Chapter 2

Cora pulled her thick and wavey, waist length auburn colored hair into a ponytail while she agitatedly paced the perimeter of the mansion’s medical room. 

“So, he brought home another one.  This is the third in two months,” she grumbled as she stopped next to the cot that supported Jasper’s still body. “What does he think he is going to do with this one? The man is barely breathing.”  

The elderly whitehaired attendant placed her hands on her thick hips and slowly shook her head as she said, “Master Rowan has a reason for everything that he does.  Although, for the life of me, I have no idea what it is this time. I cannot imagine what use he could be around here. This poor lad is on death’s door.”

Cora’s slender form leaned low over Jasper’s still body.  Placing her cheek near his mouth to feel for breath, she said, “Exactly. The others showed promise of recovering enough to provide household service.”  Straightening up, she added, “I think this one is dead.”

“No one dies here should I choose them to live,” said the vampire lord, Rowan Jules, as he sauntered into the room.  His tall, slender form hovered over Jasper to the extent that, if Cora didn’t know that there was a body on the cot, she’d miss it.

Rowan was taller than most of the males that Cora had encountered over the years.  His lean body was well-formed.  He possessed a power and strength that belied his appearance.  She found his square jaw and the straight nose that complemented his charismatic brown-black eyes irresistible.  She’d occasionally heard him referred to as creepy by young women who he’d brought home with him for one reason or another, but she found him to be overwhelmingly handsome.  This was a situation where looks were definitely in the eyes of the beholder.

Cora first met Rowan when she was a young woman of fourteen almost two centuries earlier. He’d come upon her while she was fighting for her virtue -and more than likely her life- on the docks of London in the wee hours of the morning.

After her father took his life out of despair over losing their fortune, her mother was forced to sell most of their belongings to satisfy creditors.  What little they had left was only enough to secure a small one room hovel for them to cram into on the most undesirable side of town.

The eldest of five children in a family that had fallen from society’s grace, Cora had no choice but to abandon her dreams of a fun filled season of coming-of-age parties and husband hunting.  With stiff resolution, she set out to search for a way to help her mother put food in their mouths.  Luck was on her side, and, with minimal effort or strife, she’d managed to secure a job selling meat cakes for a local pastry maker. 

She’d been working for several months before things went awry.  After collecting her day’s supply of cakes, she’d almost made it to the area that proved most successful for selling when a half dozen sailors stumbled out of the ale house that she was forced to pass each day.

Sadly, on that particular morning before the sun had yet awoken, luck had abandoned her.  She’d almost successfully slipped past the tavern when the drunken sailors caught sight of her. Even though the sun had not yet risen, and the streets were still just waking up, they dragged her into a nearby dank and dirty alley to prevent being caught while doing their dastardly deed.

She kicked, bit, and threw wild punches, but there were too many of them. They’d managed to rip her dress so that her youthful breasts were revealed.  Encouraged by the sight of her rose tipped delights, they muffled her screams with their filthy hands. 

They’d pinned her thrashing body firmly on the ground with the intention of each of them having a turn with her when Rowan swooped down upon them. What occurred next happened so fast that Cora could barely believe her eyes. 

This tall, well-dressed gentleman was so slender in comparison to her attackers that he looked as if one of those burly sailors could have blown him over with his foul-smelling breath.  Even so, he wasted no time in pulling her assailants off her with rapid speed.  One by one, he heaved them with such might that they landed in the icy bay. 

He did this with all but one.

The last drunken sailor was so engrossed in getting between her legs that he’d paid no mind to the battle between his comrades and Rowan.  As a result, he'd almost succeeded in penetrating her by the time her savior grabbed him by his neck and lifted him high above her.

Outraged at being prevented from the sensation of power from forcing himself on an innocent while reveling in the sensation of release in her virgin womanhood and humiliated over being forced to suffer his feet dangling in the air, the large, burley sailor bellowed curses while throwing powerful punches at her rescuer.  One blow managed to land so hard on Rowan’s jaw that his head swung back while a loud crack filled the air.

Suddenly, her rescuer’s brown-black eyes turned a bright yellowish orange as long, powerful looking fangs dropped from what had originally appeared to be a normal looking mouth.  With a loud growl, he secured his set of ivory colored impalers deep into the sailor’s thick, weathered neck.

His victim’s body was suddenly paralyzed.  All he could do was to howl with agony and fear until Rowan drained every drop of blood from him.  Then, he tossed her attacker’s lifeless body into the bay amidst his wide-eyed companions who were treading water while wearing expressions of terror.

Cora watched in stunned silence as the well-dressed gentleman casually pulled a linen handkerchief from an inside breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his mouth and chin.  Then, after tucking it back in place, he offered his hand to her.

She timidly took it.

With trembling body, she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“You have no need to fear me, child,” he cooed.  “I mean you no harm.”

“You drank his blood,” she timidly whispered.

“That I did,” he said with a firm nod.  Removing his cape, he wrapped it around her bare shoulders before saying, “Shall we go?”

“Where?” she asked with a shaky voice as she gratefully pulled the cape closed over her exposed breasts.

She wasn’t sure if she was trembling from the adrenaline that still coursed through her veins from the trauma of her near rape or the sensation from the powerful energy that radiated from her mysterious savior. Or, perhaps it was from the shock of watching a man drained of his life’s blood before her very eyes.

“I can either return you to your mother or you can come home with me,” he replied.  “The choice is yours.”

She hesitated in answering.  The temptation of going with this handsome and charismatic gentleman who she concluded was a real vampire was great.  It was clear that he would not harm her.  She feared not for herself, but worried about how her mother would survive without her assistance.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “You need not worry about abandoning your duties to your family.  If you come with me, I will make sure that your mother and siblings are moved into a more suitable home and cared for.”

She was surprised by how safe she felt.  She’d learned about vampires in fairy tales, but never considered them to be more than a fable. Discovering that the stories were based on fact was both unsettling and exciting but not frightening.

Feeling surprisingly empowered yet slightly wary of the motives for such an offer coming from such a charismatic male, she cocked her head to the side and looked at him long and hard.

“You are considerably my senior,” she mused. “What do you want with me?”

She debated whether the grin he produced was one of humor or mischief as he replied, “I crave not to force you as those men were doing, if that worries you.  I will never touch you in that way, dear child.”

“Never?” she said with a hint of mild dismay. 

She had no idea of this vampire’s true age, but it was clear that, when he was turned, he was much older than the young men she’d considered for husbands. Even so, she found him dangerously sexy and attractive. Vampire or not, this was the first man who’d affected her in such a way. The thought of him never wanting her was practically devastating.

 She forced herself to move past the acute attraction that she had for him and the disappointment that it wasn’t reciprocated and focused on the fact that he’d drained the blood of her attacker before her very eyes.  What if he had a change of heart and decided to do that to her?  

Even with such a possibility looming over her, she took only a moment to decide to take him up on his offer.  Whatever it was that awaited her with him, it couldn’t have been worse than the life she’d been forced into after her father’s death.

Now, two centuries later, she was a grown woman who, to her surprise and extreme disappointment, still hadn’t been taken to his bed.  Not only that, but he’d refrained from turning her.  She’d been kept alive by tiny weekly doses of his blood, but never made vampire no matter how much or how often she begged for it in hopes that he’d then make her his mate.

“He is no good for service. Are you going to turn him?” she asked as she watched her vampire hero thoroughly inspect Jasper’s condition.

“It is probable,” Rowan mused as he dropped his impalers and pierced the end of his finger with its tip.  Holding it to Jasper’s lips, he forced a few drops into his mouth.  “I imagine that it will take a few days of nurturing before he recovers enough for me to realize what can be done with him.”

“Will you give him your blood each day?” she asked with concern.

Rowan nodded as he said, “It is required for his recovery.”

“He is remarkably close to death.  He will turn before he heals.  Will he not?” she jealously asked.

Rowan’s dark eyes settled on his beautiful ward with strained patience.

Heaving a sigh, he emphatically said, “Whether he does or does not has no reflection on your situation, my dear. It would be a help for his healing if he did, as it would speed up the process.  He is taking a goodly amount of time to recover.”  As an afterthought, he added, “Jealousy does not become you.”

Her jaw involuntarily dropped as she struggled for a response.  Still tongue-tied and embarrassed at being chastised for her obvious emotions, she watched in silence as her benefactor strode from the room.