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“No matter.” She shrugged. “Who are these Elders to whom Villar is sending a report?” she asked before she lost her nerve.

Anthony shivered and looked down at his boots. “They are a council of twelve of the most ancient and powerful members of our kind. They make the rules and we obey.”

“Ah, so they have decreed that I must be imprisoned to face a potential death sentence?” Despite Anthony’s fearful reaction at the mention of such formidable vampires, Cassandra felt a measure of relief that Rafael hadn’t been directly responsible for her current circumstances.

The vampire nodded. “Yes, and he was obligated by law to report your situation, lest he be punished. For the safety of our race, they need to be notified any time a mortal is apprised of our existence. It may be small comfort, but I believe Rafe doesn’t want to kill you.”

A light laugh escaped her lips. “Actually, that is a substantial comfort.” Though the prospect of becoming a nocturnal blood-drinker alarmed her, it was far preferable to being slain by one. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and whispered, “Do you think he will Change me then?”

Again the vampire looked down. “It is not really my place to say, my lady.” He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Truly, we shouldn’t be having this conversation. The master will not be pleased.”

She sighed in defeat. “Very well. I shall have my meal as well as my tea in the parlor. Please inform the master that I should like to speak to him there.”

Anthony gaped, but he was no match for her long-held authority as a countess. He seemed to know it, because a small smile of admiration crossed his lips. “Very well, Lady Rosslyn. I shall escort you there and bring your tea shortly.”

Tamping down her trepidation, Cassandra squared her shoulders and followed the vampire down to the parlor. Her tea was delivered soon after, much weaker than she preferred, but she was grateful all the same. Hopefully it would help calm her nerves.

“Ordering my people about already, I see.” Rafael’s richly accented voice poured over her like dark honey as he strode into the room with the grace of a panther.

She rose from her seat quickly. “I, ah, wished to speak with you.”

His amber eyes glittered. “I gathered as much. You may carry on.”

Folding her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see them shaking, Cassandra began. “I have put some thought into this situation and I have come to a few conclusions.”

“Oh, have you now?” His deceptively mild tone belied his raised brow.

She forced herself to meet his burning gaze. “Well, first off, the Duke and Duchess of Burnrath are vampires as well, are they not?”

He scowled and did not answer.

Cassandra chuckled. “I shall take that as confirmation. However, that is not among my main concerns.”

“And those would be?” he inquired, eyeing her as if she were the newly discovered species.

She refused to let him unnerve her further. “I shall need food. It would be silly indeed if I were to starve to death before you decide to kill me properly.”

He inclined his head, that silken black hair falling forward to frame his face. “Your logic has merit. What else?”

“I need more clothing.” Before he could mock her, she held up a hand. “This is not an issue of vanity, only mere practicality. You cannot mean to keep me here when I only have one gown to wear.”

Leaning against the door frame, he regarded her with what appeared to be amusement. “What makes you presume so?”

She swallowed. “You can’t possibly be so cruel.”

He stalked closer to her like a feral predator. “Oh, I can be cruel, Countess. I can be very cruel indeed.”

Cassandra willed her knees to cease trembling and lifted her chin. “Well, if you can be cruel, sir, then I can be difficult, though I would prefer to not be so.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed and he bared a hint of fangs. “What do you mean?”

She held her ground, fighting the instinct to step back. “I mean, I-I’ve been quite cooperative with your abducting me and facing a possible death sentence and, well…”

“Well?” he prompted in a dangerous, velvety voice.

She sucked in a breath. “Well, most people would be having hysterics and doing their utmost to fight you and escape. And I’ve been thinking perhaps I should do so as well. Although I daresay I would be more reasonable with a few accommodations.”

“Fighting me would be an exercise in futility, Countess.” As if to assert his point, he reached out to grasp her jaw, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. “As would trying to escape.”