Page 45 of The Doctor and the Devil
“I know you do,” I admitted, sliding my hands up her calves to untie her stockings and slip them down over her toes. I swallowed the burning lust that was building in me—as much as I desired her again, I wanted to help take care of her more.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, staring at my fingers on her legs.
“Because, Mina, as much as I know you are strong and smart and capable, if any of your stress or insomnia has been due to my return and continued presence in your life, I wish to help make amends. I want you to be well,” I said, quietly untying her skirts and reaching up to unpin her bodice. “Ineedyou to be well.”
She swallowed once and, after a moment, nodded. I continued my ministrations, desperately trying to ignore the pressure building in my cock as I undressed her. Gods above and demons below, she was beautiful.
“Do you think it will work?” she murmured when I’d gotten her down to her cotton chemise.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we will try.”
I removed her spectacles and placed them on the bedside table, then reached up to unpin her glossy locks from her coiffure. They were like silk in my hands. I threaded my fingers through her hair and gently rubbed her scalp, and a soft sigh of pleasure spilled from her lips.
“Did you mean it?” she asked.
I knew exactly what she referred to.
“Yes,” I replied. “You are what gives me hope. You are the hope of everything for me, Mina. A future without you would be the worst kind of Hell—but I will endure it if you still do not wish to be mine.”
The words were bitter and wrong leaving my mouth, but I had to say them. Perhaps one day I would believe them. Then again, perhaps there would be hope for us yet.
Hope.
She sighed again, that soft smile tugging at her lips once more. I picked her up and laid her back against the pillows, tucking her in beneath the thick velvet coverlet. By the time I leaned down to brush a kiss to her forehead, she had fallen asleep.
“Rest well, Mina, my love,” I whispered. “Tomorrow night, everything changes.”
16
MINA
April 27, 1768
Château de Ruisseau Magdelaine
When the massivegrandfather clock downstairs chimed six, it was a struggle for me to pull myself from the grip of sleep—and Rafael. As much as I hated to admit it, he’d been right about the fact that I was exhausted…mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually worn down. The rest had done me a world of good, and I woke up famished.
Rafael’s strong arms encircled me, one around my waist and one beneath my shoulders. His eyes were closed, but I doubted if he was truly sleeping. In all the time we’d known each other, I hadn’t known him to sleep much even after we’d made love. Instead, he’d hold me close, rub my back, and tell me stories of his childhood. Sometimes he’d sing to me in his native tongue, his deep, rich voice so soothing, I would swear he had the ability to cast spells like lullabies.
“Good evening, Mina,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “I’m glad you slept well.”
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked, reluctant to move.
“Enough,” he replied. His eyes opened slowly, dark and warm and fathomless. They were like portals to some decadent circle of Hell, and I shivered with fear and desire.
“I wish I understood that aspect of the blood plague,” I said. “How you can exist with the barest amount of sleep and such small requirements to feed. It seems so many other vampires require a full day’s rest and at least a pint of blood per day to keep going. You only seem to need more when you shift form more often or use other abilities.”
“My brother needs even less,” he said, tucking one of my stray curls behind my ear. “And he is so much more powerful than me. I often wondered if it was because of his age, or because our mother was a newly turned vampire when she fell pregnant with him. She was much older when I was conceived.”
I’d considered the line of thinking in my research. Well, my father had initially, and I’d picked up the thread after his death. Something about a born vampire made one markedly more powerful than a turned one, and it seemed that the closer one was to the true Dracul curse lineage, the more intense those powers were. Perhaps it was due to proximity to the first cursed members of the clan, and over the years, the strength of the curse waned as its effects became diluted through the blood of others.
“I’ve met so few vampire women who were able to have children, and yet your mother had two. Yet another medical mystery,” I said idly. Rafael tensed, and I regretted my words immediately.
“I have mourned the hope that I would ever have my own children. I know how hard it is for vampires to reproduce. I never believed I would have the opportunity,” he said, the sadness apparent in his voice. “Besides, the life that I live doesn’t exactly make me father material.”
“I think you’d make an exceptional father,” I said, strangely defensive.
“Did you never want babes of your own?” he asked, stilling beneath my exploratory hands.
