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Cassandra stiffened, eyes narrowed in outrage. “Do you mean like a brand?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Rafe sighed. Only moments ago he’d had his fangs in her neck and been on the verge of ravaging her senseless, and she was concerned about this? The woman was unbelievable. “Now hurry and find a dress. I am still hungry.”

Still huffing, Cassandra did as bidden. As he laced up the back of the forest-green velvet gown, Rafe gritted his teeth with the effort to not lick her creamy back and shoulders. Already, he was addicted to the taste of her.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Put on your cloak. I’ll fetch you a pasty from the kitchen.”

She inclined her head in acquiescence, threw on the heavy, black wool garment, and followed him down the stairs.

“Unbelievable,” Rafe muttered once more as they walked the gaslit streets.

Cassandra paid him no heed. She was far too occupied with juggling her massive journal and quill, with a meat pasty held in her teeth in a most un-countess-like manner. He constantly had to steer her shoulders to prevent her from colliding with lampposts.

As they passed his favorite tobacconist, Rafe couldn’t resist the urge to pop in and view the new wares. The proprietor was the only one in Town who kept his doors open after nightfall, and Rafe paid him a hefty sum to keep doing so.

“You’re taking sustenance here?” Cassandra glanced up from her scribbling.

“No. I want to look at the cigars.”

“Why?”

“I like to smoke.”

There were no new varieties to sample, so Rafe purchased a box of his favorite Cuban cigars and a pouch of a good Turkish blend for his pipe. He bit back a smile at Cassandra’s moue of distaste when Sampson offered her a sample of snuff.

Once they left, she returned to her note-taking. Rafe shook his head. Did she presume that vampires lacked hobbies?

Shortly after they reached Covent Garden, snide whispers caught his ears.

“Look, Victoria. It’s Lady Rosslyn!”

“Good heavens, it is! So the rumor is true, then. She’s taken up with him!”

Two ladies leaving the opera peered at them insolently above their fans, tittering maliciously. Rafe favored them with a glare, while putting a protective arm around his countess. Cassandra glanced up distractedly and nodded politely as she saw the other women. The pair of bitches lifted their noses and crossed to the opposite side of the street with such pointed haste that their foppish escorts had to dash after them.

“Stupid coños,” Rafe growled, pulling Cassandra closer to shield her from such spite.

“Hmmm?” she murmured, chewing on the last bit of the pasty.

“They are snubbing you because they believe you are a fallen woman.” He spat in their direction. “As if their morality is lily white.”

Cassandra blinked at him. “Why should I care what they think? I am no longer obligated to be part of their world, and to be truthful, I am quite relieved by that fact.”

Rafe shook his head in bemusement. This woman would never cease to surprise him. In his mortal days, if his stepsisters had been snubbed in such a manner, they would have been devastated and taken to their beds. As daughters of the wealthiest don in Navarra, they thought nothing was more important than preserving their social status.

“How do you select a person to be your, ah, meal?” Cassandra interrupted his nostalgic reverie. “Do you seek out the weak ones, like a wolf?”

He raised a brow at her cool inquisitiveness. “All humans are weak compared to me.”

She cocked her head to the side. “How do you choose?”

“Discretion is the main priority. Our kind cannot allow mortals to retain knowledge of our existence.” Rafe’s sensitive hearing picked up a light cough from a nearby alley. “Which is why we shall be going this way. Now be quiet.”

Cassandra complied, tucking her journal under her arm as she pulled an ink blotter from the pocket of her cloak to replenish her quill. Rafe paused at the alley’s entrance, lifting his gaze to the heavens. Why had he agreed to this?