by Brooklyn Ann
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.
“It is time to go upstairs, Querida.”
Her drowsiness fled, replaced by heated anticipation. Taking his hand, she rose from the settee, gasping when Rafe lifted her in his arms. His lips trailed a hot path up her neck and along her earlobe as he carried her to their bedchamber.
When the door closed behind them, he set her down and removed his jacket and cravat before kneeling in front of her.
“I do like this dress.” Rafe reached under her skirts. “But I prefer what lies beneath.”
Slowly, he slid his fingers up her calves and along her legs, caressing her beneath her silk stockings. Cassandra couldn’t help gasping at the teasing sensation.
Toying with her garters, he glanced up at her face, giving her a wicked smile before moving up farther. One hand gripped her hip while the other crept between her thighs.
As always, he gave her enough time to pull away before touching her most intimate place. She sucked in a breath as his fingers danced along her tender flesh, stroking her sensitive folds with sinful intricacy. Cassandra’s gasps turned into rapid little pants.
Rafe met her gaze, that wicked smile deepening as he ducked his head under her gown. Knees weakening at the feel of his breath on her thighs, she placed her hand on the bureau for support.
A cry escaped her lips as his tongue flicked across her clitoris, eliciting electrifying sensations that rocked her core. She nearly stumbled when Rafe’s hands tightened on her thighs until she could do nothing but squirm. Her cries broke off into low, helpless moans when his lips closed over her sex and his tongue darted into her hot center.
His grip was relentless as she tried to jump away, the pleasure intensifying until it was unbearable. He continued to lick and suck as Cassandra whimpered, then screamed as the ecstasy peaked. The orgasm slammed through her body, her hips bucking under its force.
Shuddering from the climax, she nearly collapsed before Rafe rose from his knees and tore off her gown.
“I’ll buy you another…if…” His expression sobered.
Cassandra would have none of that. Kicking off her slippers, she pulled him into her arms, tangling her hand in his hair to draw him down for a kiss. The taste of herself on his mouth only intensified her arousal.
Her other hand reached up to tug at the buttons on his shirt. With a low laugh, he obliged her. She stared hungrily at the golden expanse of his chest, sliding her hands all over his bare skin.
He made a rough, pleased sound at her touch. Emboldened, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue across his nipple, smiling at his harsh intake of breath. Languorously, she lavished her attention on every inch of his exposed flesh with her hands and mouth, licking, kissing, and touching him until his eyes glowed with hunger.
As her lips grazed Rafe’s body, his fingers unlaced her stays. Inspired, she unfastened his trousers just as he slid her chemise down past her shoulders. Meeting his gaze once more, she pulled down his trousers, releasing his erection before sinking to her knees.
“Querida…” he whispered. “You are driving me mad. I—”
Cassandra took him in her mouth, silencing his words. Her tongue explored the ridges and curves of the rigid head of his cock as her fingers idly slid up and down the base of his shaft. She’d never before done anything as carnal.
From the fascinating revelations of the shape and texture of his manhood to the primal sense of power that surged within at his gasps of pleasure, the experience surpassed her wildest imaginings.
Rafe tangled his hands in her hair almost forcefully enough to hurt. Her sex pulsed with a fresh flood of moisture. She licked and sucked harder, gratified at his deep groan.
Suddenly, he seized her shoulders and pulled her up. “I must have you now, Querida.”
He claimed her lips in a devouring kiss. By the time he broke off, she was light-headed with desire. Before she could recover her senses, he bent her over the bed and thrust deep inside her.
A low, throaty cry escaped her at the intense fullness within…a fullness she craved. Cassandra arched her back and shifted her hips to guide him even deeper. Rafe growled and seized her hips, quickening his thrusts. She gasped at the delicious assault, clawing at the bedspread.
Just when she thought she’d perish from the pleasure of it all, his hand slid up her back and his hands once more tangled in her hair with a roughness that made her moan in excitement. Mad with lust, she ground against him, matching his thrusts. The movement caused him to touch a place deep within, a place that ached with need.
“Harder,” she begged.
He immediately complied, slamming into her with such savagery that she screamed. Her core seemed to erupt with hot spasms of ecstasy. The climax fed on itself, building and cascading over her in a torrent of heat-crested waves until she could do nothing but whimper and writhe against him.
Slowly he withdrew, leaving her gasping for breath as she reeled with dizziness. Rafe lifted her in his arms and laid her on the bed, kissing her once more as he joined her.
He trailed his lips along her cheek and jaw, flicking his tongue across her earlobe before he whispered, “I am not fin
ished with you yet.”
His mouth clamped down on her neck, fangs grazing her flesh as he licked and sucked, sending electric frissons of newly kindled pleasure coursing through her veins. His hands cupped her breasts, stroking and teasing.
Cassandra moaned and tangled her hand in his hair, pulling him closer, her body aching for more. Rafe covered her with kisses, from her neck to her shoulders, even down her arms and across each fingertip. He then returned to her breasts, stroking and nibbling until she was panting with renewed desire.
Rafe paused and rose on his elbows to look at her. “Dios, you are a treasure.”
She shivered under his gaze.
He proceeded to prove his words, lavishing his attentions upon her body as if she were cherished and priceless. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as he kissed her belly, her hips, her thighs, her knees. He lifted each leg and worshipped every inch with his hands and mouth.
“Please,” she gasped.
That wicked smile returned as he knelt between her thighs, teasing her entrance with the head of his cock. Cassandra gasped and shifted to guide him in deeper, but he held her still, stroking her clit with his thumb as he entered her inch by inch with agonizing slowness.
When he’d fully penetrated her, he settled his powerful weight on top of her, motionless except for the rapid pounding of his heart. For a moment she was happy to hold him and savor the feeling of him inside her. Until her body took on a mind of its own and began to shift against him, creating the most delicious friction.
Rafe’s hands slid down her arms until his hands met hers and their fingers linked as his hips moved in slow, tantalizing thrusts. Her pleasure built slowly, ascending a towering peak. Small electric jolts punctuated the throbbing heat in her core. Once her climax reached its crest, she became incandescent.
Her hands clenched his as she threw back her head and cried out his name. Rafe’s eyes glowed like an amber flame as he bared his fangs in an unspoken question.
“Yes,” she gasped.
When he struck, her orgasm crested a higher wave. Rafe growled and pulsed within her as he reached his own climax. Cassandra shuddered beneath him, feeling as if she would die from the blinding pleasure.
At last he withdrew and collapsed, leaving her feeling boneless and sated. After she recovered her breath, she curled up in the haven of his arms, resting her head on his chest.
“Te amo, Querida,” he whispered suddenly, stroking her hair. “Tu eres mi luz en la oscuridad.”
“This is the second time you’ve said that,” Cassandra murmured. “What does it mean?”
“I love you.” His voice was as rough as his hand on her cheek was gentle. “You are my light in the darkness.”
Her breath halted. Her heart surged. “I never imagined anyone could love me. The concept seemed so irrational. I never believed in love.”
“I can never imagine not loving you.” He lightly kissed her shoulder. “To me, that is irrational.”
He tensed, and her heart clenched as she realized what he was waiting for.
“I love you too, Rafe.” Joy welled up in her at the words. “Thank you for teaching me to believe.”
He tightened his embrace, caressing her back in long, tender strokes. “I think you are the far superior teacher. Now we must get our rest before—”
“Hush. You love me, I love you. I finally believe in miracles. Let that be all for now.” She twirled a lock of his hair around her finger, determined to enjoy every last moment with him until nightfall.
* * *
Despite her assurances, Rafe couldn’t let it be. Her talk of miracles had kindled hope that warmed his heart. Even though the matter paled in comparison to all the trouble they faced, he had to ask.
Before she dozed off, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Cassandra?”
“Hmmm?” she murmured drowsily.
“If we make it through this debacle alive, do you suppose you could…” He trailed off, chest tight.
She leaned up on her elbow, eyes becoming alert. “Could what?”
“Fix my face,” he whispered, hating how weak and broken he sounded.
Her lush lips pouted as she regarded him with such intensity that he wanted to take his words back. “Considering the fact that my operations on your arm diminished the scars there, I see no reason why it shouldn’t be possible.” He held his breath as she paused and frowned. “However, I would not wish to.”
He blinked. “Why not? You deserve a whole man who will not shame you in public. You deserve—”
“Stop that,” she said, cutting him off firmly. “Allow me to explain. My secondary reason is that I would not want to risk damaging your face.” She studied his horrid scars with such scrutiny that he fought not to flinch. “It may be scarred, but the muscles are functional. I couldn’t bear it if I cut the wrong tissue and hurt you.”
Somewhat mollified, he dared to ask, “And your primary reason?”
She reached out and caressed his scarred cheek, her eyes moist and luminous. “I love you just the way you are. To me, your scars represent strength. They mark you as a survivor.”
“You truly believe so?” He seized her hand, speaking past a lump in his throat.
“I do.” Proving her words, she covered every inch of his scars with light kisses.
His eyes burned with unshed tears. “Dios, Querida, you are a treasure.”
As he pulled her into his arms, he prayed to every god he’d ever heard of that she’d survive to see tomorrow’s dawn.
Thirty-one
5 November 1823, Guy Fawkes Night
Cassandra’s heart pounded in anxiety the moment she awoke. Nightfall had come far too soon, and with it, a war between more than a hundred vampires for control of London.
Rafe pulled her into his arms for a devouring kiss, as if he wished to brand her memory with his touch. “I must prepare my people for battle, Querida. Elizabeth will be in soon to attend you.”
The moment Rafe left the bedchamber, Elizabeth marched in with a man’s shirt and trousers.
“You cannot run in a lady’s finery,” she explained in a tone that brooked no argument.
After Cassandra dressed, they met Lydia downstairs. Also garbed in trousers, Lady Deveril gave them a cheerful wave while perusing an array of pistols, swords, and rapiers spread out on the dining room table as she sorted through a case of holsters.
At the sight of the weapons Cassandra’s stomach churned with fresh anxiety. What if she fumbled in loading her gun and it misfired? What if she accidentally shot someone on their side? She gnawed her lower lip.
If she could even hit one of the enemy vampires she’d be lucky. She’d seen how fast vampires could move. A pistol was a pitiful weapon compared to their sharp fangs, lightning speed, and brute strength. Added to the futility was the fact that if she didn’t shoot a vampire in the heart, little damage would be done.
“Here.” Lydia held out a belt and holstered pistol. “This one should fit you.”
After they were armed, Cassandra barely had time to force down a quick breakfast and pack her supplies while the vampires took turns leaving the house to feed.
The journey to the meeting place passed in a blur of mounting panic. Cassandra could do nothing except huddle in Rafe’s arms and pray for his safety.
When they met with his people and allies, she was tucked safely on the sidelines as Rafe roared out commands in rapid fire. Battle cries reverberated through the stone chamber.
Before they filed outside, Rafe pulled her in his arms and addressed his people. “This woman is not only the most miraculous healer to walk the earth, but also the love of my life. Do everything in your power to see that she remains unharmed.”
Cassandra held her chin high, refusing to show fear as she walked between the four vampires Rafe had chosen to be her honor guard.
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Lydia stalked quietly at her right, pistol held securely at her hip. Anthony strode at her left, equally armed and ready to fire. The vampires leading and flanking her were unfamiliar, though trusted by Rafe. They certainly appeared formidable.
Biting her lip, she grasped the butt of her own pistol strapped to her hip, her palms sweating despite the chilly November air. She wasn’t made for killing, much less wounding.
Her other hand patted the satchel containing her medical supplies. The bandages, lancets, syringes, and scalpel were light enough. The ice-packed vials of vampire blood, donated by every vampire who stood with Rafe, contributed to most of the heaviness. However, the satchel was a comforting weight, far lighter on her conscience than the heft of the gun. She prayed she wouldn’t need to use it.
Her purpose was to heal, not to harm.
No matter how this battle ended, the wounded would need tending. Rafe had told her that very few would die…at least during the fighting, yet many would be injured. Already, her physician’s mind railed at the waste of it all.
Her gaze moved up the line to take in Rafe, marching in the vanguard with Vincent and Elizabeth. All three carried swords as well as pistols. The Lord of Blackpool joined them, along with the Lord of Rochester and their respective retinues.
Gradually, other vampires swelled their ranks as they neared the Wilderness region of Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. Two vampires pulled a wagon clanking with the weight of iron chains intended for the inevitable prisoners.
However, Cassandra knew that if Rafe’s side won, Clayton would not be taken alive.
Fireworks lit the night far to the east, echoed by faint jubilant shouts as the mortal populace celebrated Guy Fawkes Night, oblivious to the battle that would occur within a stone’s throw of their revels.
By the time Rafe’s army reached the edge of the designated battleground—a large clearing surrounded by walnut trees—their force was nearly a hundred strong. Lydia and Anthony pressed closer to Cassandra, holding their weapons at the ready.
