The Hunt

Rafe



My wife whips around, guilt and anxiety playing across her face.



"You mind telling me what the hell is going on?" I ask, while trying my damnedest to rein in the urge to rip Jon's head off; like Dria did to the headless Vikram I just passed in the gym.



"I..." She hangs her head a bit; appearing to be searching for the right words to tell me she almost succumbed to the urge to kiss her servant. She can't shut me out of her thoughts as easily as she thinks. "I'm sorry."



She rushes forward and throws her arms around me. Dria nestles her head near my neck and takes a deep breath, coating her nostrils with my scent. "I have no excuse for what I almost did."



I can smell the sickly-sweet power of Jon's pheromones in the cramped space. Whether he pushed them out on purpose to seduce Dria or not remains to be seen, but being tied closely with him makes it especially hard for either one of us to resist the Were. Running my hands up and down her back, I debate on our course of action. Do I want to share my wife with Jon?



The black pit of hate coiling in my head is not my finest attribute, that's for sure. But I can't say for certain where I stand on the topic while the scent of sex pheromones and blood swirls heavily through the air. Being Dria's bonded mate has me craving her blood, and when so much of it courses through Jon, it's a fine line for my conflicted emotions.



A heavy sigh escapes me as I tighten my arms in a fierce hug. "Jon and I have an LLH relationship at best."



"LLH?"



"Like, Love, Hate. Some days I like him, a few rare occasions I think I love him and might be open to the idea of a threesome-usually those are the days he's really working us both hard with his sexy vibe-and then the rest of the time I barely tolerate him and it skitters close to hate."



Dria reaches up on her toes to plant a soft kiss right below my ear. "I know exactly what you mean. And I'm sorry there are ever bad times."



I lean away, breaking our embrace and look my wife in the eye. "The past seven years have had difficult moments, yes, but I wouldn't change it." I look over at the unclothed frame of my rival and friend. "Damn, he's a mess. Let's get him in the shower and hose the bugger down."



With the two of us working together, we make quick work of gently cleansing the blood from the werewolf's battered body. He must have been close to death when Dria dove through the window. A slight tingle of fear skitters through my mind. I hate to admit, even to myself, but I might miss the damn furball if something were to happen to him.



"He needs a mate, love," I say, as I help to shove one pink-skinned arm into a terrycloth robe. "And quick."



"Yes," my wife replies as she brushes wet hair back from his forehead. "But who? I couldn't bear to have that self-centered, immature woman from Romeo's pack here. And it looked like Jon didn't want her anyway."



"How can he want anyone else with you so near?"



"What do you mean?"



"Darling," I try to think of a tactful way to say she's an intimidating being. "You are gorgeous and strong. Without meaning to, you eclipse any other candidate who comes near him." She preens a bit at my compliment, but can also see beyond my words.



"You're trying nicely to say I scare his opportunities away, aren't you?"



"Well... to be fair, he hasn't had a lot of suitable mates present themselves up here in the Arctic." Dria closes the sash on his robe, easily able to resist the lure of his toned flesh when I'm standing by her side and Jon is not pushing out sex from every pore. "And then when he comes with us to the island off Argentina in the summer..."



"That's it!" she says.



"What?"



"Why not have him stay here this time? We could open the inn up for the summer months to Weres of all breeds and leave Jon in charge. Maybe he'll find a suitable candidate then."



I bend to scoop Jon up over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. "And what about the rest of the seethe? Would they stay here and live in the basement for months or tag along with us to Argentina?"



Dria shrugs, for once appearing to no longer worry about the future. "They can decide what they want to do and go where they want."



Judging by her lack of reaction, I'm guessing I've successfully masked my surprise over her response. My control freak of a wife has come a long way in two months. Granting her new members freedom from her watchful eye is a huge step in the right direction.



"Oh, except maybe for Paul. I don't think his control will be ready by then. But we can wait and see." We head out into the frigid gym and step through the remains of the room carefully. "And then of course, there's Asa's recent killing to consider..."



Ahh... and there it is. I knew she couldn't hold back with worrying about the others for long. I clear my throat, "Um... liebling?"



"Yes?"



"How about calling up someone from maintenance to bring plywood for the broken window?" Drifts of snow have blown in and the room looks surreal. Loose white powder swirls in the corners and partially covers the equipment. "Where's the body?"



"I called Drew before, he's on it. Must have removed it while we were in the shower. Smart to do it before the crew arrives to fix the window." She grabs the phone at her waist and starts to dial. "But we need someone to finish the task by cutting out Vikram's heart and burning it."



By the time we cut through the hot tub grotto, and enter the backdoor into our private kitchen, the deed has been done. Drew heads up from the basement with a bloody bag in one hand and jolts when he sees me carrying Jon.



"Christ! Is he going to be okay?"



"It was close," Dria says. "We're going to keep him here on our sofa in the living room 'til he's better."



"There are plenty of beds down below..." Drew trails off when he catches the sharp eye of my wife. "Or not. I'll be leaving now." A burst of cold air hits my back as the vampire heads into the darkness with Vikram's heart.



We traipse into the living room and Dria pulls the seat cushions off the main sofa section and draws out the hide-a-bed. The mattress doesn't quite lay flat, but curls up a little at the top and bottom edges. She grabs a throw from over the back and spreads the soft blanket across the mattress. My withering glance over the annoyance he's going to be recuperating right next to my spot, the chaise section of the couch, is lost on my loving partner in her haste to make up a bed for the furry fucker.



I resist the urge to toss the bastard onto the bed and settle the injured werewolf gently on the blanket. "Two days, max. Agreed?"



Dria looks up at my pinched expression and nods. "Thanks, honey. I'm sure he'll be strong enough to leave before then."



Before I can respond, a scratching at the door has me turning to investigate. That furry fucker will be out in two days or I'll be dragging his ass back to his cabin and paying Dr. Cook all the overtime she wants to play nursemaid to the son of a bitch. A quick glance out the window in the door reveals a soft gray coat and two dark eyes. Whining joins the next scrape as I close my hand over the knob.



"One of Jon's dogs must have smelled his blood on the wind," I call to Dria. "You okay if I let his visitor in? Might help him stay warm."



She shudders, but nods. The large wolf dog comes in cautiously when I open the door. It holds its head down, ears pinned back, tail loose, and doesn't make eye contact. The canine walks slowly to where Jon is on the sofa bed and nudges his hand with its nose.



"I think he named this one Amy," Dria says. "Go on, girl," she motions with her hand to encourage her, "You can jump up next to him." A dramatic sigh issues from my wife when the dog shakes all over; scattering chunks of snow, and then compling with her command. "There's going to be fur everywhere, dammit."



Amy snuggles up next to Jon, resting her head on his chest, and closes her eyes.



"Weres heal better with their pack-mates around them, don't they?" I ask.



"Yes. That's why I wanted him up here with us. Besides his dogs, we're all the pack he has."



"As long as I'm not expected to curl up and put my head on his chest, then I'm okay with him here. For a little while." I head back to the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. Waking up to the images swirling around in my wife's head certainly jolted me to full consciousness, but I prefer caffeine over adrenaline any day of the week.



The rich aroma of brewing coffee fills the suite. Dria wanders in once the two on the couch seem sound asleep and sits at the table. She runs a tired hand across her pale features, pausing a moment over her eyes to squeeze her temples.



"When did you last have a restorative sleep?" I ask.



"Hmm?"



"Down time, Dria? You may think you can stay up round-the-clock in the darkness, but you know you need to give your body a break every now and then, too."



She looks up, but appears unclear on a response. "Umm... Maybe three weeks? I have meditated each day. We've been plotting and planning this crazy adventure for a while now and there were a lot of last minute details I needed to tend to."



"And you didn't think it would be beneficial to rest before the big day? You think sitting and collecting yourself is the same as allowing your body to shut down and rest?" I shake my head, annoyed she's pushed herself and put us all at risk. "Is that why you missed Jon's need for help until it was almost too late?"



She shoots up from the table and starts to pace. "No, that was my fault, but for a different reason. I tried my best to shut him out to keep the bond between you and me pure."



"You can't protect us all. Not all the time."



Dria's head whips around and she narrows her gaze. "Yes, I can! What is the point to having all this power if I can't protect those I love?"



I take my wife in my arms, forcing an embrace on her when she tries to shrug me off. Running my hands down her hair I whisper, "Shh... it's okay, love. One person isn't meant to protect so many. You need to trust that we can protect ourselves and will call you when we need you." I lean back to cradle a porcelain cheek in one calloused hand. "You need to find a balance between controlling the voices and managing the mind-links. Or you won't be there when we call."



Tension spills out of her tiny form and a sigh escapes. "Why is it so hard? This is why I didn't want a seethe in the first place. All these lives counting on me. If I had handled things with Joanna better, she might not have gone off the deep end like she did."



I reach down and give her a gentle smack on the ass. "Enough of that kind of talk. You can't predict an alternate future, so there is no need to dwell on it. You said occupying another vamp's mind for a long time can have unforeseeable consequences. Chalk this up to one of them."



She breaks from my hold, returning to her seat, and stares into the living room. The coffee is half-brewed, so I grab a mug and pour myself some from the pot. "Want some?" I ask. Dria shakes her head and watches the sleeping pair. "He'll be fine, don't fret."



I sit across from her, blocking her view of the injured Were and his dog sleeping on the couch. "Care to fill me in on what I missed between when I took a nap and you ripped off one of the guest's head?" I smile to soften my teasing, hoping she won't take it the wrong way and start shrieking. With Dria, one never knows.



"Ummm... let's see. Asa tracked Emiko into the woods and came across her fighting with Donald. Donald yielded and she let him live. Drew told me what happened and said Mr. Swanson has retired to his room for the rest of the day."



"Anything else?"



"I checked in on Lori in one of the wolves' cabins. She seems to be healing well. She confirmed it was the same vampire scent from Melvyn's cabin... but I guess that's a moot point now that Vikram is dead...."



"What do you think happened with him? Do you think he came here with an addiction or if it manifested while here?"



"I don't know for sure. I plan to ask Sanji when she comes in and we break the news to her. There aren't a lot of Weres in India." Dria reaches for my mug, takes a small sip and returns it. "Depending on who she keeps in her seethe, it could very well have been his first exposure to them and he couldn't resist."



"Does it happen often like that? One taste and a vampire can lose control?"



She looks pensive for a moment, "I wouldn't say 'often'. But I have seen it happen in the past. Addiction can hit different people at different times, even undead ones. Maybe his weaker character, which allowed Sanji to treat him like a bonded mate and use him to calm her sociopathic desires, also opened him up to chemical dependency? Or maybe he had the traits in him from when he was a human?" My wife slumps back in her chair, in an atypical lazy pose.



I reach across the dinged wood surface and take one of her hands in mine, "Why don't you get some rest, and I mean real rest, before we meet with the seethe?"



"Good God, what time is that supposed to be?"



"Don't you worry. How about you go lie down and I'll reschedule it for three hours from now. Should give you a chance to take a catnap at least."



"Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"



"You mean your shower incident with Jon?" I squeeze her hand in reassurance. "I know you wouldn't have done anything willingly. If something happens because of the pheromones playing havoc in your body when you think someone close to you is about to die, don't fret. I know you and I are solid and a kiss or a stolen caress won't destroy what we have."



"Good to know. And I knew as much already," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But I meant with you and Jon."



"Uh?"



"You slipped into his mind and put him to sleep. How long have you been able to control the Were?"



"Oh. That." I look away, not meeting her penetrating gaze. "I'm not sure I really can slip into his mind at will. I've been practicing with the employees in small things for months, but have never been able to get through his thicker shielding when I attempted it. Maybe it was because he was so weak from injuries and close to death?"



"Or maybe you didn't really try hard enough until then." Dria's look becomes contemplative. "What kind of things have you willed the employees to do?"



"I've been careful, I swear. Once or twice I encouraged an off-duty employee to stop partying in the bar after consuming more alcohol than they could handle..." At her encouraging look I continue, "I've also compelled two to get me a drink when I hadn't asked for it. I figured their inhibitions were lowered by the alcohol and I could try with less risk."



"Don't ever forget the risk, Rafe. You could mess up their heads if you go beyond their surface thoughts."



"I know, and you're right." I shift in my chair, a bit uncomfortable to have been called on the carpet with my experimenting. "I have to learn somehow, correct?"



"Yes, but it might be best if your first attempts were supervised. Just in case."



I bristle at the insinuation that I would callously fuck up someone's life by playing around in their head. "I'm not Asa, nor am I Paul."



"I never said you were, but I drove two people insane when I was 'learning' and I'd hate for you to bear the same guilt. Not to mention," she leans forward and kisses me lightly on the lips, "how pissed off I'd be if you hurt one of our employees."



"Uh-uh," I say while grabbing the back of her head, intent on deepening the kiss. "You say 'our' but I think you mean 'your'."



"Everything I have," she whispers when I come up for air, "is yours."



"Then how about you listen to my advice and try to get some rest?"



She flounces back in her chair like a petulant child. "Oh, all right. You're not going to let up until I do, are you?"



"Nope." I stand and gesture to our houseguest, "Why don't you lie down on the chaise lounge next to the pull-out and hold his hand?"



Shock crosses her face, "Really? Why?"



"Didn't you say he'd heal faster with his pack around him and touching?" At her nod I continue, "Like it our not, until he gets more real werewolves by his side the two of us and his wolf dogs are all the bastard has."



"Okay, I'll give it a shot."



"Good, because I have no intention of curling up with him even if he needs it to heal."



Dria kicks off her boots and unclips her phone. As she goes to lay it on the table it chirps with an incoming call. I snatch the phone before she has a chance to answer it.



"Go. Get some sleep. No matter what it is I can handle it."



She gives me one last, lingering kiss. "Yes, I know you can."



Dria heads over and spreads out on the chaise. Jon has one arm flung to the side in his sleep. She grasps his hand loosely while settling, crosses her legs at the knee and closes her eyes.



I flick open the phone and head into the office to take the call.



"Rafe here."



"Rafe?" Comes Asa's shocked voice. "Don't tell me something happened to Vivian? Or did I dial the wrong phone?"



"No and no. She's resting. What do you need?"



"I'm standing over the body of another hunter. And it ain't pretty."