Desire the Night (5 page)

She blinked at him. “Gideon?”

Cursing under his breath, he bit into his wrist, then held the wound to her lips. “Drink this.”

She wanted to refuse, but she was so thirsty. And there was nothing else. She forced down a swallow, gagged, and turned her head to the side.

“Look at me, Kiya.” He captured her gaze with his own. “What’s your favorite drink?”

“Hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon and lots of whipped cream on top.”

“Okay, that’s what this is, and it’s the best you’ve ever had, hot and sweet. Drink now. You need it.”

When he held his wrist to her lips again, she drank willingly. When he took his arm away, she asked for more.

“That’s all for now,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “Go back to sleep.”

Her eyelids fluttered down, and she slept.

“Damn.” Gideon stroked her hair, bemused by his feelings for this woman. In the three years he had been here, he had never offered his blood to any of his prey. It had grieved him to take their lives, but it was theirs or his, and his sense of self-preservation would not be ignored or denied.

But this woman … Kiya. She was different, and it wasn’t just because she was a werewolf.

The witch’s appearance at the cell door put a stop to his musings.

Verah lifted one brow when she saw the girl cradled in his arms. “Like this one, do you?” she asked with a leer.

He shrugged. “Her blood pleases me.”

“And yet she still lives.”

“I decided to savor it while I could. It was a long time between meals last time.”

The witch looked thoughtful. “I suppose I could prolong her life, since she pleases you.”

It took all his self-control to keep his surprise from showing on his face. In all the weeks and months he had been here, she had never done him a kindness.

He grimaced as she reached into the voluminous pocket of her robe and withdrew her silver-bladed dagger and jewel-encrusted goblet.

She looked at him, one brow raised, until he shifted Kay to one side and shoved his right arm through the bars. He clenched his jaw as she made a long shallow gash in his forearm, felt his anger grow as his blood flowed into the goblet, although he didn’t miss the irony of a mortal taking vampire blood.

When the goblet was full, Verah wiped the blade on a scrap of cloth, then dropped the dagger into her pocket. “I’ll send someone with food and water for the girl.”

Looking perplexed, she stared at him a moment.

Gideon stared back. If she was waiting for a thank-you, it would be a hell of a long time coming.

Kay woke feeling strange and with a bad taste in her mouth. But all that was forgotten when she opened her eyes and found herself nestled in Gideon’s arms.

She glanced around, as if uncertain of her surroundings. “What happened?”

“You were hungry. I gave you something to drink.”

“Something? Like … ?” Revulsion flashed in her eyes. She had tasted his blood, but only one taste, but she no longer felt weak or dizzy. Comprehension dawned with a jolt and she shook her head in denial. “You compelled me, didn’t you?”

“You needed nourishment, and it’s all I’ve got.”

“But … you drank from me! And now you’ve given me your blood… .” She bounded out of his arms and fled to the far side of the cell. “Am I going to become a vampire now? Is that even possible? I’m a werewolf !”

“Calm down, Kiya. You’re no different than you were before.”

“How can that be?”

“I’d have to drain you to the point of death and then give you my blood to turn you. And like you said, you’re a werewolf. It probably wouldn’t work anyway.”

Slightly mollified, she slid down on the floor across from him, her back propped against the bars. He had given her his blood. No wonder she had a bad taste in her mouth.

At least she wasn’t hungry anymore.

Was he? How often did he have to feed?

“Normally, once a week or so,” he said, replying to her unspoken question.

She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Do you read all my thoughts?”

He shrugged. “Not all. Who’s Mark?” He held up his hand. “I didn’t read your mind. You said his name when you were sort of out of it.”

“He was my brother.”

“Was?”

“He’s dead, killed by a bounty hunter.”

“I’m sorry.”

Blinking back her tears, Kay buried her face in her hands. Mark had been two years her senior and she had adored him. They had been playing in the woods one night when the moon was full. Mark had been bragging that he would be able to run with the pack the following month.

“No, you won’t,” she said. “You have to be thirteen to shift, and you’re only twelve.”

“Wanna bet?” he crowed. “Watch this!”

The words had barely been spoken when he changed from human to wolf and back to human again.

“That’s fantastic,” she cried, clapping her hands. “Do it again!”

She had watched, happy for him, as he changed back and forth to amuse her. He would be Alpha someday; only Alphas could change at will. He was still in his wolf form when three men burst into the clearing.

Before Mark could shift back to human, before Kay could beg them to go away, one of the men killed her brother.

Her scream of denial alerted her father and several members of the pack, who came running.

The three hunters didn’t have a chance. She had watched in horror as they were caught and killed. And eaten, leaving no trace.

A rattle of chains told her Gideon was moving toward her. She looked up, startled to find him so close. She thought he was going to feed on her and for a moment, she hoped he would drain her dry and put her out of her misery. She was surprised when he slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “It’s hard to lose those you love.”

“You’ve probably lost a lot of people,” she said, sniffing.

“Yeah, but only a few I really cared about. So, you’re not married, or anything?”

“No.” She blew out a sigh. “That’s not entirely true. I’m engaged to be engaged.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“My father has chosen a mate for me. He’s going to announce our betrothal when I go back home.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“Victor Rinaldi is the most conceited, arrogant male I’ve ever known.”

“So, why are you marrying him?”

“Three reasons. My father loves Victor like the son he lost. Victor’s father and mine have been friends for over fifty years. And Victor’s father is Alpha of the Green Mountain Pack. Their territory borders ours, and my marriage to Victor will make both packs stronger and more secure.”

“Don’t you have any say in the matter?”

“No.” She looked up at him. “Do vampires get married?”

“Some do.”

“But not you?”

“Nope. Never found a woman I wanted to spend more than a few days with.”

“Do you really think we’ll get out of here?”

He looked at her, his gaze sliding along the length of her neck, lingering on the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat. “For your sake, I sure as hell hope so.”

Chapter 7

Dorothy Alissano fidgeted with her apron while listening to one side of the phone conversation her husband was having with Kiya’s employer. It was bad news: She knew it. David Saltzman had never called them before.

“What is it?” she asked when Russell ended the call. “What’s wrong?”

“Kiya is missing.”

“Missing?” Dorothy felt the blood drain from her face as she dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. “What do you mean, missing?”

“She didn’t report to work on Monday, and Saltzman hasn’t heard from her since. Her friend, Wanda, said the last time she saw Kiya was at some nightclub. She thinks Kiya went home with a man she met there.”

Dorothy shook her head. “Kiya wouldn’t do that. She would never go off with a stranger.”

“Maybe you don’t know our daughter as well as well as you think you do.”

“I know her a hell of a lot better than you do!” Dorothy folded her arms over her chest, worry for her daughter unleashing words she had never dared speak aloud. “You’ve never loved her. Never forgiven me for being unable to give you a son to take Mark’s place.”

Complications from Kiya’s birth had made it impossible for Dorothy to have another child.

Russell’s eyes narrowed ominously. “Watch your tongue,
mitawicu
.”

Dorothy bit down on her lower lip, a sudden stab of fear making her tremble. In all their married life, she had never dared talk back to him. Her husband was not only an alpha male, he was an Alpha werewolf, accustomed to being obeyed without question.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You wish Victor was your son. You love him more than you love your own daughter.”

He didn’t deny it. “I’m going to make some phone calls, see if anyone has heard anything about Kiya.”

Dorothy held her tears in check until he left the room, then she buried her face in her hands and let the tears flow. Not being able to give Russell another son had created a gulf between them that could not be crossed. For Dorothy, it was a pain that had never healed. And yet, in spite of the bitterness between them, she loved him still.

Wiping her eyes on her apron, she let her thoughts drift back in time, remembering how it had been in the beginning… .

She had been walking home from a girlfriend’s house one evening when a large dog attacked her. She had fallen to the ground and curled into a ball, her arms folded over her head, screaming bloody murder, but no one had come to her aid and then, seemingly from out of thin air, a man had appeared. He spoke to the hound in a language Dorothy didn’t understand and the dog had whimpered and run off with its tail between its legs.

“Are you all right?” the man asked.

She had been too scared to speak, too frightened by the blood running down her arms and leg to think coherently.

He had looked undecided for a moment, then swept her into his arms and carried her to the hospital located several blocks away. In the emergency room, she had begged him not to leave her alone, so he had lied to the nurse, saying he was her husband. He had stayed at her side, holding her hand, while they bandaged her arms and stitched the nasty bite in her leg. When they left the hospital, Russell had called for a cab and taken her home.

Dorothy had been afraid she would never see him again, but when the cab pulled to a stop in front of her house, he had surprised her by asking if he could call on her the next night.

They dated for several months and she fell head over heels in love with him. He was tall and dark and in some ways, a total mystery to her. She was fascinated by his Indian heritage, by his bearing, which was almost regal. To her, he seemed like Rhett Butler and Superman all rolled into one.

Things seemed perfect, until she found out she was pregnant. She had been afraid to tell her parents, afraid to tell Russell, but it was a secret she couldn’t hide forever. He wasn’t happy about the pregnancy. Neither was his family—a family she had never met. She had thought it strange that he never took her home to meet his parents—until he did.

Her first thought upon viewing the compound where he lived was that it looked like a prison; later, it became one, at least for her. She learned a lot about Russell that night, including the fact that he was a full-blooded Lakota Indian and that Russell Alissano wasn’t his real name. He had been born Nagin Luta, which meant Red Shadow. The Lakota believed names had power and his tribal name was used only by loved ones and members of the immediate family.

His parents had not made her feel welcome. Russell’s father, Sake Sapa, who went by the name Charles Alissano, insisted she have an abortion immediately. Dorothy had been too afraid of the man to tell him no to his face, but later, when she was alone with Russell, she told him she didn’t want an abortion and that nothing he could say would change her mind.

He didn’t say anything for several, nerve-racking moments.

Fighting back tears, she had waited for him to say he never wanted to see her again. But, once again, he surprised her. Instead of leaving, he had proposed to her. They eloped the next night.

Her parents weren’t pleased.

Russell’s father never forgave him for marrying a white woman.

Dorothy sighed. She had loved her son, she loved her daughter, but sometimes she couldn’t help thinking they would have all been better off if Russell had never come to her aid that fateful night.

Chapter 8

Kay stood in a corner of the cell, her hands fisted around the bars, staring blankly at the far wall.

Earlier, a man had brought her a covered tray and slid it under the narrow gap between the bottom of the cell door and the floor. When she’d uncovered the tray, she found a roast beef sandwich, a can of root beer, and a bottle of water. She had devoured the sandwich in four bites, drained the can in a few quick swallows, and wished for more.

She had sipped the water throughout the day.