The Hunt (26 page)

“Bad Moon Rising” pounds out
of the sound system and a few of the werewolves gyrate on the parquet wood floor in wanton abandon. The party seems to encase all three levels of the vaulted foyer. Supernatural guests lean over the railings, whooping loudly and gesticulating wildly, while others, human included, try their best to slide down the dual curving banisters in a drunken race to the next landing.

Lori’s arm rests in a sling but she still manages to entice Eric and Pat into a three-person hip grind amongst the other dancers. Romeo and Elsa dance together, oblivious of anyone else. Spike, whom I don’t recall speaking to this whole trip, leans near the front door and sees me surveying the crowd. He raises his glass slightly and tilts his head in acknowledgement.

This party has a different feel to it than the one after Ivan was killed. That day, fear gripped us all and electricity was still down on some parts of the resort. The roaring bonfire on the front drive seemed surreal and the stench of burning flesh filled the lobby for days after.

I’m glad nothing like that is happening tonight. The free drinks and music have loosened everyone up and I think even the most stalwart participants this week, like Stan, will go away happy they came and tried their skills against Emiko.

Across the lobby, near the fireplace, the remaining vampire hunters—Liam, Jet, Donald and Stan—crowd around Stephen, pumping him for information on his “kill”. His face is alight with sharing every “remembered” detail.

Back by the windmills, I had no choice but to take control of Coraline’s mind. The entire plan fell apart in a matter of seconds, requiring me to act quickly. It was a simple matter to replace her memories to make her think Stephen, and not Asa, carved out her heart. Erasing traces of the end, when the gunfire shattered my control, was an easy task. Rafe’s idea of inserting the knowledge she lost her charmed broach at one of their refueling spots on the way up, will buy us some time when she gets back to Argentina, but not much.

I couldn’t delve too deeply in her mind; it risked having her become consciously aware of my actions—like possibly leaving gaping holes in her memories or a sense that something was “off”. I know there are other members involved in the witch-hunt against me, but I’m still not sure who.

We ran into Stephen, wandering near the bowling alley, half-frozen, and unsure of exactly when he last ventured to the main building to warm up. I slipped into his head and planted memories of a long, noble sword fight before Rafe threw blood on the vampire and roughed him up a bit. Mesmerized and still under my control, Cora stood to the side, unaware of the proceedings. By the time we got back to the hotel, she was clapping Stephen on the back and congratulating him on the kill.

It actually turned out better we used one of the hunters instead of Asa. I’d seen in Cora’s mind how that previous detail sent alarm bells off in her head.

Rafe comes in to sit with me at small table in the dining room. His smile is warm and affectionate, with the added bonus of some lingering lusty heat simmering in his eyes. It’ll be nice to curl up in his arms when the Tribunal vampires leave and we can pretend, at least for a little while, there is no danger waiting for us.

The chef, Stephanie, is on duty and she bustles over to our table with a fresh carafe of Rafe’s favorite coffee. “More?” she says to me, indicating my empty mug.

“Yes, please.” I raise my mug and our fingers touch as she steadies the ceramic while pouring. A flash of her tampering with Paul’s spices fills my mind. She smiles at me before placing the carafe on the table, and then heads back to the kitchen.

“Damn,” I say when she’s out of earshot.

“What?”

“Stephanie is the reason Paul’s cooking has sucked since he turned.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s feeling a little guilty and I saw her actions in her surface thoughts when we touched. She was angling to take his job and figured if he couldn’t taste the spices or food he was preparing he wouldn’t know his personal collection was compromised.”

“Pink slip?” Rafe asks, always ready to do the difficult jobs when required.

“Nah. How about I
talk
with her
,”
I say with a wiggle of my eyebrows
, “
and we see how things go?”

He nods, eyes trailing over the guests in the lobby.

Wrapping my hands around my warm mug, I take a small sip of black coffee. The familiar aroma relaxes me in the midst of the vibrant party energy.

Rafe sets his empty cup on the wood surface and pours more from the fresh pot. “Asa stressed several times during our call that Drew claims he never saw Paul,” he says, low voice not reaching far. “Almost like he appeared out of nowhere.”

“I heard him.”

“So are we going to talk about it?”

A sigh escapes me as I place my coffee next to his. “It’s still too soon to tell. Paul could be like Antonio, able to wrap small glamours around himself.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” I say, while meeting his concerned, bright-blue gaze. “He could be a ‘child’ of my bloodline.”

“What are the chances?”

“I’ve turned dozens over the centuries. He’d be my first true descendant.”

Rafe stares past me, into the twinkling peacefulness of the quiet hot tub grotto beyond the window. “How long until your true powers started to emerge?”

“A few years. But it took me two decades ‘til I was strong enough to overcome the whole seethe.”

Pain fills my husband’s expression. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you when you needed it.”

A smile softens my face. “I’m not.” At his look of confusion, I add, “You’d be dead. They used everyone I loved to control me.” My voice trails off to a whisper, “Until I finally had to set us free.” Rafe reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing it hard.

He knows I was alone when I left the burning barn five centuries ago. He understands why I had to kill the man I loved, to free him from torture… and to release myself from the unending tyranny and abuse I endured under my master to keep my lover alive.

A vampiric presence enters the dining room and we both turn to see Asa exiting our suite through the steel door. “How’s Paul?” I call out.

“Better. The vomiting has stopped.” He pulls out one of the chairs near us and sits. “I think.” He shakes his head while pouring a cup of coffee. “Strange things happening today, huh?”

I look at Rafe and grin. I’m guessing this is the young man’s segue way into asking about what he witnessed in the clearing. “Yup,” I answer, enjoying his awkwardness.

Asa takes a gulp of brew and grimaces. “Ugh, why bother to drink it if it’s not mixed with blood? Shit’s nasty.” He wipes his mouth on a napkin. “And to think I used to love the stuff.”

Rafe leans on the back legs of his chair and grabs a carafe off the table behind him. “Here, this one might be more to your liking.”

The young vampire mixes some of the blood coffee into his mug and stares down at the table. “Are we going to have a debriefing to discuss the… er… umm… new ending?”

Laughter bubbles up and out, from both Rafe and me. “What?” I say. “You have questions regarding my handling of the situation?”

“No! No. I meant… well… what really happened back there? How did you control Coraline like she was a human?”

I smile and pat him on the forearm. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, everyone at once. Okay?”

Tension pours out of the young man and he visibly relaxes, “Yeah, that sounds great.” He clears his throat and rubs a hand over his stubble-covered head. “Jon mentioned something about this summer. Maybe opening the resort up to Weres?”

“We’ve been talking about it,” Rafe says.

“I’d like to stay here during that time,” Asa says. “If I may.”

I lean in and look him dead in the eye, “You realize you can’t go outdoors, and coming up on the main level of the inn could be dangerous, too, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Thought I could get from place to place via those escape tunnels you designed.” At my not-so-happy look he hastily adds, “Uh… if there was a need.”

I look to Rafe, who nods. “I think it’s a distinct possibility.” The young vamp breaks into a smile and looks across the lobby to where his brother and Pat dance with Lori. “There’d be rules, of course.” His head bobs up and down; eager to concur with anything I say to get what he wants.

“You want to tell him the other good news, or should I?” Rafe smiles now, happy to have something terrific to share after this exhausting week.

“Go for it.”

“What?” Asa asks. We’re beaming, happy with the new development, and he starts to look annoyed. “Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“We had a talk with Romeo and Elsa while you guys were at the airport.”

“So?”

“They’ve agreed to leave Eric and Pat here in Jon’s care, for them to become a part of his pack—if Jon agrees.”

Asa’s whoop of joy draws a few glances our way. He leaps from the chair and knocks mine back an inch or so in his haste to hug me. Muscular arms wrap around me and squeeze tight. “Thank you, Vivian! You have no idea what this means to me.” My arms are pinned to my side so I halfheartedly pat his side in response.

Once the young vampire catches himself in his uncharacteristic show of affection, he releases me and the moment is over as quickly as it occurred. “Why don’t you go share the news with Eric and Pat?” I offer. He moves around the table, without a backward glance, purpose in his step and excitement radiating off him. As he heads into the lobby, I lift a thought from his mind. I call behind him, “Just be sure to mix the Jäger with some blood or you’ll feel like crap tomorrow!”

“That’s a good thing you did, babe,” Rafe whispers, leaning over the table to kiss me. I shrug, uncomfortable accepting the kudos for what is ultimately a sound decision toward Jon’s happiness with having a pack of his own.

Raucous shouting from the young men and intense shoving proceeds. The three run up the two winding flights to the bar in a mad dash, chanting “Jäger” every few steps. Soon the whole lobby clears out, following the exuberant trio.

In a moment, it’s almost peaceful in here, that is, if you don’t mind the blaring music.

Rafe takes my hand in his and plants a soft kiss on my fingertips. “Now what do you want to do about Cora and her cronies?”

God, you would have to mention her and kill my buzz of happiness. Last I heard, she was upstairs in the Roman bath with one of her hooded guards.
I slip a foot out of one backless shoe and run my toes up the side of my husband’s leg.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He drops a hand under the table to cup my foot, drawing it closer to his crotch. “When do we leave?”

I’m not surprised Rafe would assume the next logical step. I smile, thankful I have my very own
Wolf Killer
by my side no matter what the future holds. “We beard the lion in his den before he has a chance to come after us.” I rise, pulling my foot from his grasp, and stretch, pressing my breasts against my shirt and drawing my husband’s hungry eye. “This time,
we’ll
be the ones hunting big game.”

~~*~~

About the Author:
C.J. Ellisson lives in northern Virginia with her husband, two children, two dogs, and a fluffy black cat who makes her sneeze. She writes urban fantasy and erotica, as well as non-fiction and middle-grade fiction (under the pen name C.J. Stern, titles to be released in 2012).
The Hunt
is the second book in
The V V Inn
series and there are currently four books planned, more to be added if there is enough reader interest.

C.J. loves to hear from readers. Please stop by and visit her on facebook at:
http://www.facebook.com/c.j.ellissonfanpage
or her website:
http://www.cjellisson.com
for free reads and information on when the third book,
Big Game
, will be released.

Do you like to read original fiction daily for free? Stop by the
Everything Erotic
site (
http://everythingerotic.blogspot.com
) for super steamy reads, and
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(
http://thedigitaldigest.blogspot.com
) for fantasy, horror, sci-fi, romance, paranormal serials, flash fiction, and short stories (non-erotic work).

Please continue on for part of the first chapter from the next book in the
V V Inn
series, set to release in early 2012.

The soft hum of the jet fades into the background noise of the small cabin. Rafe exits the cockpit and locks eyes with me across the tight space. His rugged face carries a tired grin and his blue eyes look weary. He’s been flying through the daylight hours as we make our way down the globe to Argentina, where our final destination is a small private island off the southern coast.

His muscular form, encased in well-worn jeans and a snug black t-shirt, looks as delicious as ever. Worry pinches my husband’s expression as he heads back to my location opposite the plane’s bar. Chelly, lounging on a chocolate chenille couch, shifts her attention up from her ereader—more than likely trying to catch a last glimpse of Drew who took over flying duties. She deflates a little when she sees Rafe and goes back to her book. Her long blond hair hides her expression from me, but I’m sure I’d see a hint of longing on her face.

She and Drew, the one hundred and fifty year old vampire who came to our resort as a guest last fall before joining our seethe, began dating this winter. Now, he only feeds directly from her, taking bagged blood for extra nutrition when needed. To my knowledge, he still has not claimed her and exchanged blood to make her his companion. His old-fashioned ways have made for a cute courtship display, but I doubt Chelly can take much more of the long tease. She looked ready to snap and jump his bones on the spot when he invited her on this trip.

Bob, one of our ground crew, plays cards with Tommy, our imported Aussie who mans the inn’s front desk, and fledgling vampire, Paul. The three sit around a table set between four seats facing each other with intense looks on their faces and examine their hands. Their voices are pitched low, but every once in a while their excited chatter over a hand becomes loud. Tommy glances up as Rafe walks by. The sandy-haired man folds his cards and slips into the aisle behind my husband.

Rafe leans down and kisses my cheek before settling into the club chair next to mine. A half glass of red wine sits on the round cocktail table bolted through the cream carpet in front of our seats. In honor of our destination, I’ve changed from the Alaskan vampire favorite of hot coffee to South American wines. It wouldn’t be acceptable for me to appear uncouth at any Tribunal gatherings by holding a coffee mug instead of a crystal goblet filled with bloodwine. But I admit, I do miss the caffeine jolt.

“Tired, darling?” I ask.

“Yeah.” A heavy sigh escapes him as he runs a hand across his forehead and back over his short light brown hair. “Flying through the last storm was a challenge. Head winds slowed us down quite a bit.”

“Can I get you something, sir?” Tommy asks from our right, standing behind the glistening marble-topped bar.

“A Yuengling, thanks.”

In a moment the beer is poured into an ice-cold pilsner glass and set on the low table. At a nod of appreciation from Rafe, Tommy heads back to his game.

Rafe stares at the amber liquid and remains still. “I’m worried, Dria.”

“I know.”

“The talk with the seethe regarding your manipulator abilities went well, but you know it won’t be the same with the Ancients.”

“Yes, they took it surprisingly well.” I stifle a smile at the reminder of Paul’s confusion and mini-freak out. Asa, our ex-military vamp, just nodded as if confirming something he suspected and Drew listened in silence. He pledged his loyalty again with the others easy enough, showing no hesitation at the end of the gathering.

Glancing at the shaded window, I debate on raising the covering now that night has fallen. “The idea isn’t to tell the Ancients. The plan to arrive earlier than previous years is to surprise them—find out who knows or suspects what I can do.”

“And then what? Slip into their minds and alter what they know?” he shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”

“The alternative is to kill them.” I lock eyes with Rafe, and see the concern he never tries to hide. “Depending on how many of the Inner Circle we’re talking about, that might not be smart.”

Rafe grips the chair arms, his frustration and anger quickly outweighs his previous concern. “Twenty-two members of the Inner Circle and eleven Ancients, not to mention an unknown amount of powerful gophers and lackeys on the fringe doing their bidding. Too many variables. I prefer a concentrated and planned attack.”

“We’ve gone over this before, love. What choice do we have? Let them come to us in Alaska? Where we have over a hundred humans in our care?” I shake my head. “I won’t put them at risk. Not an option. Besides, we normally head down south when the season changes and it’s impossible to run the inn for vamp guests. This early fact-finding mission in Buenos Aires is the best way to go.”

“Yes, yes, your ‘beard the lion in his den’, crap. I get it.” He reaches for his beer and drains half the glass before setting it back down. “I worry it’s more than just the three members you’ve speculated on.”

Bitter resentment and rage coil in my middle. For years I’ve hidden my ability and ran from certain death, only to find I’ve now cornered myself in a remote location with twelve dozen lives at stake. Flight or fight. That’s what any predator would do when left with no options.

“I don’t plan on running again.” Anger leaks through my tone and the tension in the cabin rises. “The only option left is to infiltrate and bring a stealthy battle to them.”

“Won’t they be expecting it? Coraline visited back in January. It’s foolish to think they haven’t done anything in four months.”

“If it was me,” I say with a deadly smile. “I would have attacked immediately.”

“Agreed. So why didn’t they?”

“Coraline could have been the main force driving the whole witch hunt after me. With the alterations I did to her psyche, it may have taken her cohorts a while to bring her back up to speed—or even months just to unravel what I did and how I did it. I’m still not sure how they could repair the damage if they weren’t able to slip into her mind as well.”

“What about that damn charmed brooch? Someone made it for her. Maybe the person is a strong magic user and has countered what you did?”

I speculate on his suggestion for a bit and focus on letting go of my fury. I try to center my thoughts and picture myself mentally moving through a few sun salutations. The yoga moves work, even sitting still. The anger deflates and I focus back around on Rafe’s suggestion.

His idea is possible, I suppose, but I’ve never met a witch or wizard that powerful. Most of them can do what Diane, Dr. Cook’s witchy daughter, does back home. She can cast minor spells and contrive complicated charms given enough time and the right ingredients… but a witch with mind powers or the ability to cast a complex spell to counter my mind-altering? I shake my head. Not likely. Could it be a wizard? They have been known to do more mental damage, but their spells are usually quite intricate, having no innate elemental powers like a witch is born with.

“I don’t think so,” I finally answer. “But, you’re right. It could be a option.”

Paul, our undead head chef, saunters back toward us. He’s become a sleeker version of himself, thanks to the liquid diet, and is now able to keep up with his kids and slim wife much better. He nods to us on his way to the bathroom facilities in the rear of the plane. Whoever said vampires didn’t use the can should be shot—seriously, where would all the blood go?

“Smooth flying, Rafe,” he says when he emerges from the tiny room, brushing a lock of dark wavy hair off his forehead. “Will I get to add ‘pilot’ to my growing list of super cool things I know?”

“Ask Drew to teach you,” Rafe answers with an easy-going smile. “We’ve got better facilities in Alaska, but you could probably start on the basics when we arrive in Argentina.”

“I’m still bummed Bunny and the kids couldn’t come.”

“We don’t know what we’re walking into, Paul,” I say. “It wouldn’t be wise to bring them.”

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. And why did you bring only male donors for me?” he directs toward me. At my sly smile he just laughs. “What, you thought I didn’t notice Tommy and Bob were guys?”

“Bunny asked me to make sure you were loyal. No temptation for you while I’m on duty.”

Paul looks stricken as he turns to face away from the passengers in the cabin and leans in, speaking low, “What happens when the men start to become tempting?”

“You close your eyes,” I whisper, “think of your wife, and jerk off when they leave.”

The smile is absent from his jovial face as he nods like he’s just received a death sentence. “Okay.”

“There is also a large supply of donated blood on ice coming with us. You’ll do fine.” I reach out and grab his sleeve before he leaves. “You’re gaining control, Paul. Getting stronger each day. Don’t let the urges get the better of you.”

“Think of things if the shoe was on the other foot,” Rafe says. “Would you want Bunny spreading her legs every few days when she got hungry?”

Anger colors the cheeks of the good-humored vampire. “No!”

Rafe drains his glass and stands to get another. “Then keep that anger front and center in your brain when you get horny for another person.” He slaps Paul on the back as he heads to the bar.

“How do you do it Vivian?” Paul asks. “Do you ever crave another lover?”

My mind flashes to Jonathan, my hunky werewolf servant with the compact wrestler’s body who tastes like dark chocolate. I’ve got ten pints of his blood stashed just for me over the next few months in Argentina. Yum. “You channel it back into passion for your mate. You can’t control what your body craves, but you can control what you do about those cravings.”

His shoulders slump. “Why is it so hard?”

“Most vampires want the sex and the blood together, it’s only as we age we can channel the blood-lust into pure sexual lust.” Beeps and a whir of the microwave come from the bar area, indicating Rafe must be getting something to eat.

“You mean, someday I might just want sex from everyone rather than their blood?”

I laugh. “We’re talking centuries, Paul. And maybe not sex from
everyone
, but some days it may feel that way.”

“Won’t I still need blood?”

“Yes, but not as much. As you age you can feed from other means, like sexual energy.” My thoughts turn inward as I remember some of the old vampires I hunted. A few of them fed on fear and pain. When their appetites grew too large and they terrorized too many humans to hide what they’d become the Tribunal of Ancients would discover their actions, sending an enforcer like me to end their madness. “Trust me, Paul. There are a lot worse things in the world to crave energy from.”

The smell of corn beef and mustard waft our way, teasing me of times long past in Ireland. Rafe sets a large plate holding a Ruben and chips on the cocktail table and eases back into the chair. “Thanks for making this for me earlier, Paul. It heated up nice, not soggy.”

Paul smiles at the praise and heads back to his card game. Bob and Tommy look up at his approach and then back to their hands. I wonder what they are wagering on to make them so serious.

“Do you think the other two men will do okay on the island?” I ask.

Rafe nods, while swallowing a big bite of his sandwich. “They’re good guys. Tommy can make sure the rest stay in line; he’s pretty good at herding cats and managing without being overbearing. I trust him to anticipate Paul’s needs before Paul. Bob can help out when Paul decides to cook—which you know he will—and maybe work with the gardener during the day.” He takes another long drink and some of the harsh lines of exhaustion soften from his face. “Our main issue will be the housekeeper’s barely legal daughter, doubling this year as a maid.”

A smile creases my face as I recall the dark good looks of Rosia. Her eyes snap with life and she knows exactly how to move her hips to attract a man’s eye. “Dalton might exert his fatherly protection and insist she work in the gardens with him while we’re in attendance.”

“Last we spoke, he said Flavia had called her younger twin sisters to stay with them to help out this season.”

Picturing the women we’ve met before, I can’t help but feel amusement. They’re all as pretty as Dalton’s wife and will provide ample distraction for the two men, not to mention a major temptation for Paul when Rafe and I eventually leave for Buenos Aires alone. Chelly’s blond and curvy good looks will stand out like a beacon when compared to all the small-breasted exotic looking brunettes.

“Paul might have a hard time resisting Dalton.” My eyes dance with humor, teasing my spouse. “He’s a suave and sexy guy.”

Rafe wipes his mouth carefully with a linen napkin and tosses the fabric on the empty plate. “You’ve managed to resist him for almost two decades.” A warm palm lands on my thigh, caressing one leg through my linen trousers. “However did you cope?”

Heat fills me, burning a path from Rafe’s hand to my privates. “I’ve got this big stud of a husband I ravish daily. Thankfully, the old man doesn’t need Viagra yet.”