Desire the Night

Tomorrow, she would decide how best to recapture the wolf girl, but for tonight, she was content to be safely ensconced in her own home, rested, clean, and well fed, with Rama to keep her company, and thoughts of vengeance to keep her warm.



* * *



Chapter 32



It was near midnight a week later when Gideon left Kusuma Ila’s untidy but cozy home, a small brown bottle tucked into his pants pocket. He made a brief stop at his lair in Phoenix where he took a long hot shower, then slipped into a comfortable pair of old jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and a pair of supple, knee-high leather boots.



He considered contacting Kay, but decided against it, knowing she would worry if he told her what he was about to do. If things worked out as planned, he would get in touch with her in a few days and together they would figure out how to get her away from Victor and her father. If this didn’t work, well, it might be a good long while before he was able to contact her. Hell, if it didn’t work, there was a chance Verah would kill him. But one thing he knew for certain: If he survived, Kay would be waiting for him when it was over, no matter how long it took.



Leaving his lair, he went in search of prey. He needed to feed, and feed well. Knowing Verah, it might be a long time between meals.



It was an hour past midnight when he transported himself to Verah’s home in New Mexico. Standing on the doorstep, he took a deep breath, then rang the bell.



Moments later, the witch answered the door. Her startled expression when she recognized him was priceless.



Fear and surprise chased themselves across her face. Fear won out. “You can’t come in!” she exclaimed. Taking a step backward, she called for her familiar. The cat came running and made a flying leap into her arms.



“I’ve come to surrender,” Gideon said. “But first I’ll have your word that you’ll leave Kiya alone.”



Verah stared at him, stunned into silence.



“Do we have a deal?”



When she found her voice, Verah said, “I don’t believe you.” She shook her head. “Why would you come here willingly?”



“Kiya is married to someone else. I want her to be happy.”



Verah snorted. “You love the wolf that much?”



“I love the girl that much. I don’t want her to keep looking over her shoulder, waiting for you to strike. So get your silver chains. I won’t fight you. Just promise me you’ll leave Kiya alone, and I’m yours for as long as you need me.”



Eyes narrowed, the witch regarded him for several long moments; then, muttering to the cat, she pivoted on her heel and walked away.



Gideon waited, wondering if she intended to return.



He heard the rattle of chains first, then Verah approached the door. “Undress.”



“What?”



“You heard me. Take off your boots and shirt.”



Grimacing, he did as instructed. He had worn the heavy, long-sleeved shirt and boots so he’d have a layer of protection between his skin and the silver. He should have known Verah wouldn’t allow such a thing.



And still the witch stood there, her eyes filled with suspicion.



She regarded Gideon for another few moments before tossing the shackles, and then a large silver key, onto the porch. “Put those on and I’ll believe you.”



She meant business this time. The heavy silver links blistered his skin as he locked the shackles in place around his neck, his ankles and wrists, then tossed her the key.



And still she hesitated.



He hissed as the silver burned deeper, scorching his flesh.



And then she smiled. “Come in.”



Jaw clenched, Gideon crossed the threshold and followed the witch down to the basement. He hesitated at the cell door as vivid images of the years he had spent in that cramped cage flashed through his mind.



Ever the thoughtful hostess, the witch gave him a shove and he stumbled through the doorway.



The sound of the key turning in the lock echoed like the crack of doom in his ears.



Alone in her room, Kay stood at the window, gazing into the distance. As always, her thoughts were for Gideon. Where was he? Had he returned to his lair in New York? Or maybe the one in Gatlinburg? Wherever he was, she hoped he was safe.



A movement in the yard below caught her eye and she couldn’t stifle a brief flare of hope that Gideon had come for her. But, of course, that was impossible. It was only Joe Yellow Bear, standing guard below her window to make sure she didn’t try to escape. Her father claimed the guards were posted to keep her safe from the witch, but she knew better. They had been instructed to keep her in the house, and Gideon out.



But she hadn’t given up hope. Sooner or later, one of the guards would make a mistake. They would fall asleep or get distracted and when that happened, she would be gone.



Knowing it was useless, she tried to open the link between herself and Gideon. She had tried and failed every night for the last week and a half. Tonight would probably be no different, but she couldn’t give up.



As usual, her efforts were in vain. There was nothing there, just an aching emptiness. Maybe if she concentrated harder? Closing her eyes, she pictured him in her mind—tall and dark and dangerous, with inky black hair and enigmatic gray eyes. A man more handsome than any other she had ever known. Gideon. She recalled what it was like to be in his embrace—the strength of his arms around her, his mouth covering her own, his body arousing her until the rest of the world faded away and there was just the two of them.



She moaned softly, wishing he was with her now. Heat suffused her skin as she imagined him holding her, touching her. Imagined touching him in return, her hands exploring the hard length of his body, her fingers tangling in his hair while their tongues mated… .



Damn, woman, what are you trying to do to me!



Her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, so real, so close, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to find him there.



Gideon?



I’m here.



Relief poured out of her in a long, shuddering sigh. I’ve been so worried about you.



I’m fine, Kiya. Stop worrying. How are you?



I’m good. I’m at home.



Home? With your pack?



Yes. My father brought me here. Verah escaped from Victor’s place.



Yeah, I heard that.



Where are you?



Where I need to be.



You need to be here, with me.



The sound of his laughter filled her mind and warmed her heart. I’ll be there soon. In the meantime, take care of yourself.



Don’t go!



I’ll be in touch. I love you, Wolfie. Stay safe.



You, too.



Before she could say anything else, he was gone.



Kay frowned. What had Gideon meant when he’d said he was where he needed to be?



Gideon rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Whatever happened, however this turned out, he wouldn’t regret it as long as it ensured Kay’s well-being. In 360 years, he had never loved a woman the way he loved her. Nothing had even come close. He had seduced women, made love to them, even courted a few, but it had always been a game, a way to pass the time, to satisfy a lust even more primal than the hunger that plagued him. But Kay was different. He had known it the moment he woke and saw her huddling in a corner of the cage. She had been afraid, he had smelled the fear on her, yet she’d never let it show. She had even made a joke about vampires and how he was just “doing what comes naturally,” when he preyed upon those Verah had brought him.



He sat up straighter when he heard the witch’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Moments later, she was standing outside his cell, a familiar goblet in one hand, her favorite dagger in the other.



“So soon?” he asked. “You’re still looking good.”



“How nice of you to say so,” she said dryly. “But I can feel it wearing off, and I’d prefer to have some on hand as soon as I need it. Besides, orders were piling up while I was away.” She moved to the left side of the cage and knelt down. “Hold out your arm.”



Chains rattling, he did as bidden, then watched impassively as she jabbed the silver-bladed dagger into the large vein in his wrist. Blood flowed freely from the wound, quickly filling the jewel-encrusted cup.



When she withdrew the blade, the wound closed. “There,” she said, “that should last a while.”



Gideon met her satisfied gaze. The silver and the bloodletting weakened him physically, but he still had enough power to compel mortals. And, witch or not, Verah was mortal. It took only moments to implant a suggestion in her mind, and then he looked away.



Brow furrowed, the witch stared into the cup. She dipped her finger into the dark red fluid, then licked it off. “You know,” she said, “the next time I need to drink your blood, I think I’ll take it right from the source.”



Gideon slid his arm between the bars, palm up. “Why wait? If you drink it while it’s warm and fresh, it’ll taste better and the effects will last longer.”



She tilted her head to one side, as if considering his words, then reached for his arm. As if moving in slow motion, she dragged the dagger across his wrist. She leaned forward, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders, trailing in his blood as she ran her tongue over the shallow gash in his flesh.



Gideon held his breath as she drank deeply. Her hands gripped his forearm, her nails gouged furrows into his skin.



Abruptly, she lifted her head and pushed his arm away. When she tried to stand, he grasped the hem of her skirt.



“Let me go!” She clutched her stomach, a low moan rising in her throat. “What have you done?”



He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small brown bottle. “I drank a little poison when the sun went down.”



She stared at him, her eyes wild. “What’s the antidote? Where is it? Give it to me!”



“There isn’t any.”



She sank to her knees, her breathing labored, her skin turning gray. “Help me… .”



Gideon shook his head, his eyes narrowing with revulsion as her years quickly caught up with her. Wrinkles spread across her face, the color faded from her hair, her hands turned skeletal, the skin liberally sprinkled with age spots.