by Brooklyn Ann
“Nonsense, my lord. It is my duty to do what is best to ensure the safety of our people as much as it is yours. And I believe that you are the one who can keep us safe. You will need all the strength you can muster to establish control and deal with these current issues, and I will do all I can to give you that strength.” Anthony shrugged. “Besides, the countess says there are only to be three more operations. I am certain that I shall not perish before that.”
A lump formed in Rafe’s throat at his third’s loyalty. “Very well. I will do all I can to see that you are fairly rewarded for your incredibly noble sacrifice.”
As he followed Anthony up to the lab, Rafe concluded that he had to find a vampire willing to save Cassandra. And as he beheld her in the laboratory arranging her instruments, Rafe hoped he was worthy of all that Cassandra and Anthony had done for him.
Thirteen
17 October 1823
Clayton ground his teeth in fury. How dare Villar dismiss him like he was a mere underling? And how dare the cripple publicly insult and humiliate him as well? His face burned as he remembered the looks of shocked amusement on the vampires’ faces when Rafael had threatened to strip him of his title. Villar would pay for his actions. Oh yes, he would pay.
He growled as someone knocked on his door. Would he have any peace this night? Cursing under his breath, he lumbered out of his comfortable chair, vowing to slaughter the interloper if the interruption was not worthwhile.
William stood shivering on the stoop.
Clayton sighed. “I thought I told you not to come here unless I summon you. It’s dangerous for us to be seen together until my plans are set.”
William looked up sullenly. “Villar threw me out.”
For a moment, all Clayton could do was stare in dumbfounded rage. First Villar dismissed him and now William? It could not be a coincidence. When he found his voice, the questions came rapid-fire. “Why in the hell would he do that? What did you do? Does he know about my plan?”
“I didn’t do anything,” William protested. “And I daresay that if he knew of our plan, he would have arrested me. He may suspect something, but I think he was merely in a foul temper and unjustly took it out on me. Truly it is a relief to be out from under his thumb, no longer at the mercy of his foul moods.”
Clayton lifted his gaze heavenward. “Good God, you are such a fool. If you didn’t do anything, then he certainly must suspect something. You’re lucky he must not have any conclusive proof.”
William gave him a vapid smile. “May I stay with you then?”
“Of course not, you idiot! Villar’s suspicions would definitely be confirmed if I took you in.” He stopped as another thought came on panicked wings. “And he may have set spies on your trail. You weren’t followed, were you?”
William shook his head emphatically. “No, I am certain of it. I always check when I come here, just as you told me. I wasn’t Changed yesterday, you know.”
“Well, you certainly behave as if you were at times.”
The other vampire ignored his words and looked over his shoulder at the blazing hearth with naked longing. “Could I at least come in for a spot of brandy?”
Clayton sighed and looked over William’s shoulder, opening his senses to detect other vampires. “Very well, but you must be on your way soon.”
William followed him inside eagerly, rushing to the fireplace to warm his hands. “I am ever in your debt.”
“I know,” Clayton said plainly as he poured another glass of brandy.
The vampire took it gratefully, gulping down a large swallow. “It was rather unsporting of Villar to toss me out in the cold without enough blunt to pay for a decent room.”
The hint was pathetic in its obtuseness. More likely you squandered your wages on opium, like the weak-willed addict you are, Clayton said silently. Aloud he said, “I could give you some money for a room.”
William grinned in triumph that his hint had been taken. “You will?”
“Yes, but you will have to earn it.” Clayton pulled a square of parchment from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to William. “This is a list of the London vampires who have pledged their loyalty for my cause. I need you to seek them all out and tell them to come to my meeting place three nights hence.”
“Very well.” Obviously the lazy son of a bitch was holding back a groan as he took the list.
Clayton reached into his other pocket and pulled out a few banknotes. “And this”—he pulled out one more—“is for you to stay away from me until our next meeting. Are we clear?”
William nodded. “Yes, Clayton.”
His eyes narrowed. “I think it is past time you start addressing me as ‘my lord.’ After all, every vampire in London shall do so at the end of this fortnight. Don’t you agree?”
The other vampire bowed subserviently. “Yes, my lord.”
As William departed, Clayton finally allowed himself to smile. Soon London would be his and Rafael Villar would rue the day he insulted him.
* * *
Cassandra’s smile lit up like the dawn when Rafe and Anthony stepped into the laboratory. “Oh, good. You’re here. Everything is ready, so please be seated.”
As Rafe removed his shirt and complied, he was nearly struck dumb by the heat of her gaze on his bared flesh. Could she possibly want him as much as he desired her?
“Anthony tells me only three operations are left,” he finally managed, throat dry.
“If everything goes as planned, yes.” She nodded and fetched two bottles from her pharmacopeia. “However, they will all be far more extensive and painful so I want to attempt to render you unconscious.”
Rafe frowned. “I am not certain I like that idea.” Not only did he loathe the thought of being placed in such defenseless circumstances, but being unconscious would also mean that he wouldn’t be able to look at Cassandra or feel her touch.
Anthony met his gaze and removed a pistol from his belt. “Her ladyship discussed this strategy with me. I agree that her plan is wise. However, I am prepared should there be any trickery and she tries to harm you.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes and poured a measure of laudanum into a spoon. “Open wide, Villar.”
He complied reluctantly, wrinkling his nose at the cloying smell of the medicine. It tasted even worse. And before he could recover from that, Cassandra held out the cloth soaked with ether.
Rafe inhaled deeply and grimaced at the pungent fumes. “Ah, Querida, an angel of mercy you are not.”
The wicked woman actually chuckled. Yet she had never looked more beautiful than at home in her lab in a way he had never been in this house, doing what she loved and was born to do. And somehow, despite wielding sharp, cruel instruments and drawing blood in the most gruesome fashion, Cassandra remained poised and elegant, every inch a countess.
He stared in mute wonder. He was unworthy to be in her presence, yet here she was, touching him, healing him.
As Cassandra leaned forward to dab at his arm with a hot cloth, Rafe reached up to touch her hair, but then the effects of the ether and laudanum sank in, drowning his senses in a sea of blackness.
When he awoke, he was lying on the bed on his stomach and Cassandra was kneeling beside him. Her hands were working the most exquisite magic on his shoulder.
He met her gaze in the mirror across from the bed and gave her a lazy smile. “Did you carry me up here yourself, Querida?”
She laughed, the sound low and throaty. “Anthony helped. I thought it best to massage you now, before the muscles stiffen up.” She paused and brushed his hair away from his face with aching tenderness. “How are you feeling?”
Rafe hardened at the gentle, yet sensuous touch. Did she know what she was doing? “Quite euphoric, actually. However, I believe the effects of the medicine have yet to wear off.” The muscles in his hand spasmed suddenly, sending shar
p bolts of pain up his forearm. He hissed. “I spoke too soon.”
To his dismay, Cassandra removed her hands and rose from the bed. Rafe watched her take a pipe from the end table. The strong, green smell of cannabis filled the air. He took the pipe, lit the substance, and inhaled the smoke carefully.
“Where does it hurt?” she asked as he lay back down, already relaxing from the herb.
He shifted so he could raise his other arm to point. “Here.”
She scooted up further on the bed and pressed the leather ball into his bad hand. “Squeeze,” she commanded softly but sternly.
As he complied, she put firm pressure on the knotted muscle in his forearm, working at the tension with a rhythmic motion. Rafe didn’t know what felt more wonderful, her ministrations on his arm or the light brush of her breast against his shoulder.
“Now, release.”
His grip loosened on the ball and a measure of tension in his hand bled away. Cassandra then pressed harder on the knot, deepening the pressure…and the pleasure.
“Squeeze again.”
I could think of something much better to squeeze, he told her silently. As if to torment him, her breast pressed more firmly against his shoulder. Rafe’s fist clenched on the ball as he warred with the urge to roll over and pull her into his arms.
She had him repeat the action four more times. The tightness and pain had nearly vanished.
“Your magic has prevailed again, Querida,” he whispered, eyeing her in the mirror.
“I told you before, it isn’t magic,” Cassandra retorted before she noticed the teasing glint in his eye. Softening her tone, she added, “Besides, even with the cannabis and massage, the pain will return, though I have a few ideas on how to combat it and speed your healing.”
He raised a brow at her determined tone. “Oh, you do?”
“Yes. First off, you need rest. I know you have been busy looking after your people, but I think it would do you more good to allow yourself enough respite to heal.” As if to fortify the temptation of her words, her hands trailed up and down his back in a decadently soothing caress. “Therefore, you will feed from me tonight so that you may stay home.”
Rafe sucked in a breath at the thought of once more tasting her sweet blood. Her heady scent of rose petals and woman made his lust rise to a furious peak. “That sounds tempting… Are your other ideas so pleasant?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said ruefully, continuing to rub his back and shoulders. “I’ve also brought up more laudanum.”
He groaned. “I was afraid you would save the worst for last.”
“Well, as I said, you need to rest,” she said firmly. “The medicine will help you sleep.”
Ah, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. Unfortunately, her logic was more than inarguable. “These are the doctor’s orders then?”
“They are.”
Rafe sighed. “Very well, I suppose I have no choice.”
“Which would you like first?”
You, Rafe said silently. The truth of that word rang loudly in his mind, body, heart, and whatever remained of his blackened soul. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in the world. And he was beginning to suspect and hope she wanted him too.
But taking her wouldn’t be right, not when her future was so uncertain and not when he was still a cripple, unable to hold her completely and worship her body in the manner she deserved.
“Rafe?” Her sultry voice brought him back to the present.
“The laudanum,” he rasped. With the magnitude of his arousal, there was no way he’d be able to resist her once his fangs were in her neck, pain or no pain. Being drugged was the only solution.
Cassandra’s welcome warmth left the bed. Rafe rolled on his side and leaned up on his elbow to watch her. She froze as her hand closed over the brown bottle on the end table, green eyes darkening to molten jade as they swept across his bare chest. Her pulse rose along with the scent of feminine arousal. It was all Rafe could do not to lick his lips.
As she poured a spoonful of the vile liquid, he concentrated on the curve of her breasts above her velvet gown. With such a delightful distraction, the medicine was far more palatable than the previous occasion.
Still, Rafe could not conceal his grimace as he swallowed.
“I know it is bitter,” she whispered sympathetically.
He reached up and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, savoring her softness. “Yes, but soon I shall wash it down with something sweet. Turn around so I may help you with your gown before the laudanum takes effect.”
“Yes, that would be most practical.” She complied and gave him a coy glance over her shoulder as he undid the buttons. “I see you are able to use both hands now.”
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 tho
ught 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.
