Bite at First Sight Read online

  With unyielding strength, he lifted her into the conveyance and settled next to her on the rickety bench seat. Again, her stomach pitched in the most alarming manner.

  “To Burnrath House, number six, Rosemead Street,” he clipped out to the driver.

  The driver, worn and weathered for such a young age, eyed the vampire nervously, his gaze unwittingly darting back to Rafael’s facial scars. “Aye, guv’nor.”

  As the carriage bobbed and rumbled down the cobblestone street, Cassandra trembled with intense awareness at the feel of the hard, warm body pressed next to hers. One of the wheels struck a pothole, nearly tossing her to the floor, but Rafael held her securely with gentle strength. How often she had dreamed of being this close to him…closer, if she were to acknowledge the truth of those wicked visions. No wonder my mother-in-law called me unnatural. I’ve been smitten with a vampire the entire time.

  Quickly and as intensely as lightning, the memory of his mouth on her neck sent a shiver down her spine.

  This could not be happening. Clearly she was dreaming. She pinched the sensitive skin on the back of her left hand…and bit her lip at the sharp pain.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rafael asked.

  She eyed him warily. “I am trying to wake up from this fantastical dream.”

  He raised a brow and grumbled something in Spanish.

  The hackney stopped outside the wrought-iron gates of Burnrath House. The enormous Elizabethan manor loomed over them like a menacing sentinel. Meager candlelight illuminated the windows, making them look like hungry eyes.

  As Rafael led her down the drive, Cassandra observed that the once-manicured lawn was now wild and overgrown. The butler who greeted them at the door was not Burke, who served the Duke and Duchess of Burnrath. In fact, not only did he look too young to be a butler, with his bright yellow hair and boyish blue eyes, but he wasn’t wearing livery. The young man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and malice as they raked across her with decidedly un-servile insolence.

  “William, this is Lady Rosslyn, my prisoner,” Rafael began without preamble. “She is not to leave this house unsupervised.”

  William’s eyes widened momentarily and his fangs glowed in the candlelight. “Yes, my lord.”

  More vampires? Cassandra froze, all of her instincts crying to flee from this den of monsters. So that was why Rafael had dispensed with the former servants. And the lack of good staff was apparent the moment Rafael led her inside. Even in the dim candlelight, she could see that the house lacked upkeep. Cobwebs hung from the rafters and covered the unlit gas lamps in the drawing room.

  Disgruntled with the vampire’s rudeness, she swiped a finger across a mahogany side table, grimaced at the dust, and gave William a pointed stare. Have I gone mad? an inner voice gasped. I should be planning my escape, not taunting vampires about their poor housekeeping!

  William bared his fangs further. Rafael pulled her away, though she swore she heard him chuckle under his breath.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and another male emerged, peering at her curiously with glittering sherry eyes. “What is this I hear about a prisoner?”

  Rafael squeezed her arm before addressing the man. “Anthony, this is Lady Rosslyn. She’s the one who’s been skulking about the cemetery.”

  “This is our fierce vampire hunter?” Anthony laughed and ran a hand through tousled chestnut hair.

  Rafael’s lips curled in a scowl. “Not a hunter at all. Merely a grave robber.”

  Cassandra bristled at the term. She was a scientist, not a common thief. “I was going to put it back!”

  “Grave robber?” Anthony gaped, revealing his fangs. “She looks too fancy for such a dirty crime. Well, if she’s no threat to us, why is she a prisoner?”

  Other than a deepening scowl, Rafael continued to ignore her. “Because she is one of those rare mortals who possess an unyielding mind, I was unable to extinguish her memory of our encounter.”

  “I see. So we will be keeping her then?” The other vampire smiled playfully for a moment. Then his mirth dimmed. “Until…”

  Rafael cut him short. “I shall write the report to the Elders now. In the meantime, would you please go to the nearest inn and procure Lady Rosslyn something to eat?”

  Anthony’s shoulders slumped in obvious reluctance, but he bowed in assent. “Very well, my lord.”

  “Lady Rosslyn.” Rafael fixed her with such a piercing gaze that she regretted once more gaining his attention. “You will accompany me to the study.”

  Without acknowledging her brusque nod, he guided her up the stairs. Her mind raced with panic at the talk of keeping her as if she were some sort of exotic pet. Until…until Rafael kills me or transforms me into a bloodsucking monster.

  The study at least was clean and organized, with a cheery fire blazing from the hearth. Rafael bade her to sit in one of the green baize overstuffed chairs before opening a cabinet and pouring her a glass of sherry. Cassandra sipped the heady vintage, watching with fascination how well the vampire managed to perform such a task with only one fully functioning arm. With fluid grace, he rifled through the desk drawers to fetch parchment and a quill. Dipping the quill in the ink blotter, he proceeded to write with such intensity that it was a wonder to behold.

  But his injured arm had moved earlier…when she’d been in his grasp with his mouth on her neck. The movement had been weak, but it had been there all the same. How had he damaged the limb? Could it be repaired? Her physician’s mind raced with a thousand questions. Unfortunately, if the ever-deepening scowl on his face was any indicator, now was not the time to voice them.

  Rafael folded the missive and summoned William with a bell. “I want you to find me a runner to dispatch this right away.”

  William eyed her with a truculent frown before seizing the letter. “Yes, my lord.”

  Anthony returned soon after with a small crock of stew and a crusty roll. The stew was the greasiest, most unpalatable concoction she’d ever seen, but Cassandra willed herself to choke it down. Who knew when she would again have the opportunity to eat? Her stomach pitched in dread. She forced the thought away. The roll, at least, was quite delicious, though it could have done with some butter.

  As much as she tried to hide it, Rafael sensed her dissatisfaction. “Tomorrow evening I shall arrange for you to have more worthy sustenance, Countess. Now, I think it best you retire.”

  “So you are not going to lock me in a dungeon?” she ventured, finding courage from his polite words and promise of better victuals. Except for his threat of impending death, he was not treating her as a prisoner.

  A slight smile twitched his sculpted lips. “Of course not, tempting as that may be. For one thing, I don’t have one. All we have are the cellars below…and I do not want to contend with William or Anthony taking a bite out of you. For another, I am unwilling to let you out of my sight for long.”

  “That is indeed reassuring, Don Villar.” She struggled to match his casual aplomb and finished the last sip of sherry. “Although I must say, I am not the slightest bit tired.”

  His scowl returned. “That is too bad, I’m afraid, for I have business to attend to and cannot risk you attempting escape. So you will have to remain in my chamber.”

  The world seemed to tilt as the breath left her body. “I-I beg your pardon? Your chamber?” Surely he did not mean… Her traitorous body warmed at the thought.

  “Yes, my chamber.” His eyes blazed with irritation. “You needn’t look at me as if you fear I’ll ravish you. I may be a repulsive monster, but I am not a reprehensible one. It is the only way I can ensure you cannot escape.”

  For some reason, his utter dismissal of the notion stung. Truly, she shouldn’t be surprised. Her own husband had never found her desirable either.

  Her face flamed but she managed to raise a brow. “Why should you worry about my safety
when you may very well decide to kill me soon?”

  Rafael sighed and extended his arm. “Stop being foolish. Now will you come along, or will I have to haul you down the corridor myself? I assure you I am quite capable of doing so, despite my disability.”

  Cassandra took a shaky breath and placed her hand on his muscular forearm, marveling once more at his strength as she allowed him to escort her. My parents would be reeling in their graves. Not only have I allowed myself to have been abducted by a male, but I am now consigned to sharing a room with him.

  When they reached an ornately carved oak door, Rafael released her to pull an iron key from his pocket and fit it into the forbidding lock. Cassandra remained frozen in shock as the reality of her situation gripped her with icy fingers.

  The door swung open and the vampire guided her into the massive chamber. This room was also thankfully clean, though the bed was unmade. Heat crept to her cheeks once more at the implied intimacy.

  “When I return, I will either sleep in the chair or on the floor,” Rafael said stiffly behind her. “A few books are in the drawer by the bed, as well as a deck of cards, should you care to practice your hand. I will leave one lantern”—his voice suddenly turned savage—“but if you attempt to use it against me, I swear you will regret it until your last breath.”

  Cassandra studied the slightly rippled scars on the left side of his face. “You were caught in a fire?” Further questions died in her throat as she witnessed the fury in his eyes.

  “Of a sort, only worse than that…much worse.” He stalked away from her to light a small oil lamp, striking the match with his one good hand.

  Unbidden, her gaze strayed to his bad arm and she burst out, “It moved earlier.”

  Rafael stiffened and whipped around to meet her stare.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “It has its good moments here and there.” He handed her the lantern and headed back to the door, suddenly turning back. “Although such a platitude is useless, and you will not believe me, I truly am sorry things happened this way.”

  Cassandra was rendered speechless once more by the sincerity in his tone.

  He swept his gaze over her for an endless moment before inclining his head in a slight bow. “Good night, Countess.”

  The door closed behind him. The sound of the lock clicking back into place grated her nerves with terrifying finality and left her trapped in a vampire’s lair.

  * * *

  William awaited Rafe below with the messenger. He glared with disapproval as the report to the Elders was sent on, along with a letter to Clayton Edmondson, Rafe’s second-in-command, informing him of the situation.

  When the runner departed, William shook his head. “I do not see why you are subjecting yourself and us to all this trouble. Why did you not kill her then and there?”

  “Killing mortals is illegal now,” Rafe reminded him curtly. “These days the risk of discovery is too high.”

  William scoffed. “You could break her neck and toss her into the Thames without anyone being the wiser.”

  “The Elders will likely order me to do just that, so there is little for you to be concerned with,” Rafe snapped. “In the meantime I will do my duty and I recommend you do yours. This house needs to be cleaned up. We have a lady in residence.” Before William could protest, Rafe raised his good hand. “Or should I audition another candidate to be my fourth?”

  William sighed and shook his head. “No, my lord.”

  “I do not like this any more than you do.” Quelling his irritation, Rafe softened his tone. “Just do some light dusting for now and then you may go hunt.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Anthony emerged, carrying a tray holding a decanter of ruby liquid and a glass. “No need to dust the kitchens, William. I’ve already taken care of that area. The lady will need to eat, after all. I’ve also poured you a glass of Madeira, my lord. Where shall you take it?”

  “Thank you, Anthony. The library will do. Pour yourself one as well. I have a few things to ask you.”

  William glared at Anthony and muttered under his breath, “Arse-kisser.”

  Anthony shook his head, smiling as they headed up the stairs. Rafe nodded in approval. At least his third-in-command was handling this disaster with competence and dignity.

  In the library, Rafe settled in a wingback chair and lit a cigar, taking his Madeira with gratitude. “Tell me, Anthony, can you cook?”

  His third frowned. “I doubt I could even boil water. And William likely cannot discern the difference between sugar and salt.”

  Rafe blew out a cloud of smoke with a sigh. “Yet another complication. I cannot very well allow the countess to starve, and we cannot rely on fare from inns every night.”

  Anthony regarded him strangely, leaning forward. “You behave as if you know her.”

  “She is a friend of the Duchess of Burnrath. Naturally we have had a few brief encounters.”

  And potent encounters they were. Rafe closed his eyes at the memory. While all other members of the haut ton regarded him with suspicion and disgust, Lady Rosslyn had sought him out with bold curiosity. The rapt fascination in her glittering green eyes had been nearly enough to undo him. So he had been rude to her to drive her away, to protect her from himself. Little good it had done.

  “So now you’ll have to either kill her or make her one of us,” Anthony mused aloud. “I do not envy you for that responsibility, though I must say that she is very beautiful and seems to possess courage as well as a strong spirit. She may make a fine vampire indeed. And you could do with a bit of companionship.”

  Rafe shook his head and took another drink. “I am afraid it is not as simple as that. I couldn’t Change her even if I wanted to.”

  Anthony’s brows drew together in confusion before his eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Do you mean you’ve Changed someone recently? Without sanction from the Elders?”

  “I owed the duchess a favor.” Rafe nodded with impatience and more than a touch of shame for breaking the law. The Elders required a vampire to notify them any time they intended to Change a mortal, not only to keep track of the vampire population, but also to ensure that no one was Changed who could pose a risk to their kind, such as criminals, prominent figures, or children.

  Anthony leaned forward with avid curiosity. “Who did you Change?”

  “It is none of your concern, and do not tell anyone, especially the countess.” Rafe ground his teeth. Yet again, the duchess had caused trouble for him. It took years to gain the power to Change a mortal. If he tried it again so soon, Cassandra would likely not survive.

  “I could Change her,” Anthony said quietly. “I’m one hundred thirty years of age. Surely that is sufficient power.”

  Rafe’s fingers stiffened on the arm of the chair as he struggled to conceal his shock. Gratitude at the vampire’s loyal offer warred with rage at the thought of Anthony’s fangs penetrating Cassandra’s lovely neck.

  “Let us wait and see what the Elders say before making any drastic decisions. Besides, you do not want to squander such power lightly.” Rafe stood and crushed out his cigar before Anthony could say anything further. “Now I am going to Mark her.”

  Cursing under his breath, he left the library and stalked to his chamber, pausing at the door. Marking her would make things worse for him, but it had to be done. He couldn’t risk her escaping or falling into the clutches of another vampire.

  Fitting the key into the lock, he opened the door as quietly as possible. Relief filled him at the sight of her still form on the bed and the sound of her even breathing. He hadn’t the patience to hear more questions for which he did not have answers.

  A pang of guilt struck him as he approached the bed, noting that she’d only managed to unfasten a few of the tiny buttons on the back of her gown. Doubtless she was uncomfortable sleeping in such a garment. She woul
d need a lady’s maid to help her with such things…and more clothing, for that matter. Tomorrow they would have to go to her home and fetch her things before someone noted her disappearance. Yet another complication.

  Rafe clenched his teeth as he stood over Lady Rosslyn, taking in her tumble of fiery auburn curls, her fine-boned features, the sweep of her lashes, the curve of her lips. Reaching out a shaky hand, he brushed his fingers across that silken mass of hair with a whisper of a touch.

  He snatched back his hand with an inner curse. She was too fine to be handled by the likes of him. However, this business had to be done. Raising his index finger to his mouth, he pierced the digit with a fang, watching his blood bead up from the wound. Never in centuries had he imagined performing such an act.

  Carefully, Rafe held his finger above Lady Rosslyn’s parted lips, allowing his magical blood to drip into her mouth.

  In as low a voice as possible, he recited the words that would bind her to him for the rest of her life. “I, Rafael Villar, interim Lord of London, Mark this mortal, Cassandra Burton, as mine and mine alone. With this Mark I give Cassandra my undying protection. Let all others, immortal and mortal alike, who cross her path sense my Mark and know that to act against her is to act against myself and thus set forth my wrath, as I will avenge what is mine.”

  The Mark sang between them with such dark harmony that Rafe stumbled back. Cassandra moaned and her eyes fluttered open.

  “What…?” she moaned sleepily.

  His breath caught with desire. With her tousled hair and slumberous gaze, she looked like a well-bedded woman. Rafe shook his head. Such thoughts were dangerous.

  “Nothing.” He struggled to sound gentle. “Go back to sleep, Countess.”