The Hunt (9 page)

“I seem to have cut myself,” he says with a smoldering look on his face. “Would you come lick it for me so it heals?”

Desire coils in my gut, as my canines descend at his offer. A tiny sliver of blood wells up in the wound and threatens to drip down onto his hairless sack. I’m on my knees before him in an instant, replacing my hand with his own and pulling his cock to the side so I can access the cut.

My tongue snakes out to lick the beads of crimson that settle at the base while my other hand fondles his balls gently. I latch onto the small injury and suck in a slow draw of pressure. Rafe’s moan of pleasure sounds from above as I start to stroke his hardness in time to my suction.

Wetness gathers at my opening and if I had a third hand, I’d be stroking my own clit. I tug on his sack and draw it gently from his body, all the while kneading the sensitive globes within. It doesn’t take long before the cut seals. My appetite has been aroused and it won’t go quietly back into hiding.

The desire to have him take me wars with the desire to use my teeth to carefully open up a new wound. A glistening bead of pre-cum on his tip makes the decision for me. Lapping delicately with my tongue, the salty fluid contrasts nicely with the richness of his blood. Rafe’s hand cups the back of my head in a silent plea to continue.

I circle his wide head slowly, ensuring enough moisture from my mouth coats the top portion of his shaft. Once it shines like a well-oiled tool, I open my mouth wide to take as much of his thickness in as I can. In his haste to have me go deeper, Rafe moves forward a bit, forcing one of my sharp peaks onto his sensitive skin.

The pain causes him to jerk back slightly, but nothing can stop the trickle of blood from entering my mouth and urging me to suck. Clamping my mouth securely around his shaft
—
never one to waste a drop
—
I will my canines to recede so as to not cause him further damage. Sometimes a little pain in lovemaking can be good and it certainly proves true in this instance.

Skirting the line between pleasure and pain, I can feel Rafe’s thigh muscles tighten as he struggles to stay in place. I snake one hand around his hips to grasp a firm cheek and encourage him to press forward into my mouth more. With a slow push, he thrusts his hips toward me, gaining an inch deeper into my wet mouth.

His rhythm is slow and smooth, pulling back only a little before reseating as deep as I can take him. I release his balls and reach under them to the tight pucker of his ass. The tip of my finger grazes the opening and Rafe gasps at the sensation. Easing my finger in about a half-inch, I stimulate all the nerve endings, which I know are sending electrical jolts to his genitals.

I increase my suction and quicken his thrusts with my hand pressing his ass cheek. Rafe’s breathing sounds ragged and harsh—beautiful music to any lover’s ears.

“I can’t hold off much longer,” he says.

Not one to miss the opportunity for mutual gratification, I pull all my attentions away. The strain of holding off has tightened the muscles in his abdomen and when I look up I see delectable ripples in his mid-section. Running my hands up his thighs to his stomach causes a shudder to run through his body.

“Come catch me,” I say as I launch myself into flight. I make it to the door before a heavy weight slams into me from behind, pinning me to the carpet runner in the hall. I buck back with my hips, dislodging him before he has a chance to wrap his arms around me in an attempt to hold me in place.

I’m up again, only to be pushed into the door leading to our office. The door hinges give under the combined force of our bodies. We crash through the opening, into the room beyond.

The life pulsing through my veins sings with excitement. Rafe may not be the natural predator I am, but he sure as hell makes up for it in sheer determination.

“You want to play, do you?” He says, pressing his full length against me on the carpet with his cock nestling my buttocks.

Not any more. Put it inside me.

Should I tease you for a bit? They way you did me?

Before I have a chance to respond, he takes my wrists in one hand, extending my arms above my head. My face presses sideways against the rug and he can see the desire shining in my eyes. I wiggle my hips in answer, trying to entice him to take me now.

A light touch skims the side of my breast, curving inward to cup my fullness. Fingers tweak and pinch my nipple, as I buck to angle myself for penetration. The head of Rafe’s cock slips down to nestle under my cheeks, but still refuses to enter my dripping wetness.

It would be easy to overpower him right now and take what I want, but that is never the point with a little fun like this. It’s the illusion of being trapped and the trust you have in your partner that makes submitting, even if only briefly in love-play, so enticing.

You sexy little thing
, Rafe says in my mind.
If I had a crop right now, I’d turn your ass pink.

Shivers run down my spine and a slight chill makes me shudder. The mere thought of the sturdy tool hitting my backside sends me into a spiral of desperation to have his dick in me immediately.

Rafe’s hand leaves my breast and in a moment, a soft chenille fabric touches my hip.

“Lift up so I can put this pillow under you.”

I comply and the added support tips me, allowing the perfect angle for entry. My arms, stretched above me, add a subtle tension to the muscles in my body, exaggerating the pull of penetration as he presses forward.

An audible sigh escapes me, “Ahh...”

Rafe’s longer body curves over mine, pushing me into the rug. He releases my wrists from one hand, instead taking my arms, one in each hand, and spreads them out above my head. The anger inside me over Asa, and Joanna’s death, starts to fade at my husband’s light dominance.

Stop thinking about them and think about this...
he punctuates his mental communication with a hard shove of his hips, seating himself deep. Added weight on my upper body and arms is a result of him taking the leverage he needs... and the extra heaviness, pinning me to the floor, adds to my excitement.

Over and over he thrusts within me, building a slow pressure inside with each minute that passes.

“More,” I say. “Give me more.”

Hot breath warms the side of my neck and one of my wrists is set free. Rafe’s hand snakes underneath us and over the pillow, to settle at my hard clit. Wet lips lock onto the area below my ear in a deep, sucking kiss. Closing the toned walls inside me on each inward stroke of his dick brings an excited grunt from my husband.

Pain explodes in my neck as my lover bites down. The skin doesn’t break, but it’s exactly what I need to push me over the edge. I thrash on the floor, into the pillow, and against his questing fingers.

I push the pleasure out of my body to encase my partner in the intensity of the release he’s giving me. The hips pistoning back and forth become erratic as a shout rips from Rafe, pulling his mouth away from my neck.

Shudders rack both our bodies as our orgasms continue on. The thrusts become slower, but his stiffness remains. My weight shifts to the side, off the pillow, as my husband pulls me back against the length of him to lay us together on the rug.

A warm whisper reaches my ear. “You never cease to amaze me,
liebling
.”

I snuggle back into his strong arms to cherish our stolen moment. I know we need to get up and figure out what to do and how to handle the recent events, but they’ll still be there in a few minutes and damned if his dick isn’t still hard.

“Feel up for round two?” I ask, as I turn in his arms and press him down into the floor.

The sweat dripping down the side of my face
into my hair feels good. I don’t think we’ve had such an intense lovemaking session in quite a while. And Lord knows, Dria needed it with the stress the next few hours are bound to bring.

“Don’t shower,” I say to her as she disappears back into the hall. I want my scent to stay on her as long as possible with all the randy wolves on the property.

“You staking a claim, caveman?”

I rise and follow my delectable wife to our bedroom. “Humor me, okay? You may not think it matters, but I know it does.”

She turns back to give me a deep smoldering kiss, as if we hadn’t just done the deed twice. “No worries, love. I think
you
smell divine.”

Dria saunters off to her walk-in closet, which I swear looks like a mini-Nordstrom, to pick some new clothes. She emerges dressed in sturdy jeans, layered over silk long-johns and topped by a black cashmere, body-hugging sweater. I pick something similar for myself—meaning a sweater and jeans, minus the cashmere. We’ll be outside and this is not the season for skimpy.

“We need to chat and plan—you up for it?” she asks.

“No time like the present.” I don’t need to add I always think more clearly after sex—that is, as long as I’m not tired. She knows both after sixty-five years. “Want some coffee?”

She nods in response and settles at the round scarred-up table in our galley kitchen, while I pour us some joe.

“Do you think Emiko killed Melvyn?” she asks, accepting the offered cup.

I take a long sip from my mug before answering. “Based on what we learned, I wouldn’t think so, but I don’t know her well enough to judge.”

Dria’s look becomes pensive while she gazes out the window over the sink, her mug untouched in front of her. “It doesn’t match what we know of her so far. Too messy. And her scent wasn’t there.”

“Well, that’s the kicker isn’t it? Jon said he smelled a trace of the vamp from the earlier occupants in the lobby, right?”

“Yeah, which means it could be any one of our vampire hunters.”

“Any of them seem crazy enough to deviate from the hunt so soon?” I ask.

“Ah, no. Not that I can figure.”

Time to bring up the difficult topic. “You plan on calling the Tribunal about Joanna now or telling this Coraline chick while she’s here?”

“No on both counts, if I can manage it. I know I have to inform them, but I’d rather wait until the week is out.” A sigh escapes her as she slumps back into her chair. “This freakin’ sucks.”

I don’t like seeing my wife down. She’s such a force to be reckoned with, seeing her doubt herself for even a moment makes me want to leap in and fix whatever I can. The only things stopping me are the knowledge she wouldn’t appreciate it and she’d ask if she needs help. That’s not to say I can’t help in small ways.

“I’ll head back to the basement in a bit and see what Asa did with her remains.”

She nods, while tapping her foot in agitation. “I think we need to question Emiko.”

“You mean face to face?”

“Yeah.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

She picks up her mug and cups the warmth in her hands a moment before taking a small sip. “I was thinking we could track her movements on the property while waiting for more info to come in.” Her eyes start to light with the mischievous glint I know so well. “I’d bet my fortune that things are not what they seem in regard to the charges against her.”

Now I’ll see if I can get her to reach out to friends she doesn’t admit to herself she has. “Would you consider calling Rolando?”

“Do you really think he’d tell me anything of value?”

“He might. You won’t know unless you try.” The scowl on her face makes me realize I need to back off and let her come to the decision on her own.

The opening bars of “I Drink Alone”, by George Thorogood, chime from my discarded cell phone on the counter. Tipping my chair back on two legs, I reach out and snag it off the counter. I flip it open as the chair legs touch back down to the tile.

“Yello?” Two recent orgasms have put me in a mellow mood, to say the least, despite the trouble we’re facing.

Asa’s hesitant voice reaches me from the other end. “Sightings of Emiko have come in from Bebe, Don, and Stephen. All separately over the past thirty minutes. No contact was made with the fugitive. The others haven’t reported in yet. The cameras showed Stan was out by the apartments with Sanji about fifteen minutes ago. No report from the wolves yet.”

“Have you heard from Cy?”

“No, but the sun is up in New York. We may not hear from him ‘til later.”

“Has the equipment on the control desk been replaced?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, I’ll be down in a few.” I snap the phone closed and look over at Dria. “You know, I think he meant to do good. Try not to judge him too harshly.”

Her face sets in a frozen mask, devoid of emotion. “Time will tell, won’t it?”

Without another word, she sets her mug back down and rises from the table. She grabs her big, fur-lined coat hanging by the backdoor, steps into her waiting boots, opens the door, and slips out into the frigid air.

I need some time to think before I call Rolando. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

I want to be here when you call him.

Yeah, okay.

And with that, she melts into the darkness. There isn’t as much anger whirling around in her head as there was prior to our romp in the office. She seems to be doing okay, but I’ll have to watch her around Asa for a bit. When under pressure, she has a tendency to lash out and ask questions later.

She keeps me on my toes—that’s for damn sure. Like herding a lion. Never kid yourself into believing the lion isn’t going where it wants, which just happens to coincide with where you want it to go for a brief moment.

Taking another gulp, I move to top off my coffee before heading out to the front desk. I’ll put off going downstairs until Dria comes back.

The clattering of pots and pans from the commercial kitchen greets me as I open the security door from our suite. Our back-up chef stands behind a stainless-steel counter.

“How’s it going, Stephanie?”

She jumps a bit at my voice. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t hear you come in. Things could be better.” Her eyes dart away while she adjusts the white apron covering her ample hips. “We’re going through a lot of food with Paul experimenting on his shift.”

“Do you think a sous-chef, to help him as a taster, might be a good idea?”

Her face brightens and loses its pinched, worried expression. “Yes, I think that might work.”

“Anyone you have in mind suitable for the job?”

“How about Diane?”

I picture Dr. Cook’s daughter, who joined the staff last year: pretty, curvy… a wild, sexy streak in her a mile wide. Not a good choice around Paul right now. Hmm... I hate how cold and calculating I am right now—but who would be a better choice not to encourage him to snap and possibly cheat on his wife? My mind settles on one of the single men.

“I think Diane is an asset where she is right now. How about Bob?”

She chokes back her surprise. “The big guy from the ground crew?”

“Yeah. Set things up with him. Now that I think about it, we really just need a taster for a few hours a week, not a true sous-chef. Paul can handle the rest of the work on his own.”

“Okay, sir. I’ll set it up.”

Nodding my thanks, I head for the lobby. There’s a slight figure leaning against the front desk, with his back to me. As I approach, the man turns and I see that it’s Sanji’s companion... the calm one. Damn... his name was...?

“Vikram,” he says, reaching his hand out to shake my own.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me. There have been a lot of new faces recently. Is there something we can do for you?”

“No. I’m good.” He radiates good will and a surge of energy. “Just checking to see if there has been any news from Sanji.” He shifts his weight from side to side, like he has to pee or something.

“Nothing so far. They should be good for a few more hours and then will come in to feed and warm up.”

“Fine. I’m off to the game room,” he nods his goodbye and turns to head toward the north wing.

Tommy’s behind the front desk and I raise my eyebrows at him in question, “Anything else come up?”

“Nope, it’s been pretty quiet, mate,” he looks down at some pink slips scattered across his workstation. “Wait, a message did come in from cabin two.”

My ears perk up. That’s where the dead English werewolf was found. Now if that doesn’t sound like a movie plot, then I don’t know what does. “Yes?”

“He was checking to see if Jet was ready to head out.”

“Did you relay the message to Jet?”

“I haven’t seen him. I activated the message light on his and Matt’s room, but they haven’t checked with me yet.”

Interesting. I wonder if Jet stopped by Melvyn’s cabin to get a wolf snack and got carried away? Or maybe he made sexual advances on the lone wolf and Melvyn wasn’t game? Considering Jet brought Matt with him and never seems to want for a plaything, that scenario seems unlikely.

“Thanks, Tommy.” His crooked smile flashes at me from under a poorly-set broken nose.

Dria abruptly breaks into my thoughts,
Hey, I’m back and I’m about to call.

Would it kill you to wait for me?
I project my agitation at her statement.

Afraid you might miss some good gossip?

Don’t push me away like the others while you work through your distrust issues.
I snap back at her.
I won’t allow it.

Fine, Mister Complainer. Then hurry up.

I know her anger isn’t directed at me, so I refrain from lashing back. It’s hard, but I’ve had years of experience dealing with the walls she erects around herself. The connection between us cuts off and I glance down at the pink paper in the young Aussie’s hand.

“Hey Tommy, don’t worry about the message. Give it to me and I’ll take care of it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He hands it to me and I turn back the way I came.

Taking a deep breath, I try to push out the irritation Dria stirred in me. At times, the powerful vamp acts more like a paranoid general—one who sees those in her command as spies and disloyal. Her past experience in Mikov’s seethe as a young woman, and then as a young vampire, certainly taught her those instincts the hard way.

This recent issue with Asa could set her off for the whole week. Defusing her anger and redirecting her focus will be my biggest challenge over the next few days. Perhaps some more hot, sweaty sex will be on the agenda.

A small grin forms on my face as I wander back through the dining room and kitchen to our suite. More sex and no more dead bodies—that should do the trick.

The peace from our darkened living room is marred by my wife’s pacing, the cordless phone clutched firmly in one hand.

“Took you long enough.” I ignore her taunt, knowing its true source.

“I have only a few hours before the sun comes up in Buenos Aires.”

I nod and walk past her to the kitchen. I think the carafe still has some coffee left. Pouring myself the last cup, I add some creamer as Dria finally succumbs and calls.

“This is Dria McAndrews, I’d like to speak with Rolando.”

There is a pause for a few minutes while the current gofer answering the phones tracks down the member from the Inner Circle. Rolando isn’t an Ancient yet, but his spot close to them as an advisor is a much-coveted one.

My enhanced human senses, thanks to sharing Dria’s blood, range pretty close to those of a vampire. I can easily hear both ends of a phone conversation, a great skill to have when you have a pacing wife on your hands.

Rolando’s smooth voice comes on the line. “Why Dria, what a pleasant surprise. I take it you’re enjoying Coraline’s presence?”

“Can it, you hack. A phone call of warning would have been nice.”

Rich laughter floats across the line before he settles down enough to respond. “There were orders no one should reveal plans—to anyone, not just you. The choice of who got to go wasn’t even announced until an hour prior to take-off.”

“Hmph.”

“Whatever did you do to earn the hateful gleam I saw in Cora’s eye before she boarded the plane?”

Dria waves a hand dismissively, “Bygones. Let’s just say it’s professional jealousy and leave it at that. What can you tell me about Emiko?”

“Let me first ask—what do you know already?”

“A contact did some research for me and uncovered she was trained in ninjutsu before being turned over two centuries ago, but that’s it so far.”

“Good, so you have some idea of who you’re dealing with. She’s highly skilled. I wouldn’t doubt it if most of your hunters are killed before the end of the week.”

Dria winces at his last statement. “That would not be good for business.”

Rolando’s humor comes through loud and clear. “No, I bet it wouldn’t.”

“What can you tell me from her time serving the Ancients?”

“She’s a skilled enforcer, her success ratio was almost as high as yours.” My wife rolls her eyes at his statement, but it makes me wonder if there couldn’t have been some “professional jealousy” from others brewing against the slight, Asian vamp as well. “She served about five years before she snapped.”

“Snapped?”

“Quite shocking really. She tore apart five officials in one night and then placed the remains of their bodies near one of our hidden street entrances. The news and media had a field day.”

“But why? Did anyone think to ask?”

“Her claim of innocence could not be corroborated.”

“Wait
—
so she’s essentially guilty until proven innocent?”

“This is not the U.S. judicial system we’re dealing with, you know.” The rounded tones of Rolando’s Latino accent reveal a slight reprimand in his rejoinder. “Her scent was on the bodies, they were killed by shuriken and chopped up with a katana—her chosen weapons.”

“Was there a trial?”