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However, there was the matter of Cassandra remaining under his supervision. Rafe thought quickly. There was only one option, though he did not like it.

“You will have to teach her here,” he told Wakley. “The cadaver can be stored in the icehouse.” Another thought sprang to mind. “And do not harvest it from St. Pancras or Whitechapel. They are, ah, being patrolled, from what I understand.” The last thing he needed was more grave robbers bothering his people. Or for Wakley to come under scrutiny once more.

Cassandra fetched her reticule from the desk in the corner. “Allow me to pay for procuring the specimen.”

Rafe raised a brow. “I’ll pay for it.”

She blushed and turned back to Wakley. “When may we begin?”

“If only all students had your enthusiasm.” The surgeon chuckled. “If my arrangements go as planned, I can be here tomorrow evening with a wagon. If not, I’ll send a note. Now I had best depart before my beleaguered wife worries.”

After Wakley left, Cassandra rushed to Rafe in a flurry of skirts. “Thank you so much for this. What can I do to repay your kindness?”

“I do not know if it was precisely kind.” At the conclusion of her imprisonment, she might even call him cruel. Yet when he looked down at her flushed cheeks, glittering eyes, and parted lips, his lust took control of his mouth. “Kiss me, Querida. That is all I ask.”

She sucked in a breath, whether from revulsion or anticipation, he could not tell. Then she stepped forward until her breasts pressed against his chest, warm even through the barriers of fabric between them. Slowly, she reached up with both hands and caressed his face before rising on her toes until her lips were inches from his.

“Like this?” she whispered and pressed her lips against his.

Rafe closed his eyes and savored the taste and feel of molten satin. Feather-light, her lips caressed him as if exploring the curves and angles of his mouth. He’d never before felt anything so subtly erotic. Immediately, his cock grew stiff.

Reaching out with his good arm, he pulled her tighter against him as he returned her kiss, feeding at her mouth like a man starved. He felt Cassandra’s pulse accelerate, and a shiver ran down his spine when the tip of her tongue slid between his lips. Hot lust roared through his being, along with savage hunger.

With painful reluctance, he drew back before he lost his senses. “I need to go hunting now,” he rasped. Before I tear off your clothes and plunge my cock and my fangs inside you.

Her white teeth nibbled her plump lower lip as she nodded.

He hurried down the stairs and out into the cold October night air. It wasn’t cold enough.

* * *

Cassandra slumped against the wall, shivering long after Rafael departed, though her body remained flooded with heat. What was it about his kisses that affected her so?

They had been nothing like her late husband’s grandmotherly pecks by day and slobbery assaults by night.

Rafe’s lips had been so warm, so gentle, yet firm with restrained, compelling danger. Perhaps he used some manner of vampire magic. Placing her hand on the wall, she steadied herself. No. There was no such thing as magic. And his mesmerism didn’t work on her. There had to be a logical explanation for how he made her feel.

Her mind raced in circles, unable to formulate the slightest hint of a hypothesis. On shaking legs, she left the laboratory and went downstairs. Perhaps some tea would settle her fluttering stomach and slow her racing heart so she could think.

Mrs. Smythe failed to hide a yawn when Cassandra rang for her. “I apologize, my lady. These late hours your protector insists upon take getting used to. And I do wish he would hire more staff…and more efficient people as well. That Anthony means well, but he is simply not up to snuff. And that William…” Her eyes narrowed in disgust as she broke off. “I’ll get your tea.”

Protector? “Jailer” was more apt. However, she couldn’t agree more about William. Aside from his insolence, there was something decidedly shifty about that vampire. She considered talking to Rafael about him but immediately dismissed the idea. She was a human prisoner. What say could she have on vampire affairs?

Mrs. Smythe brought her tea, hiding another yawn.

“Thank you. You may retire now.”

“Are you certain, my lady? What if you need something later?”

“I shall have Anthony or Don Villar see to it.” Cassandra felt a pang of sympathy at the dark circles under the poor woman’s eyes. “And please do not be up too early.”

The housekeeper smiled gratefully. “Very good, my lady. If you don’t mind me saying so, you should get some rest as well. You look flushed.”

The observation made her blush further. Cassandra hid the reaction with a sip of tea, relieved when she was left alone. Dwelling on Rafael’s effect on her was clearly dangerous to her constitution. Instead, she forced her thoughts to Wakley’s visit.

“I passed the Oxford examination,” she whispered aloud.

The words gave her a sense of pride, despite how anticlimactic the test had turned out to be.