by Brooklyn Ann
As anticipated, the blood was tepid and bland compared to Cassandra’s heady vintage. Rafe continued to drink until his hunger was sated. Then he released his victim and turned back to Cassandra. She did not recoil in terror or even flinch. Instead, she continued to jot down her observations in that infernal journal.
Now she peered at him over her quill as if he were a specimen in her laboratory. “How much blood did you take?”
Rafe sighed at her clinical tone. “A trifle more than a pint. Now I shall release him.”
The scratching noise of the quill returned as the man’s eyes regained awareness. Rafe handed him a guinea.
“Bless ye, guv’!”
Rafe stepped back before the man could grasp his lapels and grovel.
“Fascinating,” Cassandra said as he led her out of the alley. “You do this every night?”
He nodded curtly, exasperated with her tenacity. “Usually twice. Do you think you could handle doing this every night for the rest of eternity?”
Her eyes widened before she quickly looked away. At last he’d cracked her composure. “I am…uncertain. I suppose I would have to do whatever is necessary…and…it doesn’t seem as if it causes lasting harm.” She fidgeted with her journal and quill. “In fact, it’s much like bleeding a patient, which doctors have prescribed for centuries.”
Irritating though it was, Rafe admired her rationality in the face of such dire prospects.
She looked up at him with intensity that stole his breath. “Do you mean you’ve decided my fate?”
Something raw and harsh knotted in his stomach. “I have not.”
God help him, but he was already resigned to the fact that he didn’t want to kill her.
* * *
Cassandra’s curiosity rose with every new detail Rafe revealed about his world. “How did you become a vampire?” she whispered after making certain the streets were empty.
For a moment he looked as if he wouldn’t reply, but then he answered. “My tío, my uncle, Changed me…or rather, my great-great-uncle, three centuries ago. He wanted a wise Villar to always be around to watch over the family while he had to be away from the country.”
“You still have family?” She gasped, feeling a twinge of envy at his nod. When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “How were you Changed?”
“He drank my blood until I was nearly drained, then he cut his wrist and I drank it back.”
She stoked the feather of her quill against her chin. “So the catalyst is in the blood. Is that what you will do to me then?”
A dark, chilling expression crossed his features before he spoke. “We will discuss that later. It is time for me to present you to my people. Remove your scarf. I must blindfold you.”
Cassandra froze with her journal half stuffed into her reticule. “How am I supposed to make my way through these dark streets? I can hardly see as it is.”
Rafe gave her a long, considering look. “I will carry you.”
“But your arm—” She broke off as pained anger slashed across his harsh features.
“Remove the scarf.” His voice promised dire consequences if she didn’t comply.
With shaking hands, she closed her reticule and obeyed. Rafe snatched the length of wool from her grasp and looped it around her head with inhuman speed. His fingers curled in her hair as he deftly knotted the fabric with one hand, making her shiver. Before Cassandra could process her sudden blindness, Rafe’s arm snaked around her waist, lifting her to rest against his hip.
“Wrap your legs around me and hold tight,” he whispered into her ear.
Surely he cannot be serious! The protest died in her throat as he hitched her up higher. The world tilted, and before she realized what she was doing, her thighs grasped his waist as if she belonged there. Immediately, Rafe burst forward with the speed of a pistol shot. Cassandra shrieked and flung her arms around his shoulders, burying her face against the side of his neck as if she could retreat from the biting wind. Surely no human was made to travel at such unnatural speed. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying he wouldn’t drop her.
Awareness of their intimacy flooded her senses. His skin is like rough satin, an inner demon mused. Rafe’s spicy scent and his heat seeped into her body like forbidden confections. His hair brushed across her fingers, impossibly soft. The myriad of new sensations made Cassandra’s heart pound.
Rafe stopped so abruptly that her stomach lodged in her throat. “We’re here. It is best if you do not speak.”
He set her down, bracing his good hand on her shoulder while she regained her balance. Once her dizziness fled, Cassandra reached for the blindfold.
“Not yet,” he commanded. “Take my hand and I will lead you.”
She took a deep breath and reached for him. I will not be afraid. As his strong fingers laced with hers, she could almost believe that declaration—until the ominous creak of a heavy door sent her pulse to her throat.
“There will be a lot of steps. Just walk slowly.” Rafe squeezed her hand and gently led her forward. “I will not let you fall.”
Carefully, Cassandra proceeded. I will not be afraid.
For an eternity, the only sound was her boots echoing on the cold stone stairs. Then, whispers and mutters crept into her ears like the voices of sinister specters. The noise gradually escalated, picking and pulling at her nerves until thin tremors shook her.
“One more step,” Rafe said softly.
She felt his fingers gently untying the knot of the scarf. The fabric loosened, and for a moment his touch seemed to linger in her hair. Then the blindfold fell and candlelight blurred in her vision like captive stars.
“Blood drinkers of London…” Rafe’s voice echoed through the chamber in stark command. “As most of you have heard, circumstances have forced me to take a prisoner. This is Lady Cassandra Burton, Dowager Countess of Rosslyn. As Lord of this city, I have brought her here so you may all look upon her, feel my Mark, and know that to touch her is to risk my wrath.”
Cassandra choked back a gasp as the vampires came into view. More than a hundred of them loomed before her, and they did not appear pleased to see her. Glowing eyes and sharp fangs gleamed unnervingly from faces that otherwise appeared human.
Her only consolation was that she and Rafe stood upon a raised dais several feet from the masses.
One of the vampires bared his fangs, making her rethink her safety. The wound on her neck from Rafe’s bite burned. “I’d heard this woman is a vampire hunter. Is it true?”
“It is not.” Rafe’s brows drew together in consternation. “She is a doctor. The reason she was in the cemetery was to collect a corpse for her medical studies.”
Another scoffed. “A female doctor? Surely you didn’t believe that Banbury tale.”
Cassandra couldn’t hold back a snort of indignation. Before she could open her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, Rafe placed a warning hand on her arm.
“Clayton.” Rafe’s voice was calm, yet laden with undercurrents of danger. “Surely you cannot believe that a Lord Vampire would lack the power to discern falsehoods from a mere mortal.” He then addressed the rest of the throng. “Since even my second-in-command has failed to grasp the obvious, I suppose I must inform you that the reason I was forced to imprison her is because she is one of those rare humans whose mind is impervious to our powers.”
Clayton looked away with a petulant frown while the rest dissolved into a cacophony of arguments and rebuttals.
Yet another vampire stood to face Rafe. He had a stump where a hand should be. Had the injury occurred before or after he became a vampire? “Do you mean it does not work on everyone? Why not?”
“Some, like the countess, have such strong and willful minds that they seem to have a natural resistance to hypnosis. Especially if they also possess a massive degree of intelligence,” Rafe explained impatiently.
“Others possess supernatural mental powers similar to ours and thus are able to shield their minds from invasion.”
“Do ye mean witches?” a female vampire inquired in a thick Cockney accent.
Rafe shrugged. “I would not venture to refer to them as such. Most of them, anyway.”
Cassandra’s lips parted in awe at this intriguing information. As discreetly as possible, she unfastened her reticule and withdrew her journal to jot down a few notes. The vampires’ gazes swiveled her way, brows raised in surprise and confusion.
Without looking at her, Rafe commanded, “Put that away, Countess.”
Cassandra flushed and stuffed the journal back into its compartment. Many vampires glared and bared their fangs at her. Clayton’s mouth twisted with palpable scorn.
Without missing a beat, Rafe continued. “In the old days, we either killed such persons on sight or made them one of us. Under the new laws, I had to take Lady Rosslyn as my prisoner and report the incident to the Elders. They have given me a month to weigh the same options. In the meantime, you are all to treat her with the same respect you do each other, because she may be joining our ranks.”
A tendril of warmth curled through her belly at Rafe’s defense, quite at odds with the offhand manner in which he spoke of killing her. His words appeared to have varying effects on the vampires. Many countenances softened. Others remained suspicious, yet nodded in solemn compliance. A few increased their hostility.
“And how is he supposed to keep hold of such a delicious piece with only one arm?” one whispered loudly.
Cassandra’s blood boiled as Rafe flinched almost imperceptibly.
“Would you care to find out just what I can do with this arm?” he snarled at the offender. Turning back to the rest, he continued. “In the unlikely event that she does escape me, I will inform you all. If you catch her, you are to detain her and return her to me.” His eyes glowed like the fires of hell. “She is not to be harmed in any way, or so help you God, you will regret it until your last breath.”
* * *
Rafe stared at Cassandra as he led her back home. Dios, she was brave. Despite facing more than a hundred vampires who would have gleefully drained her dry, she refused to cringe. She’d even had the nerve to pull out her blasted notebook as if they were all her specimens.
Now she walked beside him, spine straight and chin held high, despite the fine tremors that shook her body. As if sensing his scrutiny, she looked up. “Well, that was certainly an interesting experience.”
“You shouldn’t have brought out your journal. Do you not understand how dangerous that was?” Meeting her wide gaze, he sighed. “Never mind. We’ll discuss it later. Right now I want to forget about tonight’s events for at least a while.” He hid a smile at her bravado. “You look pale, Countess.”
Her eyes narrowed in irritation at the name as she stomped up the walk. “That is likely because I did not have a decent meal.”
“That is your own fault. If you hadn’t insisted on following me on my hunt, you would have had one.” Rafe nodded at William as he opened the door. “Please inform Cook that her ladyship is ready for luncheon.”
William bowed, but not before Rafe glimpsed another petulant frown. “Yes, my lord.”
As he removed his coat, he heard William and Anthony sniping at each other, only to be reprimanded by Cassandra’s housekeeper. Rafe gnashed his teeth. The whelp’s insolence was becoming insufferable. He would have to do something about William soon. Unfortunately, there were more pressing matters to deal with.
They entered the dining room and Cassandra settled into her seat with an appreciative sigh, grinning at Anthony as he entered with two steaming trays of food.
Rafe frowned. Her presentation to the London vampires had not gone well. He hadn’t expected anyone to be pleased with the situation, but the level of hostility had been quite unexpected…especially from Clayton.
His scowl deepened. He had a bad feeling about Clayton. Was his second-in-command up to something? If so, he needed to be prepared.
“When can you perform another operation on my arm?” Rafe demanded. The sniping about his malady had been too much to bear. If he were whole again, he could show them.
Cassandra glanced up from buttering her roll. “Well, as long as I have a supply of the…ah”—she looked at Anthony and lowered her voice—“proper medicine, any time shall suffice.”
“Then we will proceed.” Rafe turned to his third-in-command. “Anthony, I will require your services once more.”
Anthony nodded. “Of course, my lord. I am pleased that I am able to help.” He turned to Cassandra with a grin. “Especially since I have the privilege of aiding so lovely a genius in performing her miracles. Tell me, what part of my master will you be hacking up next?”
Cassandra returned his smile and took a sip of wine. “I would like to proceed further this time and make incisions in the medial and lateral portions of the elbow, and then I’d like to try an incision in the carpal area before attempting an inversion in the ulnar side of the wrist.” She picked up her knife and began to slice her steak. “And if I can devise a way to dull your lord’s pain, then I will examine the common flexor tendon.”
Rafe couldn’t help but gape as she popped a chunk of pink meat in her mouth. How could she discuss such gruesome topics at the dining table with such enthusiasm?
To his amusement, Anthony paled visibly, saying, “I’ll leave you to your meal.”
Lady Rosslyn smiled and continued to devour her meal with unladylike haste. Had the evening’s adventure, coupled with his drinking from her, caused her to be overtaxed and starved?
Then she tossed her napkin on the table and stood. “I had best go up to the laboratory and ready my supplies.”
Before anyone could respond, she rang for Mrs. Smythe and ordered a pot of boiling water to be sent up to her laboratory and a bath to the bedchamber afterward.
Rafe shook his head and followed her. No, she wasn’t taxed at all. If anything, she was energized by her work. As he entered the laboratory and watched Cassandra gather up a hazardous bouquet of sharp and cruel instruments, he was reminded that her work was on him.
“If you will oblige me and remove your shirt, I can proceed in examining you,” she said briskly as she donned a snowy white apron.
Rafe eyed her as he unbuttoned the shirt. He could think of far more enjoyable reasons to disrobe. Reasons that would also have her out of her garments and in his arms. He bit back a groan of arousal as her soft hands slid up his forearm and across his bicep, gently probing.
“Amazing.” Her breath teased his cheek. “The atrophy and scarring here are greatly reduced. At this rate, we may have functionality returned to the limb in a matter of weeks!”
Rafe couldn’t help wishing that passion was for him as a man, rather than an experiment. If only he weren’t so ugly. His gaze dropped to his bad arm, studying the diminished scars where Cassandra had cut him. Could she do something about his face? Would she then find him appealing?
His mouth twisted into a scowl of self-loathing at the ridiculous thought. He should be grateful that she had the power to heal his arm. He didn’t need affection. He needed power to protect his people and defeat his enemies. He needed his arm back.
Yet when he looked at her flushed cheeks and lush lips, Rafe couldn’t help but want more. Her beauty must be driving him mad. That was the only logical explanation.
The sound of Anthony’s tread on the stairs made Cassandra jump and snatch her hand away. Had she been thinking of things other than cutting him open?
Anthony entered with a pot of boiling water. “I hope you are not intending to scald him.”
“Certainly not.” Cassandra removed a bottle from her shelf of potions, uncapped it, and poured a measure of pungent liquid onto a cloth. The stench intensified as she brought it to Rafe. “Take this and bre
athe in deeply.”
Rafe frowned. “What is it? It smells foul.”
“It’s ether. I have reason to believe that it will have a numbing effect on your pain.” She grabbed her syringe and gave him a stern look over her shoulder. “Now please do as I say.”
“Yes, Doctor.” He snatched the offending cloth and inhaled the acrid fumes with reluctance as Cassandra washed her hands and surgical instruments in the steaming water.
“Why are you doing that?” Anthony asked. “Those blades look much cleaner than those of the usual sawbones.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “I believe that dirt causes infection. I did an experiment on myself when I was young, where I cut my finger on each hand. For the next week I only washed my right hand to see if it would heal faster if kept clean. My assumption proved correct.”
For some reason, Rafe chuckled at her words. She could be so amusing at times without intending to be. “Did you also inhale this dreadful potion?”
Cassandra nodded and drew Anthony’s blood with her syringe. “I did. As Wakley said, ether did indeed bring me to a state of euphoria. Are you feeling such a sensation?”
Now that she mentioned it, Rafe realized that the room had taken on a shimmering quality, and a ring of light had formed about her head like an angel’s halo. Also, every muscle in his body felt like warm custard. “I believe I am, Querida.”
“Then we may proceed.” Cassandra took her scalpel. “You will have to remain still.”
To his disbelief, Rafe could barely feel the blade cutting into his arm. He looked down at his own bleeding flesh with detached fascination. This was a much larger cut than last time…and Cassandra was carefully prying his flesh apart to look at the mess of muscle and tendons beneath, all the while muttering in her physician’s Greek.
“You’re making me feel as if I am Frankenstein’s monster,” he said.
Cassandra paused. “You shouldn’t take that as an insult. That is my favorite novel. Besides, you’re not a monster. You are a fascinating and powerful being, with natural gifts any human would envy.” She glanced up at him, eyes full of wonder. “You heal so fast that I have to keep cutting you. And your blood coagulates at such an astonishing rate. You’re…amazing.”
