by Deanna Chase
The power pulsing through me feels exhilarating, as though I’ve fed from a half-dozen donors at once, but without bloating. There’s a strong sensation, like a surge of electricity, beating under my skin.
The force filling me warps my mind, making me slightly high with the thought I could rule the world. Muhuhahaha!!
God, Dria, you’re too much! Rafe laughs out loud with me. Rule the world? Now you’re sounding like you’ve had too much alcohol to drink.
Maybe he isn’t quite laughing with me. Well, okay then, maybe I can go on ruling my own little corner of the world. In my haste to leave the room, I trip on the edge of my robe, stumble, but catch myself before actually falling. Then again, maybe not.
I’ll be lucky not to make an ass of myself these next few hours.
Chapter Six
I close the office door behind me to join Rafe’s warm laughter in the kitchen. While I fed, he collected ingredients for his dinner. He’s finished prepping the vegetables and looks ready to start cooking. The need to do something, anything, pushes at me so strongly, I rush to our bedroom to dress. Sturdy, ugly clothes are the kind you need when going outside. I grab thick jeans, silk long johns, an undershirt, turtleneck, bulky sweater, and to top off my lovely outfit, a down jacket. Big boots replace the high-heeled pumps, and I’m good to go.
Vampire or not, I need protection when out and about for any notable length of time. We can withstand the cold longer than humans, but prolonged exposure would slow us physically and make us more vulnerable to attack—not to mention the effects on my skin are just criminal.
I march toward the backdoor. “Going to take a look around, see if I can find a trace of the scent Jonathan mentioned.” My voice sounds hollow to my own ears.
Rafe straightens his stance and looks up from his position at the stove. You okay?
Yeah. Need to burn some of this off. I’ll be back soon.
Grabbing a set of master keys hanging on a nearby hook, I step out into the frozen grotto. The hair in my nostrils freezes instantly. Not a land for the faint of heart, good thing I don’t need to breathe very often. Blocking the bite from the air, I take a deep breath while thanking my lucky stars my clientele doesn’t mind the weather. This extreme cold lowers our core temp, which means we do need to warm up to room temperature before any hanky panky. It brings the old phrase “cold hands, warm heart” to an entirely new level.
Along the trail leading from our kitchen, I pass fluffy pines, small and large, planted near the base of the inn and farther out. Twinkling holiday lights wrap the trees, contributing a soft glow to the illuminated pathway under my boots. We’ve created a quaint, winter wonderland that’s quite pretty in the ever-present darkness.
The paved sidewalks meander throughout the hot tub grotto, lending a private feel to each setting. Pergolas enclose individual tubs, each with hardy bushes planted next to them increasing the feel of solitude. My route takes me close to the foundation of the inn and I examine the snow under the windows. Spying footprints beneath room six’s window, I stomp through snow to investigate. They are bigger than my size seven. Could mean a very tall woman or a smallish man.
I’m annoyed at myself and the feeling is exacerbated by Jon’s Were blood coursing through me. How in the hell did I not think of the window before? The scent of blood in room six clouded my thoughts, but I had no idea it impaired my thinking so damn much. Jon was right to question me in the kitchen; I’m not at my best tonight. Damned if I’ll admit it to that hunk of fur anytime soon, though.
The clean smell of the snow, the sharp scent of pine trees, and the chemical traces of bromine from the four nearby hot tubs stabs past the frozen-stiff hairs in my nose. No lingering hints of an unknown vamp to detect, but I've come here hours after the killing and there’s a mild wind to contend with.
Let’s face it: I’m no werewolf.
Later, I’ll check inside the suite near the window. I feel stupid for not thinking of it sooner; live and learn—and try not to be snarky when Jon reams me for it.
Could a human have committed this crime? Or could the killer be one of the few vampires who can fly? Maybe they climbed the side of the building? A human could do that, but he or she would need equipment and there’s no evidence of footprints indicating the perp gauged the climb before ascending.
After completing a circuit of the hotel, pristine white snow is all I find. Snowdrifts against the hotel’s sides are quite high, especially in the corners where the wings meet the center structure
I set off at a sprint around a wide-curving path that leads to the ten guest cabins. Lighted bushes, glowing statuary, and trail markers stream past my vision like a row of headlights in a slow motion shutter release. Jonathan sniffed the structures on the outside, but I want to check inside, too. I let myself in to the farthest empty one, number ten, and work my way through the vacated units toward the main building. There’s no trace of an unknown vamp scent, so I stop outside the first occupied unit, Drew’s cabin.
My body shakes, and not from the cold. I itch as though my skin could crawl off me if given the chance. I take a moment to center myself before going those last steps to Drew’s porch. The energy leaking out of me needs to be contained before I face another vampire, or my on-going illusion of the luscious-but-average innkeeper would not be complete.
I begin a mountain pose from my yoga training. It’s the best to center me when I’m not dressed for a more complex move. Placing my feet hip-distance apart, I keep my hands loose at my sides. I raise my toes in the big boots before planting them down firmly. My spine straightens, tailbone roots down, chest lifts, shoulders back. The connection to the earth feels strong when the alignment is right, enabling me to pull the aura of my energy inside to lock tightly.
The yoga teacher I had years ago, Olga, would be proud. She taught me for over fifteen years. Up until the fact I didn’t age drove me from the small town in Germany. I miss her and her wisdom. She’s always guiding me in my mind, a calm I seek in any storm. I hear her voice with its smooth cadence like an echo: You must root to rise.
Feeling more in control, I step up to the cabin porch. A short rap at the door prompts Drew to answer. He’s dressed in jeans and a snug Henley-style sweater, and both emphasize his lean muscular build. Brown eyes sit in a pleasant but unremarkable face, and his medium brown eyebrows lift in surprise while he looks me over from head to toe.
“Vivian, the lovely innkeeper, what a pleasant surprise.” He ushers me inside quickly, closing the door behind me. “I would not have thought it was you out there. Interesting. What brings you out to see me?”
Shit. I should have done my yoga pose a few cabins back. Having no idea what he sensed before my approach, I’m going to go with my favorite “ignore it and it will go away” tactic.
“I’m looking for an unregistered guest who might be on the premises. You haven’t included anyone in your party without letting the front desk know, have you?”
Drew smiles while spreading his hands wide. “No, but you’re welcome to check.”
His expression appears knowing and coldly assessing. I plan to play dumb and get through this as fast as I can. Perhaps talking to people while hopped up on John’s blood isn’t a great idea.
I wave him off with a flick of my wrist. “Don’t be silly, I would’ve sensed anyone in the cabin the second I came in, you know that. I’m here to ask if you’ve seen anyone new.”
“I haven’t noticed anyone strange around my cabin, if that’s truly what you’re asking. But it’s not like I’ve been checking either. Should I be?” He gestures to the table and chairs toward the rear of the long room, his intelligent eyes locked on my face.
The cabins each have a small bedroom with a king-size bed, a well-appointed bath and a large living area containing a kitchenette. Accepting his offer, I move to the table and take a seat.
“No, we don’t expect our guests to be checking,” I say.
He’s trying to catch my eye, staring intently at my
face with a pensive look. Why is he staring at me? Could he have sensed my true age for a moment while I was outside? Or did I appear older with the recent drinking from John? I’ve often wondered the exact age I appear to those who can read power signatures well. If he did sense something, I may have invited more trouble on my little fact-finding mission then we need.
Hiding my true age keeps the guests calm. It allows them to unwind, while protecting all the secrets we hold dear. Most vamps will go on high alert when they encounter another undead older than themselves—which wouldn’t be conducive to a relaxing vacation now, would it?
Drew clears his throat and pulls me out of my meandering thoughts. “I like the look of the main building. What made you choose the southern plantation style with the big columns and such?”
Wow, where the hell did that come from? I’m used to the guests asking questions about the place, but the timing feels weird. Maybe I’m being paranoid.
“Rafe and I have traveled extensively and we’ve always thought the mansions down south had a special feel to them. Dignified and refined, yet welcoming at the same time.”
“The sunny yellow siding with black shutters does cast a nice glow against the snow. I think you chose well. The grounds are extensive. I imagine one could come back again and again over the years and still find more to discover.”
“That was our intention. We wanted the guests to always find something new on their tour of the property.”
“Those greenhouses with the UV lighting are a smart investment as well. You can grow fresh essentials for the employees and the guests who require it. You really have thought this out, haven’t you?”
Well, crap, he has been doing a lot of exploring. Normally, it would be fine, but I don’t appreciate the twenty questions. My hopped-up brain is having a hard time sensing nuances in his speech. I need to bail now or try to get this conversation firmly back on track.
Before I have a chance to think up an intelligent topic, Drew fires out yet another question and observation.
“You are more than you appear to be aren’t you, Vivian? That makes me even more intrigued than I was before.”
It’s time to put a stop to his curiosity. Projecting an air of innocence, and some slight confusion at his question, I slip into his mind and push him to doubt what he sensed earlier. “I realize the sturdy jeans, bulky sweater, and heavy down jacket isn’t a look that works on me. But in a pinch, it’ll do to protect my skin.” I smile a vapid grin. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
Drew’s eyes mirror his thoughts perfectly—he thinks I’m a bit of a ditz. Now would be good time to beat a hasty retreat. My earlier curiosity over his choice to visit us by himself will have to be addressed another time. Rising from my seat, I head toward the exit. “I trust your stay here so far has been a good one?”
He looks a bit confused; maybe I pushed too much. Damn. Subtlety is hard when amped on Were blood.
“Uh, yes. The resort has been great, exactly what I needed. Your employees have been a delight. How do they all carry your scent?”
Good, he noticed. That’s the point. I don’t want the guests thinking they can lay claim to someone who strikes their fancy
“Once a month, I fortify the water supply with a cup of my blood.” Drew’s eyes light up at this admission. Maybe I shared too much, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out if anyone really put their mind to it.
Giving the employees my blood may seem like a big step, but it’s not unheard of when employing large numbers of humans. By sharing my blood, I protect them from other vampires—the scent marks them as “mine,” but it also means I can’t feed from them. When there’s a mutual blood exchange between human and an undead, it links them as vampire master and servant. The vampire can “call” them any time through the blood link they share, and the human must respond. I like to think of it as nature’s way of providing the vampire with a reliable food supply, but still, it’s not a power I wish to have over our employees.
“You are quite the clever girl, Vivian. But doesn’t it limit who you feed from?” Drew has put together what a lot of guests overlook. Clearly, he’s not as fuzzyheaded as I’d thought.
“Yes, it does.” I’d intended to question him and instead I’m bumbling through this whole encounter. I need to get the hell out of here. “I haven’t seen you at the bar much. We’re welcoming some new guests tonight. Care to join us?’’
I decide to push him into coming, my eyes lock onto his while I slip into his mind again. Not wanting to go too deep and risk notice, I stay at the surface of his thoughts. I compel him to desire a change from these four walls so he’ll agree to my request.
I need to learn more about him now that he may have sensed my true age. I could wipe the memory of my visit from him, but don’t want to risk the exposure. In reality, I hate subterfuge; it’s not in me. Learning to carefully use my gift has been a challenge my whole undead existence.
There are days I’d rather make everyone do as I say, but that would put the Tribunal’s enforcers on me for sure. The darkness crouching inside me flexes and grows, pushing to the edge of my senses while reaching out to sink its claws into Drew’s pliant mind. It whispers to me: Take what you want. Make him do it.
With smooth precision, I pull myself out of his head while locking the tempting power away. Easing from his surface thoughts, I state my earlier question again to bring his focus back to the present.
“Drew, would you care to join us tonight in the bar?”
I need to tell Rafe about my loss of control. If I’m not myself, he can bring me back from the edge. To mess up could be disastrous to our safety.
Throughout our history, undead with the ability to mind-control other vampires have been tracked down, hooded in silver, and put to death. The long string of bodies behind me to ensure my safety often haunts my dreams. I don’t care to be hunted again and I will not make the same choices as before.
When Drew answers my question about joining us at the bar, I’m pulled out of my fearful inner thoughts. “Yes, it sounds like fun. I’ll be there.”
The twinkle in his eye makes me think he’s anticipating it. That spark was not my doing, so he must have something else on his mind. I finally say my goodbye and leave.
I feel jittery and slightly scared. The encounter could have turned messy if I had gone deep into his mind as my inner monster encouraged. The next time I drink from Jonathan, I think I’ll stay in bed for the day with Rafe and burn off this high in a healthy way.
Extra power can be good, but not when it’s risky. The murder has shaken me more than I’ve been willing to admit. I can think of no other reason why I’m handling this power flush so poorly. It sure as hell hasn’t done this to me any other time.
My meanderings and ruminations have brought me close to cabin two, where the Natsuhara party resides. I hear a muffled scream of pain, which causes my head to whip up. The key is in my hand before I have a chance to think things through. Racing up the steps to the door, I unlock it and slam the heavy wood back in a quick movement. The sight that greets me steals my very breath. Which of course doesn’t stop me from saying the first thing to pop into my head.
“Oh, shit.”
Chapter Seven
“Can I help you?” inquires the tall, leather-clad Asian man. His rigid penis juts out where the black chaps don’t cover, exposing a tight leather cock ring complete with a metal-studded ball separator. His glans glistens with moisture from recent attention. Jet Natushara’s heavy leather biker boots thump as he takes two steps toward me at the door. My eyes rise from the chaps to take in the rest of his ensemble. A finely tooled vest leaves his chest mostly exposed. The black leather showcases the slim dangling silver chain connecting his pierced nipples.
“Shut the door. You’re letting the heat out,” he adds casually.
I move on autopilot, actions independent from thought. Stepping in, I swing the door closed with one hand and stand perfectly still. I ca
n’t stop staring. The sights assailing me have a mixed effect.
Where Jet was standing, there’s a male human companion on his knees dressed like a slave. Wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, he pouts.
A burly man, with a slight paunch, stands across the room. He’s wearing full body leather, complete with a hood.
Crap! By the scent I can tell it’s Bob, one of our ground crew.
Bob wields a whip, lowering his arm at my intrusion. Christ, that’s one for the books. I never would have pegged this leather-encased enforcer as the mild-mannered man who likes to drive the heavy machinery.
Which leaves the last in this foursome to be Natsuhara’s mate, Matt. He must be the naked man spread-eagle and restrained face-first against the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The furniture has been pushed against one wall to give more room. Matt’s head is turned to the side and he’s wearing a ball gag and cage mask. Reminds me of Hannibal Lector’s transport get-up. He sports bloody slash marks across his muscular upper back. Judging by the lack of struggling, eyebrows raised in question, and the state of his huge erection, it’s safe to assume this is all consensual.
I’m torn between wanting to run screaming from the room to bleach my eyeballs and wishing the floor would open up at my feet to swallow me whole.
Snapping back into focus, I realize they are all staring. At me. Why wouldn’t they be? I’m the one who put a pause to the obvious fun. A clearing of a throat brings my wide-eyed gaze back to the eyes of the man in the room wearing the cock ring.
“Uh—I heard a scream and was worried. I apologize for my error. I’ll be going now.” I fumble behind me for the knob, not turning because I can’t look away from all the heated flesh in the room.
Look away! Look away! It’s like a car crash you pass on the highway. You don’t want to see, but can’t stop yourself.
A soft laugh reaches my ears. Jet looks amused by my awkwardness. “Want to join us? We can always make room for one more, especially one with new… parts to explore.”
