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the couple ushers us into the home so we can get out of the wind. The foyer is much smaller than the one at the inn, but it makes up for its lack of size with homey warmth. Terra cotta tile covered with boldly designed rugs stretch off in all directions, spilling into the rooms on the ground floor.
    Pieces of art from around Central and South America decorate the walls, rustic wrought iron scones highlighting their beauty without being harsh. The kitchen and dining rooms lay to the right, leading away and bending around the corner to bracket the central courtyard, and the various living room areas lay to the left, also wrapping around the courtyard. The bedrooms lay above, on the second floor, with the hallway to all the bedrooms overlooking the green interior.
    The mouth-watering aroma of seafood and fresh bread drift from the kitchen wing to greet our weary group.
    “Oh, something smells good,” Paul says, earning an appreciative smile from Flavia.
    “You like to cook, sir?” the housekeeper asks, deftly guessing from his pale complexion, so like her employer’s—that he probably likes to cook more than eat.
    “Yes, and I can hardly wait to get in your kitchen. I’d love to learn the local dishes if you don’t mind sharing. My wife and kids always appreciate new cuisine.”
    Dalton’s face relaxes at the mention of Paul’s family, and Flavia’s smile grows even broader. “Come back to the kitchen with me.” She gestures for him to follow. “I’ll show you what I’ve made for tonight.” As they walk off, she peppers Paul with questions about his wife, the ages of his children, and where he learned to cook.
    Dalton approaches Dria and bows slightly at the waist. “Dinner at nine? Is that acceptable, ma’am?”
    My wife’s face softens as she looks to him fondly. “Call me Dria, please. You know I don’t stand on ceremony.”
    “As you wish, Dria.” He smiles to show he’s agreeable, but I can still tell he’d feel more comfortable calling her ma’am . It’s not only a generational sign of respect, but manners from his upbringing. We do this same dance every year when we arrive. “Is nine still good?”
    “Yes, thank you.” Before we left, we emailed the sleeping preferences. Tommy and Bob will share a suite next to Paul, and Chelly and Drew will be alone in their own room. “Dalton, would you mind showing our guests to their rooms? The luggage will be a while, but I’d like them to get a feel for the place.”
    “Certainly, ma’—Dria. Right this way, gentlemen,” indicating Tommy, Bob, and Paul should follow him. “Carmella, would you mind showing the couple to their room?”
    Carmella casts a lingering glance at Drew, raking his body from head to toe. Chelly sees the look and steps closer to Drew, slipping an arm around his and glaring back at the honey-skinned brunette.
    It figures. Carmella’s more interested in the man who has a woman than the available single ones drooling at her feet.
    Dalton clears his throat and Carmina, caught staring at Drew as well, scurries off toward the kitchen.
    I wonder what’s going on there? I say to Dria through a slight tingle of connection.
    She shrugs and motions for Drew and Chelly to follow us to the staircase, trailing after the men and Carmella. “Come, your room is just past theirs, she’ll show you the way.” Drew, oblivious to the entire female power exchange, smiles warmly and looks to us to follow.
    Looks to me like the ladies want to bag a vampire lover, Dria says . Should prove an interesting few weeks for Chelly, that’s for sure.
     
     
     

Chapter Four
    Asa
     
    The dull thud of my footsteps echo back off the smooth walls of the dimly lit, narrow tunnel. With the twist of a key and a hard shove from my shoulder, I open one of the heavy steel doors placed every hundred yards or so in this complex warren of underground passages.
    Vivian said it took ten years to build the subterranean basement and intricate tunnel system, but I