“Modified black jack,” a young vampire shuffling a deck of cards states. He’s behind the table facing the crowd, while chips are tossed into a pile from the waiting vamps. “Highest hand from two cards, without going over twenty-one, wins her for the night. Tie for best cards settled with a second hand.” He motions an arm to the woman on display. “She hasn’t fed a vampire in a month. She’s aroused and ready to go.”
To emphasize his words, the young woman slips a hand between her legs, drawing up the short robe as she fingers her swollen nether lips.
“Come, my dear,” Dria says while the eager vampires step up to receive two cards from the deck. “You won’t be able to handle the rest.”
“What? Why? They aren’t going to hurt her are they?”
A throaty laugh spills from my semi-immortal wife. “No, darling. But the winner is going to feed from her in front of the ones who lost… and sometimes they wind up doing more than feeding.”
I’ve been to Tribunal parties where public sex happened on stages, and lots of semi-private pairings, like we heard in the alcove—and a few rare gatherings that had a BDSM feel to them. But I’ve never been to one that gambled with sex.
“Fascinating,” I say as the whoop from the winner reaches my ears. We head to another table with the name “The Best Bite” broadcast on a lighted sign. Female names and times show on an electronic scoreboard, and stacks of chips on a red felt betting table cover other names spread across the width.
A tuxedoed male vampire with long blond hair tied in a ponytail steps forward and says to the gentleman taking bets, “Put me down for a thousand on Gerald, I bet he can make Veronica come for over two minutes.” The man’s bet is taken, and he turns, catching a glimpse of us.
“Alexandria! You’re not entering the challenge are you?” He smiles and quickly kisses my wife square on the mouth, like I’m not standing next to her. Arrogant prick. “If you are I’m changing my bet. You always were quite talented in making it last well past the others.”
“Hello, Daniel. Good to see you. You do remember my husband, Rafe?”
Daniel looks to me and a brief flash of recognition crosses his features. “Oh yes, how could any of us forget the big strapping German who caught your eye and turned you monogamous?” He offers me a hand and a genuine smile to show he’s teasing. “No harm, old man. We had our fun decades before you were born.”
I ignore the slow burn in my gut, not willing to rise to the bait. I know well my wife’s sexual appetites before we were together; after all, she didn’t turn into this sensual creature who feeds off of lust after meeting me. But, I also know none of the dalliances in the last few centuries touched her heart…. or she would have kept one of them.
“Really? She never mentioned you.” I smile with all my teeth, to show I did mean the sting. Nothing deflates a guy’s ego as much as finding out he’s so unmemorable in a woman’s life she doesn’t even mention him to her husband.
Play nice, honey. You know I don’t remember the encounters because they meant nothing to me… literally. Just a means to an end.
Oh, I do know. That’s why it’s so fun to rub it in.
“Don’t mind him, Daniel,” Dria says with warmth I know she’s not feeling. “We’re both tired from the flight. Arrived late last night.”
He turns from me and shines a charming smile at my wife. “Are you staying in the city? I’d love to get together after this for a… chat. Assuming your husband lets you out alone?” A glint of something more lingers in his eye, and I hold back the urge to punch the fucker in the face. As if any human mate would be able to tell their vampire spouse what to do. Jackass is trying to piss me off.
“We’re staying on the premises.” Dria’s eyes travel away from Daniel, dismissing his unspoken offer as if it was never implied. “I’m sure if you’re around we’ll meet up.”
A slight grimace passes over Daniel’s Nordic features, but he quickly hides it. The betting behind him heats up, and he turns his attention to the action. Dria tugs my hand and we walk down the line of bidding vampires, passing a display of women wearing ball gowns and standing on raised platforms.
“No skimpy clothes at this one?” I ask. “No nubile young woman feeling herself up to get their interest flowing? Seems rather staid compared to the last offering.”
Dria smiles her famous enigmatic grin, indicating she’s either amused, pissed off, or not really paying attention. “The contestant must bring her to orgasm with just their bite and is not allowed to touch her genitals for added stimulation. The longest orgasm wins.”
My mind travels back to the tantric bite we shared when Dria turned Paul on the icy path in Alaska. “Huh.” That orgasm she gave me was a full body release lasting minutes on end, and she never touched my cock. I’m not really sure of the exact duration because I wasn’t timing it. “I bet you did well at this game.”
She looks at me sideways, the corner of her mouth curving in a smirk. “I always won.” My half-stiff cock threatens to turn into full arousal at the memory of that cold night. Yeah, it sucked Paul had to be turned, but damn, that was an interesting bite.
We stroll to a craps table as the bidding continues behind us. “Maybe we could go back and watch that one when the game begins?”
Dria turns to me and pulls my head down to hers. She kisses me hard, pouring her passion for me into the exchange, in front of all the attending vampires. The evening is still early, my love. Can you hold back for a little longer, or must I satisfy you now because you’re too riled up?
I break off our kiss and turn to the craps table. I’m not some schoolboy who has no discipline… But, to be honest, I am affected by all the sex swirling around us.
She smiles and steps up the table, preparing to bet. You’re not expected to be immune to it. If the vampires rouse the sexual appetites of all the humans, their own subsequent feedings will be more exciting and passion filled. The entire event is calculated to bring maximum pleasure for everyone attending.
Yeah, I figured as much when we attended the live sex show a few years back. You and I barely made it to a deserted room in time. I smile at the memory while signaling to a chip girl circulating through the crowd. Peeling off ten one hundreds from my money clip, I hand them to the young woman dressed like a woodland fairy and collect chips for my wife.
Dria turns to me with one gloved hand raised to receive the chips. Yes, but we weren’t trying to discover who knows about my manipulator capabilities back then. She faces the table and leans over the side to place her bet, her movements pulling the satin fabric of her dress tight across her ass in the process.
More than one man eyes my wife’s backside before I step forward and nestle myself behind her. She straightens and looks over her shoulder at me. “Want to blow on the dice before I toss them?”
I lean and pucker my lips, blowing softly on the cubes laid in her gloved palm, staring intently into my lover’s green eyes while I do so. Aroused heat sparks her gaze, threatening to overwhelm her motives for only a moment before she stifles her growing urges with ease.
I check out the other occupants surrounding the table and see mostly vampire men. I can’t help but notice the event seems like an undead sausage party, regarding the ratio of male to female vampires. Why has this escaped my attention before?
Dria tosses the die while I mentally ask, How many female vampires are there?
The cubes roll to a stop at the end of the table. A two and a five show face up. The group cheers and Dria is handed the dice again while bets are placed. I don’t have an exact number for you, but I’d say as a norm there are two to three times as many males who survive past fledgling status than females.
Why?
Most of the women are killed by other women, proving we’re far more power hungry than the males.
I place my hands on her hips when she offers the dice again for me to blow. Cora pushes her way through the gathering and looks at the two of us with a snarl of hatred on her face. “How
about we make the stakes more interesting on this hand?” No telling what that nasty bitch has in mind. “Or can you not throw dice well under pressure, Alexandria the Great?”
The excited tension surrounding the gambling table pauses as attention shifts to Coraline. I have no doubt the oldest bloodsuckers know exactly who my wife was when an enforcer, but I still don’t understand why it bothers Coraline so much. A man of Asian descent with long black hair responds to her question, “What did you have in mind?”
Cora glances around the table, her gaze lingering on the human companions standing behind the betting vampires. “Why not a blood bet? Highest winner on a losing roll gets to taste the dice thrower’s date?”
All eyes swivel to me and I suddenly feel like a bachelor auctioned as an escort at a charity event. I never would have thought this many male vampires preferred men, but they’re looking at me like they might want a piece of me. Then again, she did say blood, not sex. I resist the self-preserving urge to shrink from a group of hungry predators and hold my ground, gripping my wife’s hips more firmly to convey my displeasure at the suggestion.
I never needed to worry. Anger leaks from Dria and pushes out to encompass the entire table in one fell swoop of power. A buzzing tingle coats my skin, feeling like the blood rushing through a limb that fell asleep. The energy shuts down almost as quick as it occurred, but those standing near us cannot doubt its origins.
A few gasps sound as Cora’s smile grows larger at Dria’s slip. Bitch orchestrated the whole thing.
My wife’s voice comes in a rough whisper, expressing great control, “I do not share what is mine.” She crushes the dice in her hand and sprinkles the dust on the felt. A dark-skinned vampire of Arabic descent standing near Coraline studies Dria with a calculated eye.
My wife pushes from the edge of table and stalks off to collect herself. Cora watches her leave then shifts her attention back to me. Gaming has stopped while the others absorb what they felt and what just happened. Cora’s eyes narrow on me. “I wonder what makes you so special?”
“It’s called love.” I reply before turning away. “You should try it sometime.”
Chapter Twelve
Asa
Jerry settles onto the couch in Vivian and Rafe’s small office. The gray light of early evening shines through the window as I flick on a desk lamp. Grabbing an armchair, I drag it to the resident electrician’s side. I take a seat and stare into the old engineer’s hazel eyes, mentally preparing myself that this man I admire could actually be our shooter.
Pushing out my will, I lay a mind compulsion in my words. “You will answer all of my questions truthfully.”
He nods and sits forward, running a hand through his gray hair and messing it up. “Let’s get this over already. I’ve got plans with Margery later. Assuming she’s not patching up more guests, that is.”
“Did you shoot any wolves yesterday or today?”
“No.”
“Do you know of anyone employed here who hates Jon’s wolf-dogs enough to go after them?”
A snort comes from Jerry as he looks away and then back to me. “No one would harm those dogs after what they did to protect the children when Ivan was loose last fall.”
Good point. I wondered at the validity of that question when Jon presented it. “Does anyone besides you have silver bullets?”
He shrugs and settles back on the couch. “Not that I know of. Only Margery and you bloodsuckers know I have them and make my own.”
Jerry is one of the few on the resort who doesn’t donate blood and knows what we are. I have no idea why Vivian allows it, but I’m sure she has her reasons. Seems odd that he’d tell the aging doctor about his silver bullets. “Why does the doctor know?”
“Because I love her, you fool.” He grumps and gets to his feet, looming over me in his indignation. “A man shouldn’t keep secrets from the woman he loves.”
Knowing my vamp whammy is still in place whether I stare at him or not, I continue my questions. “Have you seen any new faces recently on the property?”
“No.” He paces to the door.
“Where did you go on leave?”
Jerry spins back around, a spark of anger lighting his face. “I went to Fairbanks. Are we almost through here?”
I rise from the chair and walk to the older man. I stare into his hazel eyes and say, “You will forget this conversation and think we discussed an upcoming change to the generators.”
“Fine.” Not missing a beat, he opens the door then turns back at me. “Get me those plans for approval before you order anything, got it?”
I smile and nod my head. “Yes, sir. You have my word.”
He storms through the kitchen, passing Romeo and Elsa seated with Jon at a round table. The back door slams on his way out, and the three alphas look to me. “He wasn’t involved. Doesn’t know of anyone who could be doing the shooting, and no one else has silver ammo—as far as he knows.”
Before questioning Jerry, Romeo came in with another male Were from his pack. Each man carried the bleeding form of an injured werewolf in his arms. The patients are now downstairs receiving medical attention from Dr. Cook. Jerry’s plans with the doctor will have to wait a little while, but damned if I was going to be the one to tell him.
Jon’s shoulders ease from hearing the shooter wasn’t Jerry, but tension still pinches his face and rolls off him in waves. A wail of despair comes from the direction of the basement.
“Has Kotsana been properly confined?” Romeo asks.
“He’s been drugged and placed in a vampire safe room down below. Should hold him.”
Elsa’s delicate features and short pixie haircut look out of place on the sad alpha. “Jon, does anyone hate you enough to be doing this?”
Jon sits up a bit and looks to his former leader. “What makes you so sure it’s because of me? The lot of you could have led an enemy here from Manitoba.”
Romeo shakes his head. “It’s too thought out, boy. Can’t you see that? Scouting and setting traps takes more than a few hours. Whoever is doing this was here first.”
I pull up a chair and sip bloodcoffee in a travel mug, not willing to let myself lose control of my cravings with this many injured bodies occupying the inn. “So, you’re both suggesting this hunter, or hunters, was here before your plane arrived yesterday, right?” They both nod. “Who knew of your plans to come up here?”
The couple’s faces cloud over. “Pretty much everyone in our entire pack,” Elsa answers. Jon swears under his breath.
I set my mug down on the table. “And exactly how big is your pack?”
Romeo says, “Fifty. But they are spread out over the province. And no, they don’t all get along.”
“Are some married outside of the pack? Like to non-Weres?” Jon asks.
“Yes, one or two are even mated to vampires.”
I wonder if those vampires get addicted to their mates’ potent werewolf blood. But then again, Vivian never has with Jon’s, so maybe it’s not an immediate addiction with every pairing. “You can rule out the vampires, too much sunlight up here with no place to hide. It’s not like there’s a hotel near by.”
Jon stares off with a speculative expression. “We do have all those empty cabins.”
Romeo dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “We’d have smelled any vampires near the cabins.”
Jon runs a hand over his face, for a moment looking much older than his normal mid-twenties appearance. “Essentially all of your pack’s human mates could know as well?”
A little sound of distress comes from Elsa. “And not all of them have relatives who like werewolves.”
Jon stands up and crosses to the fridge for a bottled water. “Weren’t the mates sworn to silence?” He whirls back, anger evident on his face. “How could you let this many people be aware we exist?”
Romeo stands, his own frustration spilling out when he stands nose to nose with Jon. “Lots of people know about our species. We’ve been living amon
gst humans for millennia. You can’t blame my wolves—”
“Calm down, you two. And sit!” Elsa barks out. The two men jump at her sharp tone and take a step away from one another. Romeo leans against a counter, deliberately not sitting, and Jon stands near the fridge. If it weren’t so dangerous having two alphas ready to throw down in a cramped kitchen, I’d have laughed at how they both refused to obey the request. But the truth is, we need them working together right now.
“Do you think lots of people know about werewolves, vampires, magic, and all this supernatural crap?” I ask, completely unaware of what the answer might be.
Romeo answers, while Jon stares out the window. “There are always a few who have known.” He shrugs. “How many exactly? I’m not sure. Thankfully, they sound crazy if they tell anyone, so we’ve gone undiscovered for the most part.”
I take a sip from my travel mug and place it on the table. “Isn’t it also possible then that someone who knows of our existence might not accept us?”
“You mean those who’ve tried to eradicate us in the past?” Elsa asks. “Like supernatural hunters?”
I nod. “Makes sense. Hell, if I found out there was a pack of werewolves vacationing in the woods of my old home town I’d probably have been out there with a rifle.”
“He’s right.” Jon says, letting out a deep sigh. “Ignorance breeds hatred and fear of the unknown. Not acceptance and tolerance.”
The phone attached to the kitchen wall rings, and I scramble to answer it, wondering why whoever it is didn’t call one of our cells. “Yeah?”
One of the airplane mechanic’s frantic voices comes over the line. “All of the planes have been vandalized.”
“Calm down. Tell me what happened.” The wolves with their sharp hearing sit up and listen to both sides of the conversation.
“Someone who knows planes systematically removed the starters and shredded all the electrical wiring to the panels.”
My mind whirs, searching for possible ways we could still escape. “How long will it take to fix?”
Big Game (The V V Inn, Book 3) Page 11