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