I head away from the lobby, pleased that I've had a chance to greet them all by name and shake their hands. I learned a lot in each little touch. The mated pair, Liam and Francesca, have been together a long time, about forty years. What she really wants is to finally rule him, but hasn't had a chance to fulfill her inner fantasy yet. Liam, in turn, desires for her to be happy.

Domination is a pretty common fantasy I deal with here, hence the two dungeon rooms. Both rooms are outfitted with special silver restraints to hold vamps. It's a big step in trust for most of our kind and I wonder if Liam has refused or if Francesca has not approached him with it.

Liam will be the biggest obstacle; he likes to have power and has trouble letting go. I will take them on a tour of the rooms on the third floor tomorrow and see if I can pique their interest without my input. If not, I'll give them a nudge.

The rooms up there are just a delight, in an evil I-want-sex-now kind of way. The west wing holds room eleven, which looks like a Moroccan desert lair. Suite twelve mirrors an old schoolroom. Thirteen's fashioned after a gym. And room fourteen's inspired by the classic baths of Rome.

The north wing graduates to a bit naughtier; fifteen and sixteen are done up like dungeons; and seventeen sports the nickname of the "orgy room." Oh, the fun those rooms have seen!

To the east, we have room eighteen, stylized after an English manor gentleman's library, complete with dark wood, leather wing-back chairs and a fireplace. Nineteen looks like an Irish pub, and twenty resembles a nightclub. Not all rooms are the same size but are large enough to accommodate a good-sized group. Those last three rooms are located over the pool on the main level. They are not normally rented out; these rooms are where the guests can mingle and interact with each other.

Rafe, love, what are you doing?

Afraid I might be slacking off, your highness, and you're cracking the whip?

Um... no... I was hoping you could check with Tommy and see if we have anyone signed up for a tour of the fun floor tomorrow.

Yeah, I'll check. Learn anything interesting with the guests?

Yes, I did, I'll fill you in later. Going to check and see if there is any magic in the rooms yet.

Sure. You're a horny little devil with a voyeuristic streak in you.

I smile at the thought his words conjure.

Maybe.

Gently closing the connection between us, I try to focus my thoughts back on the guests. I bet I'm not the only one who's feeling like a horny little devil and perhaps that's the reason for Rafe's uncharacteristic sharpness. Built-up testosterone can do strange things to some men's normally sunny dispositions. Keeping them happy requires frequent releases.

Antonio could be the type of guy who thinks he "needs" lots of releases but doesn't take the time to have quality ones. My touch during our handshake revealed he is new to this seethe, only five years. His greatest desire had my stomach doing flips: He wants to fall in love. Antonio has been without a mate his whole afterlife.

The companion in this group, Olivia, craves him with every cell of her being. One touch was enough for me to see the depth of love she has for the sultry Italian vamp. Also a newcomer, she has only been with the MacKellans for a few months. Olivia set her sights to catching Antonio. He certainly enjoys what she has to offer, taking her quite often; the bigger question is why has he not marked her yet?

The last female vamp, Joanna, came here just to relax. She tagged along with the others out of friendship, having no hidden desires to fulfill on this trip. Joanna can't wait to try the resort's downhill and cross-country skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiles, ice-skating, and tubing. She plans to enjoy everything and rest by the indoor pool. I even see she's contemplating a spray tan while she's here to surprise the rest of the seethe on her return.

I head back upstairs to the second floor, past rooms two, three and four in the west wing, to see how Salvador's party is doing. They came for a two-week extended trip. Sal and his wife Theresa come every year, yet they still have a honeymoon quality to them.

Their group indulges in the rooms on the third floor almost daily, even if only to mingle in the bar for a few hours. The time Rafe and I spend in the bar each night mixing with our guests helps us gauge who might need my particular brand of guidance. As on previous visits, Salvador's group has not needed any help from us.

The smell of fresh blood from John Pierre has dissipated completely, thanks to our excellent filtration system. With luck, the new arrivals will think any remaining traces are deliberate, to whet their appetites.

At the end of the landing, I enter one of the reading parlor areas overhanging the lobby. Opening a secret door only myself, Rafe and Jonathan know of, I slip into one of the observation rooms designed into each floor.

We use them to listen and watch during feedings or to see where I might need to lend a hand, or a tongue, while projecting to our guests. In twenty years, we've had no violent incidents. True violence, not the love-hidden-in-jealousy type. It's never come up and I don't think it ever will. But someone must have felt something or we wouldn't have a dead John Pierre chilling in the shed, right?

Too bad we never installed a recording system in the setup, which would have resolved the mystery of John Pierre and who killed him. Right now, the observation room links a bunch of closed-circuit cameras on a single monitor screen, with a mouse to toggle between rooms.

The thought of recording my guests rubs me wrong but not a little healthy voyeurism. How else am I to know where I might be needed?

I wake the system and click room two.

No one there.

Move to room three.

Oh, lots going on there.

It all looks good. Is that an elbow? Everyone seems quite happy so I move on down the line. Room four... hmm... now what is this? Looks like-yes, I think it's Sheba. She's one of Salvador's companions. She appears to be crying. I send out a wave of calm while watching. Sheba takes a deep inhale then straightens. I'm not sure what's going on there; I'll need to check on her later.

A few more clicks change the picture to room seven. Liam and Francesca seem to be getting it on in a big way. I knew the warm-up in the lobby would get some blood moving. I leave them to it and venture on to room eight. Lo and behold, I've struck pay dirt. I catch the end of the stunning Antonio stripping down nude.

Oh, he's the reason these cameras are just golden. My, my, my, he's just a long drink of water now, isn't he? His body could pass for a carving of Adonis-all hard edges and sculpted muscles. Knowing he's undead, he must have looked like this before his change. I can see why his maker chose him; anyone would be hard pressed to ignore the perfection of his body, once revealed.

Staring at the glorious form of Antonio makes me think of Rafe again. He's never far from my thoughts. Figuratively and literally.

Rafe, honey, you still hot and ready?

What do you think?

I'll be done soon and coming to get you...

A growl of anticipation filters through our connection. Bring it on, I'm ready.

He leaves me wondering where he might be. My husband's talent at blocking me improves with use and I couldn't place exactly where he's located this time. It could be because I'm distracted by the flesh displayed on the monitor.

Judging by the fastidious actions to fold his soiled clothes, I bet he's going to go wash up to remove the remains of his earlier lobby orgasm from his body. I relax, imagining his scent filling my nostrils: musky, sexy and dark. A pure delight to my nose. Moisture starts to slip from inside me again, coating me in wetness. I impulsively decide to project a waking dream to the unsuspecting Antonio. The live video feed will show the exact moment he starts to feel my images take hold in his mind.

He becomes fully aroused in the span of a few heartbeats, thickening and rising from his groin right before my eyes. He's a delicious piece of masculinity, which encourages my fingers to reach down and grab the hem of my dress. This time though, I'm not going to get him off. He deserves a tease.

I send an illusion of a woman on her knees in front of him. The blond hair will remind him of Olivia, but I don't add clear features so he can't place the face.

Antonio shakes his head as though in a daze but still reaches a hand out to guide the woman's head closer. I push the feel of a wet mouth encircling his swollen head, triggering a loud groan of appreciation. The blond dream girl starts to pump, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and tempo. She slows to lick at his hard length, trying to give a proper tongue lashing, but he presses his hips forward, wanting none of it. He appears greedy for another release, so soon after his first one in the lobby. Interesting.

I work my dress up my thighs but don't go any further. I know my own limits and want to save myself later for the hunt. If Rafe tries, he can feel the blood rushing through my system and what I'm seeing on the screen. The thought turns me on more, forcing a grunt of frustration from my lips, followed by a squirm on the hard chair. I still manage to keep my hands in place, but damn, it's hard.

Focusing again on the screen, I see Antonio appears lost in the moment. I project Olivia's name in his mind as the woman at his feet disappears. His head whips up to search the room. Antonio's whole body throbs with desire. He looks momentarily caught off guard, confusion clear on his visage.

Sitting back, I watch to see what he'll do.

His chest muscles rise and fall as he labors to steady himself. Antonio's head whips toward the door. He bolts into the bathroom with his dirty clothes in hand. A split second later, Joanna enters with her bags.

Damn, that was a close one. I forgot they only had three rooms between the five of them. I stop my meddling for the moment to go check on room four as I'd originally intended.

By the time I rearrange my clothes, curse myself for getting worked up again so fast, and trudge down the hallway, room four stands empty. No Sheba. Let's hope she wandered off to talk to someone to get past the tears. I'll check again later to be sure.

Having nothing to distract me any longer, I turn my thoughts to a hunt. My body craves to be filled and a little distance from this new group would be prudent. The scorching inner desire to play with them runs rampant in me, but the long evening will give me plenty of time for such indulgences.

I close my eyes in the hall, allowing the whole hotel to come into sharp focus in my mind.

Where would my husband be? I sniff the air, hoping to scent him. Wandering through the north wing, I try to pick up his trail from earlier. The smell takes me down past the lobby through a hall, which leads to an exit heading to the shed. My vamp senses are on high alert, enabling me to make it all the way down the stairs and to the door without opening my eyes.

Rafe senses my anticipation; I allow it to leak through to get him in on my game.

Run, baby, run. You know I love a good chase.

His answering chuckle resounds in my head before he closes the mental door. The game is on. My body hums with life. In the span of seconds, I realize he did not come back through this door any time today. The choices are to go out into the snow to pick up his trail or try another spot to detect when he came back in.

One glance down at my heels and I opt for logic, retreating to try another entrance.

I pick up signs of Rafe again in our private kitchen, no surprise there, but it seems stronger by a door leading out back. Could my own desire be playing tricks on my mind? Only time will tell.

Having to sort through all the leads he has left over the past few hours to find the freshest, takes time and requires a patience I don't have right now. The strongest takes me down the hall into our bedroom. Trying to discern anything in here, where we have shared so many hours of passion, proves pointless.

The files Tommy had delivered rest on a side table, but I have no time for them right now. Ten minutes into the hunt and if I had panties on, they'd be soaked. I pause again in the hall to let my senses flow out past the walls, hoping to catch my prey.

Where is he hiding? What space does he think is safe from me? He loves to be caught yet loves to outwit me. Desire sings through my veins, making my blood feel hot under my skin. Opening my mind up to discover his location, I'm greeted by darkness.

Trying to cheat, my dear?

The bastard has the nerve to say it with a grin.

It is not cheating, I answer. It's called hunting. With an advantage.

Sure, keep telling yourself that. But I can tell you, the longer you take, the more inclined I might be to start without you...

Cheeky son of a bitch! Oh, we're ON all right. I concentrate, which allows me to hear his zipper go down.

Oh no, you don't, that's MINE!

In a flash, I pinpoint him. Racing down the hall, I wrench open a door then fly down the stairs. He's hiding in the basement workroom. The lights are off, but I can hear his ragged breathing. He's as turned on as I am and loves that he can drive me this crazy.

"What took you so long, liebling? Didn't want to arrive after the party started, did you?" He wraps a hand around his arousal.

Words are beyond me right now. I can see him in the dark, which makes his fully clothed, zipper-open position even sexier. He gives his thick erection a stroke, moaning out his enjoyment when his fist reaches the tip. I slip off the sleeves of my dress and let it puddle on the floor at my feet. Stepping out, I'm wearing only a bra, thigh-high stockings and heels.

I stalk over to his hiding spot up against a wall in the corner. Jumping up, I wrap my arms around his shoulders while placing my heels on the wall to either side of his waist. His cock rests in his hand, offering guidance to help me mount him.

A harsh breath escapes him as I lower slowly down the shaft while fastening my mouth to his neck. My sharp teeth gently break his delectable skin as I shout in his mind.

MINE!

The sweet taste of his blood flows into my mouth as he responds.

Technically, it's attached to me, but I'll let you borrow it.

The small puncture on his neck releases very little blood with my first taste. The snarky rejoinder from him becomes a thing of the past with my first deep pull.

Rafe grabs my hips and jerks himself forward in response. In two thrusts, he's seated all the way in.

"God, you feel like a fist wrapped around me."

"Mmm... " I murmur against his neck, unwilling to let go yet.

Never taking more than a mouthful or two, I savor every drop I ingest from his glorious body. His cock slides out from my sheath slowly. The sheer size of him pulls the skin while forcing my body to stretch and accommodate, even as he withdraws. Never has any lover fit me this well; it's like he was made a little bit bigger than I'd need. The teasing I've experienced all afternoon through my projections has left me moist, open and ready.

Drawing more blood will only make him peak faster, so I stop, wanting to draw out our enjoyment. Sometimes, reading my lover's mind is not a bad thing.

Not yet, not yet... got to hang on... God, she feels so wet... so damn tight... slow down...

I know he doesn't mean to project, but our tight bond permits most surface thoughts to leak through.

His voice sounds rough. "Stop, slow down, Dria. I don't want to come yet. I'm so damn close."

He pushes in deep, holding my hips firmly against him. His strong hands lock me in place, making it impossible for me to pull back and ride him no matter how much I'm aching to. I start to squirm, writhing a bit on him, using my actions to beg him to continue.

I seal the small wound with a tiny lick, then draw back from his neck. Drinking from him pushes me closer to the edge as well. I hold still to allow him to catch hold of the sensations raging through his body, but my inner muscles start to convulse around him.

"No!" he shouts. It will push me over. I'm not through with you yet!

The twitching and spasms continue whether I want them to or not.

I can't hold back!

Rafe pulls me from his cock.

In one swift motion, he lifts my whole body up to center my opening at his face. His hot lapping tongue zeros in on my clit; soft lips lock onto my swollen ones. My head and arms are close to the ceiling, so I reach up to grab the rafters to steady myself.

Rafe tightens his lips and sucks. It pushes me over the edge, with bright white light exploding behind my eyes.

Throwing my head back, I shout my release to the room. It comes out a bit like a small scream, and causes me to lock my thighs around his head while riding out the waves of pleasure.

When I think I'm coming down, he snakes his hand around from my hips, moistens a finger in my pussy, and pulls back to tickle my rear opening. The wetness helps him to slide a thick digit in. Nice and slow.

It feels like an electric shock from my ass to my clit.

I gasp, sucking in air as I feel myself pushed back up the hill of my next orgasm. I let go of the rafters for Rafe to ease me down his body while he keeps a finger deep in place. My hard nipples push against the inside of my bra as I slide down, feeling the soft knit of his polo on my descent.

I shiver at the erotic picture we make of him fully clothed and me almost nude. When my heels touch down, I look up into his passion-filled gaze.

"Got to work this tight little ass of yours if I'm going to get back in any time soon," he whispers softly, pushing his thick finger in and out of my tight pink bud.

He knows I love anal play. It takes a lot of preparation on my end because of his size. Sometimes, I think the warm-up for the event is just as much fun. Thankfully, so does he. It took me nearly a decade to discover he'd enjoy the same sensations I do, and boy has that been fun to explore.

He leans a bit down, hunching around my body so he can angle himself to watch his finger go deep into my pert bottom. I'm on my tiptoes in my heels and lean into him as the feelings of fullness start to overwhelm me. My hips move back and forth a bit on their own volition. His left hand leaves my side to journey to my front, and two fingers plunge deep inside my pussy. Not to be outdone, I reach out to his jutting cock, grabbing it in a firm grasp to pleasure him as well.

Rafe sucks in his breath while pulling his lower-half back, successfully breaking his member from my grip.

"Not yet," he says.

My response comes out as a whimper. The sensations of being entered from my front and back are so intense, I feel like there's molten lava brewing inside me. The pressure starts to build again and I want more.

I need your cock back inside.

Rafe responds by pulling his hands away then sweeping an arm out to clear the workbench. Tools scatter haphazardly to the ground, clattering as they land. I'm seized roughly by my waist and slammed down hard onto the dirty, waist-high table. Something digs into my back and my head feels wedged against a steel vise. The moment he presses against my wet, hot center, I cease to care where I am.

I draw my thighs up to rest against his chest. His left arm wraps over my legs to hold them together while the other drags me across the bench toward him. My body angles down off the surface, giving him the best position to thrust inside.

I growl out, "Hard, I want it hard."

Rafe grunts, his body reacting with a steady rhythm. The pressure increases with each plunge as he slams into me with increasing strength. His movements cause the workbench to creak under the strain.

"More!" I bark out harshly. Going to come... come with me... Now!

Rafe's hips piston with a last burst of energy. My back arches as I throw my head back, flailing blindly for his chest. I grab hold of both of his nipples and twist them while I let go. Wave after wave of release crashes over me, tightening my inner walls with each pulse.

The scream building in my throat works its way out as my vision clouds and goes black. It seems like the moans I'm hearing from Rafe come from a great distance. I know he's reached his peak too, but I'm so far gone, I can't tell much of the details.

God, Viv, that was good. I needed it.

I can't help but laugh. That's my husband, the master of the obvious.