coming true, he trembled. “I love you.” He kissed her so thoroughly that his mind spun. Dizzy, he pulled away with a grin. “You’ll make a wonderful countess.”

  “I think so too, for I do have knack for managing people.”

  “Absolutely.” He peppered her lips with baby-fine kisses. “You are a natural-born leader, and I am incredibly grateful to have you by my side.”

  There was no more talking, for he communed with her by way of kisses. Soon, they were both naked, and he explored every inch of her skin with lips, tongue and teeth until they both panted and moaned with need. When she returned the favor, Rafe’s hold on his control slipped.

  He tumbled her to the mattress once more, and when she was on her back, he took her hands in his, pressing them to the pillow above her head. “Ah, Lizzy, I lose myself in you entirely too quickly,” he murmured as he fit the tip of his aching length to her slick opening. “I never knew I was hungry until I tasted you—quite literally.”

  “That is as it should be.” Elizabeth wriggled her hips and he slid inside her soothing heat, inch by inch until he was fully seated. Her moan of appreciation blended with his. “I don’t wish for a man who doesn’t match my passions.”