Page 64
Story: Bite at First Sight
Rafe! she screamed in her mind, focusing her entire being on him.
Once they reached the wharves, the stink of the Thames grew thick enough to choke on. A third vampire joined them, muttering quietly to the silent, leering one. Fresh dismay sank deeper into her bones, yet she refused to give up.
As they hauled her into a dilapidated warehouse and Clayton ordered Hamish to fetch the chains, Cassandra’s silent cry grew louder.
Twenty
Rafe charged through the cold, wet London streets with Anthony and Elizabeth at his heels. He willed his preternatural senses to locate Cassandra’s Mark. The overwhelming anguish had slightly abated, only to be cut through with abject terror.
A low growl rumbled from his throat. She was in danger. Madre de Dios, please do not let it be Clayton.
Though he already knew it was unlikely he’d be that fortunate.
As if in answer to his prayers, the Mark suddenly opened between them, flooding his senses in a rush of warmth. Rafe felt her calling to him, the words unfocused and indecipherable, yet enough to pinpoint her location. Hope and triumph welled within.
“This way!” he called to Anthony and Elizabeth. “Toward the river. Apúrese! Corra! Hurry! Run!”
He continued on, having no time to look back. He would free Cassandra with or without their aid.
Rafe! Cassandra’s voice screamed in his mind as he felt a sharp burst of pain as if it were his own.
All of his protective instincts roared through him with savage intensity. How dare anyone try to hurt his woman! They would pay. His fists clenched as he ran faster, heedless of the drenching rain.
I am coming, Querida! he shouted silently, praying Cassandra could hear him.
As he reached the wharves, he nearly slipped in the putrid slime that perpetually coated the cobblestones. Anthony and Elizabeth slid to a stop behind him.
“Can you sense her exact location yet?” Anthony panted, still pale and weak from his blood donations.
Rafe held up a hand to silence his second and closed his eyes, concentrating. Almost immediately, he heard her voice and detected a faint aroma of rose petals. Rafe! Please, hurry!
“There!” he shouted, pointing at a ramshackle warehouse a hundred meters away.
The vampires wasted no time, arriving at the building in a rush of preternatural speed. Rafe kicked open the door with such force that the rotted wood shattered like glass. Fury boiled through every vestige of his being at the sight before him.
Clayton stood on a raised platform, holding a struggling Cassandra. The raised red weal of a handprint marred her cheek. A rogue vampire approached with an armful of chains with which to lock her up, while a second rogue looked on with a grotesque expression of rapt interest.
A low growl trickled from Rafe’s mouth. He could taste Cassandra’s rapid pulse.
Clayton looked up and smirked, eyes blazing with insolence as he snaked his arm under Cassandra’s chin. “Not another step, Villar, or I will snap your pretty countess’s neck like a matchstick.”
Rafe inclined his head in mild acceptance of Clayton’s threat. Of course the traitor would attempt to shield himself with an innocent.
Cassandra’s sea-green eyes met his, wide with fear.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly.
His former second-in-command flashed a triumphant smile, oblivious as Rafe reached behind his back and withdrew Anthony’s pistol.
Before Clayton could react, Rafe lifted the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
The rafters shook at the deafening sound. Clayton roared in pain, releasing Cassandra as bright red blood bloomed from the bullet hole in his shoulder.
Rafe shot forward and reclaimed his woman just as Anthony and Elizabeth launched themselves at the two rogues.
Cassandra hugged him tightly, looking up at him with such joyous relief that his heart clenched.
He stroked her hair. “Are you all right, Querida?”
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