Bite at First Sight

by Brooklyn Ann

  Anthony entered the library, pale and gasping with exertion. “My lord, Elizabeth is here with urgent news.”

  Rafe looked up from the chessboard and sighed. “Bring her to me.” Meeting Cassandra’s concerned gaze, he attempted a glib smile. “I shall never have any peace here, it seems.”

  “Perhaps the news is good,” she ventured. “Maybe the missing vampire has been found.”

  Her hopeful tone warmed him more than the cheery fire in the hearth. He coughed and looked down at the game lest anyone see how calf-eyed he must appear.

  The door opened and Anthony ushered in Elizabeth. She was tall, regal, and feminine despite her shabby male attire. And she looked terrified.

  “What is it, Elizabeth?” he asked in as gentle a tone as he could manage.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “My lord, I’ve just come from a meeting that Clayton arranged.”

  “Clayton isn’t supposed to hold meetings without clearing them with me first,” Rafe growled. Then it dawned on him. He cursed himself for a fool. “He is plotting an insurrection.”

  Elizabeth nodded and Anthony cursed behind her.

  Rafe sighed and lit a cigar. “How many stand with him?”

  “Nearly half of London, my lord.” She cringed as if expecting to be punished for bearing bad news.

  “But you do not,” he mused aloud, warmed at her loyalty. “That is why you’ve come to warn me.”

  A measure of anxiety left her features before she bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

  “When is he planning to make his move?” He tried to sound unconcerned as he tapped his cigar in his little tray.

  Elizabeth’s voice shook as she replied, “He will issue an official challenge on Guy Fawkes Night.”

  “How terribly gauche. ‘Remember, remember the fifth of November…’” He shook his head. “At any rate, he’s a quick bugger. And a conniving one as well, for the Elders’ deadline would be up on the fourth and all his people would see Cassandra alive and still human.”

  “There is something else you should know,” Elizabeth continued as if reading his mind. “William is with him.”

  A bitter chuckle escaped Rafe. “I should have known.”

  “What are you going to do, my lord?”

  Rafe drew deeply on his cigar and considered the two vampires before him. It was far past time for him to have made this decision. “Well, since both my second- and fourth-in-command have betrayed me, I suppose I had better replace them before I can do anything else. Elizabeth, you have demonstrated sufficient loyalty. Are you willing to serve as my third?”

  Elizabeth sank to one knee and bowed. “I would be honored.”

  Rafe turned to Anthony. “And would you be second?”

  “Of course, my lord.” He bowed as well, eyes sparkling with the smile he tried to conceal.

  Cassandra frowned and shook her head.

  “What is it, Querida?” Surely she would not see fault in his edict.

  “The situation with William,” she said slowly, toying with a chess piece. “I know it sounds strange, but he tried to help me once. Perhaps that was the beginning of his turning against you. I should have mentioned it sooner.”

  Rafe’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Help you how?”

  “He offered to help me escape.” Cassandra’s brows drew together in confusion. “It was very odd. I thought he didn’t like me, but there he was, trying to be helpful.”

  “Oh, he wasn’t trying to help you, Querida.” Rafe’s voice was low and dangerous, betraying his fury. “If you had left my custody, your life would have been forfeit. William wanted to see you dead and me discredited. Likely it was Clayton’s idea. I wish you had told me sooner.” His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. “I would have throttled them both.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “My lord, your hand! When did it get better?”

  Rafe gestured to Cassandra, unable to hide a tender smile as he gazed at her. “When I absconded with this magical healer.”

  The female vampire’s eyes widened. “So she truly is a physician!” Elizabeth turned to face Cassandra. “My lady, you cannot know what this means for our kind. What you have done for our lord is nothing short of a miracle.”

  She turned back to Rafe. “We could have our own doctor! The first one of our kind. Lord vampires around the world and even the Elders themselves would benefit greatly.”

  “You mean vampires have never had their own physicians before?” Cassandra interjected, green eyes wide with fascination.

  “We heal fast and do not suffer from any illness,” Rafe explained, charmed with her inquisitiveness. “Also, not only has a practitioner of medicine never joined our ranks, but we never saw a great need to have one. Though considering that others have surely suffered injuries like mine, it is a great oversight.”

  Elizabeth leaned forward. “Don’t you see, my lord? You must Change her at once! Not only to ensure her safety from Clayton and his allies, but because she could be one of the greatest assets our kind has ever seen!”

  “I would if I could,” Rafe replied almost too softly to hear. His entire soul writhed in miserable self-loathing.

  Cassandra gasped and whirled to face him, eyes wide with fear and accusation. “I beg your pardon?”

  Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean”—he choked out the words, full of burning regret—“that I Changed another only two years ago…and illegally at that.”

  Why had he wasted the strength he’d gathered for centuries just to repay a debt of honor? It seemed so pitiful now.

  The female vampire blinked in outraged disbelief. “Who?”

  “It is best you do not know,” Rafe told her tiredly. “The Elders may get wind of my actions, and I don’t need anyone else implicated in my folly.”

  * * *

  A lump of ice formed in Cassandra’s chest, the chill spreading to pool in her stomach.

  She opened her mouth to say something, she didn’t know what, and all that came out was a feeble squeak.

  “Querida?” Rafe’s voice sounded tinny and far away, as if he were speaking through a long, dark tunnel.

  She averted her face. If she looked at him now, she would cry, and there was no way she would allow such an indignity. The other vampires’ faces blurred in her vision.

  “Anthony,” Rafe said softly. “Take Lady Rosslyn upstairs.”

  The other vampire bowed stiffly, sherry eyes glimmering with pity. “Yes, my lord.”

  Gently, as if assisting an elderly woman, he took Cassandra’s hands and carefully pulled her up from the chair. She wanted to tear away from his grasp, to demand explanations, to rant and rail, but the shock of Rafe’s confession refused to relinquish its paralyzing hold.

  Numb and as empty of will as a discarded toy, she allowed herself to be led away. Only when she was alone in the bedchamber did the tears begin to fall down her face. Cassandra dashed them away with an angry fist, but still they came.

  How could he have led her to believe that he would Change her? How could he have made love to her in this very bed when he’d known he would eventually have to kill her? She hadn’t believed him capable of such monstrous deception. She’d been a fool.

  Cassandra glared down at the massive bed as if the elegant piece of furniture had also betrayed her. Though the bed was now immaculately made with fresh sheets, her traitorous mind called up images of Rafe’s hands and mouth working their dark magic on her naked body. Even worse, the place between her legs pulsed with acute arousal at the memory.

  “I have to escape this place,” she whispered, dread choking her words. “I can’t let him kill me.”

  Despite that dreadful truth, her heart ached so severely that she almost wanted to die. Cassandra frowned as she shook off the macabre thought and clenched her fists. I will not
give him that satisfaction!

  Forcing her mind to cut itself from her tumultuous emotions, she focused instead on how to escape.

  She would have to leave London; that much was for certain. She didn’t think William had lied about everything when he’d offered to aid her escape. Rafe probably could sense her Mark. It would be best to get out of his territory as soon as possible.

  Besides, there was nothing for her in this city anymore. She’d always been an outcast, and now aside from Sir Patrick, she was completely ostracized. Sir Patrick would be willing to take her in, but there was no way she’d put him in danger. Rafe had said if she left this house, her life would be forfeit, along with any who offered her aid. Her fists clenched. Her life was also forfeit if she stayed.

  So, where would she go? Unfortunately, her usually agile mind was drawing a blank—except for haunting images of Rafe’s rare tender smile and memories of his decadent kiss. No! That way lies madness. Closing her eyes, she tried to conjure up a prospective destination.

  Regrettably, none came.

  To her frustration, tears once more threatened. Maybe I’ll just catch any dratted ship and go wherever it takes me. The more she thought about it, the more attractive the idea became. Perhaps it was best that she didn’t have a destination planned. Theoretically, that should make her more difficult to track.

  Cassandra threw open the wardrobe and began seizing gowns and throwing them on the bed. By the time she’d stripped the mahogany relic bare, she was panting in exhaustion.

  Too late she realized that there was no way she’d be able to pack and haul a trunk without the vampires taking notice. Groaning in vexation, she fetched her valise and stuffed it with as many articles of clothing as would fit, along with a few novels.

  Taking a deep breath, she hefted the stuffed valise over her shoulder and tried the door. It was unlocked. Rafe still seemed to trust her, even though he’d betrayed her trust. I must not think of him anymore.

  Squaring her shoulders, Cassandra tiptoed down the corridor as quietly as possible. As she passed her laboratory, her mind and spirit screamed at her not to abandon her precious texts and equipment. Things she’d painstakingly worked for years to acquire. But they would be of no use to her if she was dead.

  Swallowing a lump in her throat, she carefully made her way down the servants’ staircase and out the back door.

  As she left the rear gate reserved for servants and delivery men, Cassandra turned and looked back at the ancient Elizabethan mansion, yet she did not see it. All she could see was the glowing amber of Rafe’s eyes and all she could hear was the warmth in his voice as he called her “Querida.”

  Go back! the lunatic inside her heart called.

  Cassandra ignored its tempting plea and allowed logic to carry her away.

  Nineteen

  “My lord?” Elizabeth’s voice came from far away, as if obscured by thick fog.

  Rafe focused his attention back on his new third-in-command. It was difficult, for the Mark between him and Cassandra was pulsing with searing pain. She was hurting. He longed to go to her, but he did not know what he could say.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said, you do not intend to kill her, do you?” Elizabeth repeated, eyeing him warily.

  He slammed his fist on the table, sending the chess pieces airborne before they clattered to the floor. “No, of course not! I have written letters to every vampire I call friend, asking them to Change her.” Crushing defeat wrenched his soul at his next admission. “Thus far, every reply has been a refusal. But I can’t kill her. I don’t know what to do.”

  Rafe buried his face in his hands. The confession was crippling. He was supposed to be a leader, keeping order among his people, punishing the wicked, and protecting the innocents from harm. Now everything was slipping from his control.

  “Have you told her this?” the vampire prodded. “Does she know that instead of preparing to kill her, you are doing everything in your power to see her live?”

  Rafe’s head jerked up and he stared at her with dawning horror. No, he hadn’t told Cassandra anything of the sort. His pride had restrained him from revealing his legion of failures. What if she believed that he would truly—? He couldn’t finish the thought.

  Elizabeth mistook his expression for one of outrage. “I apologize if I was insolent, my lord. I only say this because she appeared to be awfully distraught by your confession…and so terribly pale, as if she were facing the specter of Death himself.”

  “No, Elizabeth. You are not at all insolent. You are wise.” Laboriously, as if the weight of all of his problems threatened to crush him, Rafe rose from his seat. “I, however, am a fool. Excuse me while I look in on her.”

  As he slowly made his way up the stairs, Rafe racked his mind about how to assure Cassandra. He must make it clear to her that he had no intention of killing her; that much was certain. But other than that, what could he say? What if no vampire agreed to Change her? What then? If he refused to kill her, the Elders would likely send an enforcer to do the deed, then arrest him and possibly execute him.

  Perhaps they could run away together… Rafe dashed away that tiny seed of hope before it could take root. He would be declared rogue then. He may even be hunted down, with a price on his head for disobeying an edict from the Elders. And with his scars and foreign looks, he would be easy to find.

  Rafe’s shoulders slumped in defeat. If Cassandra could not be Changed, he would have to send her away for her own safety. Somewhere far away where she would be less likely to be noticed by other vampires…somewhere on the other side of the world, safe from the Elders’ immediate influence. He’d likely be punished for allowing her escape, but it would be worth it to know she lived.

  The Americas would likely be the best option. He had not been to that vast and untamed land since he was an infant five centuries ago. The vampires there would sense his Mark on Cassandra, but they wouldn’t recognize his identity. Plenty of vampires Marked their mortal descendants out of sentimentality, so they would leave her alone and not think anything of it.

  The thought of never seeing her again made Rafe’s heart contort in agony. He loved her; he knew that now. He loved her intelligence, her boundless inquisitiveness, and her formidable determination in the pursuit of miracles. He loved how she never saw him as a crippled aberration or an object of pity. He loved the way she came into his arms like someone arriving home.

  Because he loved her, he would have to let her go if it became necessary. For her to die would be more than he could bear.

  Still, Rafe clung to a faint wisp of hope that she could be Changed, that the Elders would give him more time…that they could be together…that she could somehow love him too.

  His lips twisted in self-mockery. Doubtless she would laugh if she knew how he felt. No woman in her right mind could love a monster that had cruelly abducted her and put her life in danger. But she didn’t loathe him, and for that incredible gift, he would move heaven and earth to see her safe.

  Rafe paused with his hand on the doorknob. The hand Cassandra had restored to him with her medical magic. Dios, his debt to her was insurmountable.

  He opened the door. “Querida, we must talk.”

  There was no answer.

  “Querida?” He stepped into the room. His gaze lit on the rainbow mess of gowns strewn across the bed and darted to the gaping empty wardrobe.

  Though her Mark still screamed with pain, it was drawing farther and farther away.

  She was gone.

  Rafe’s heart clenched in agony as icy terror coursed through his veins.

  She truly had believed he would kill her. Bitter regret flooded his mind, thick enough to choke on. Why hadn’t he told her the truth? Because of his foolish pride, she was out in the cold London night, placing herself in danger from Clayton and his allies or even a human cutthroat.r />
  Biting back a roar of impotent fury, he rang for Cassandra’s housekeeper.

  “Yes, my lord?” Mrs. Smythe inquired timidly.

  “Lady Rosslyn had a fit of pique, I’m afraid,” he said as civilly as possible. “Please see that these gowns are put back properly…and see that someone dusts her laboratory.”

  Mrs. Smythe bowed, not bothering to hide her perplexed frown. “Yes, Don Villar.”

  Refusing to indulge her curiosity, Rafe left the room and strode down the stairs to inform Anthony and Elizabeth of Cassandra’s flight. His fists clenched at his sides as he cursed this disaster and silently vowed that he would see her safely returned home tonight.

  * * *

  Cassandra hefted her valise over her other shoulder. Her arms and back muscles continued to scream in protest from lugging its pendulous weight for seven blocks. She stared down the expanse of Marlborough Street, the light of the gas lamps obscured by the thick night fog. There was still no sign of a hackney or any other mode of transportation.

  Too late, she realized that this would not be the best location to find a ride. The little season had not yet begun and Marlborough Street was all but deserted, most of its aristocratic residents still tucked away in their country estates.

  Go back, that meddlesome, unreasonable inner voice pleaded yet again.

  But she couldn’t. Rafe would kill her! But her words held even less conviction than her previous utterance.

  What if he didn’t intend to kill her? What if he had another plan in mind? Cassandra shook her head, refusing to indulge in such whimsical thinking. He had made the rules governing her situation quite clear.

  Yet some wayward part of her continued to cry out for Rafe with every step that took her away from him. It cried out to see his tender smile, to hear him call her “Querida” in that gentle tone, to feel his sensuous kiss, to experience the furious storm of his lovemaking once more.

  With an aching sigh, she plodded forward.