Desire the Night

by Amanda Ashley

  “I can make you think it’s hot chocolate with whipped cream on top.”

  “Is that how you made me drink it the last time?”

  He nodded.

  And still she hesitated.

  “You’ll need all your strength for tomorrow night,” Gideon reminded her.

  He was right, darn it. The way she felt now, she couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag, let alone break down a door made of iron bars.

  Gathering her courage, she scooted to Gideon’s side.

  Gideon took a deep breath as Kay’s nearness slammed into him. His fangs lengthened in response to her fear. The scent of her blood called to his hunger. It took all of his considerable willpower to keep from sinking his fangs into her soft flesh. Instead, he spoke to her mind, bending her will to his, implanting the suggestion that she was drinking a cup of her favorite hot chocolate as he bit into his wrist, then held it to her lips.

  When he released his hold on her mind, she looked up at him, her gaze slightly unfocused. And then she tilted her head to the side. “Turnabout is fair play.”

  “Not much point in giving you my blood if I take it back.”

  “You’ll need your strength, too.”

  He considered it a moment, then drew her into his arms and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her neck. Keeping a tight rein on his self-control, he said, “I only need a little.”

  Hands clenched, heart pounding with trepidation, Kay again tilted her head to the side, granting him access to her throat. What if he didn’t—couldn’t—stop? Well, she thought fatalistically, one way or another, she would soon be out of this place.

  “Relax,” he murmured.

  “Easier said than done,” she muttered, and closed her eyes as he bent his head to her neck.

  Later, when she lay asleep in his arms, Gideon stared into the darkness, his fingertips absently stroking her cheek as he imagined what it would be like to share a cell with a werewolf.

  In all his long life, he had never encountered one. He had heard of them, of course—who hadn’t? They were usually depicted as ravening monsters who couldn’t control themselves and killed indiscriminately when the moon was full. Occasionally, they were depicted as social creatures, loyal to their pack, able to change at will and live ordinary lives.

  Kay, it seemed, fell somewhere in between the two. She had no control over the change but she apparently lived an otherwise normal life save for those nights when the moon was full.

  And it would be full tomorrow night.

  Kay woke with a start. Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head. A glance to her right showed Gideon was asleep. So, the sun was still up. Although she had no idea how long it was before the moon’s rising, she could feel the anxiety growing within her as her body anticipated the change. Had she been home, she would have called her boss and told him she was taking a sick day—something he allowed his employees to do from time to time—then she would have packed a bag and driven up into the Black Hills.

  Closing her eyes, she visualized the Hills—an isolated mountain range that ran from South Dakota to Wyoming, a place of towering pines and craggy bluffs and clear, crystal streams and lakes. The Hills were a werewolf’s paradise, inhabited as they were by a wide variety of prey—buffalo, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, and white-tailed deer. An added plus were the miles of wide-open spaces where she could run to her heart’s content.

  Filled with nervous tension, she began to pace the floor. Pausing briefly, she picked up the bottle of water that had been left for her sometime during the day. After rinsing away the bad taste in her mouth, she drained the bottle, then resumed pacing, back and forth across the narrow space.

  Gideon hovered on the brink of awareness. Though only half awake, he felt the vibration of Kay’s footsteps as she restlessly paced the floor, smelled her growing apprehension as the sun slipped over the horizon. Only hours left until the moon took command of the sky.

  Between one thought and the next, he was wide-awake and alert. Jackknifing into a sitting position, he tilted his head back and sniffed the air.

  “Dammit!” He rose fluidly to his feet. “She’s coming.” He had known that was a possibility, but since the witch had recently taken his blood, he had hoped they could make their escape without her being the wiser.

  Without conscious thought, Kay moved to stand behind Gideon.

  Verah appeared moments later. Clad in a leopard-skin jumpsuit, her long pale blond hair pulled back in a tail, she looked like a wild animal on the prowl.

  She smiled a predatory smile as she waved her silver-bladed knife in one hand and the golden goblet in the other. “Guess what time it is?” she purred.

  “So soon?” Gideon’s jaw clenched tight. How often had she sliced into his flesh with that accursed knife? Each cut seared his skin like hellfire.

  “Word is spreading.” Greed glittered in the witch’s eyes. “I am now getting a thousand dollars for a single vial of your blood.”

  He glared at her. There was undoubtedly some spell she could cast that would make her wealthy. Unfortunately for him, wealth was not her motive for keeping him imprisoned. She enjoyed the sense of power it gave her to hold a vampire captive. She enjoyed inflicting pain. But it was vanity that played the most important role. Without his blood, she would quickly revert to her true appearance—an aged hag with stringy gray hair, sunken rheumy eyes, and skin as dry and wrinkled as old parchment.

  The witch tapped the blade against her cheek. “Hold out your arm,” she said impatiently.

  “Go to hell!”

  “Do not make me come in there,” Verah said, her eyes narrowing ominously.

  Gideon snorted. “What are you gonna do, witch? Drain me dry? Well, do your worst. I’m tired of being your fountain of youth.”

  The moon was rising. Even if he hadn’t been able to feel it on his own, he would have known it from the shudder that rippled through Kay, the sudden confusion in her thoughts.

  Verah unlocked the cell door with a wave of her hand.

  A low growl rose in Kay’s throat.

  Verah paused at the feral sound, her attention focusing for the first time on the woman partially hidden behind the vampire.

  There was a ripple of preternatural power, the sound of tearing cloth followed by a sharp cry somewhere between a groan and a howl.

  Verah’s eyes grew wide as the woman’s form shimmered and then, between one heartbeat and the next, the woman was gone and a long-legged wolf with coal-black hair and bright brown eyes stood in her place.

  With a hiss of disbelief, Verah jumped backward and slammed the cell door. She stared at the wolf for several disbelieving moments, then vanished from the basement.

  Gideon swore softly. There would be hell to pay now, but even as the thought crossed his mind, the wolf took one of the chains that bound him between its teeth and with a mighty tug, pulled the bolt out of the wall. She did the same with the other shackle, then launched herself at the cell door, striking it full force with her shoulder, once, twice, and the door flew off its hinges. There was an unearthly screech as the metal skidded across the concrete.

  The wolf looked up at him, tail wagging, then turned and trotted out of the cell toward the basement door.

  Gideon followed her up the stairs, the chains still fastened to his ankles rattling with every step.

  To his surprise, they didn’t encounter anyone when they emerged from the basement. The wolf made a sharp left when she crossed the threshold and then, without a moment’s hesitation, she jumped through the first open window she came to.

  With a shake of his head, Gideon followed her. Gunshots chased him over the sill. He winced as a bullet grazed his shoulder, cursed under his breath when the next shot hit the wolf. With a high-pitched whine, she tumbled end over end and lay still.

  Without slowing, Gideon scooped the wolf into his arms and ran on. If it hadn’t been for the silver that drained his power, he would have transported them to one of his lairs. As i
t was, all he could do was keep running.

  When he came to an abandoned building some miles later, he kicked in the door and ducked inside. Pausing, he scanned the dusky interior. From the looks of the place, it had once been a warehouse. Pulling an oil-stained drop cloth from a counter, he spread it on the floor, then lowered the wolf onto it. A quick search turned up a hacksaw; moments later, he was free of the shackles he had worn for the last three years.

  A door at the far end of the building opened into an office where he found a couple of shop towels. He wet the cloths in the adjoining bathroom, then returned to the wolf ’s side. Kneeling, he wiped the blood from her fur, his fingers probing the wound until he found the slug lodged in her back leg. Grateful that she was unconscious, he slid two fingers into the nasty hole and extracted the slug. He hissed when the misshapen chunk of silver burned his fingers. Had it found a vital organ, it would have killed her.

  Lifting Kiya the wolf into his arms, he willed the two of them to his lair on the outskirts of Phoenix. It was his least favorite place to stay, but his powers were weak, and it was the closest.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  Verah slapped the young man standing before her. The sound echoed through the living room. “You missed?” She slapped him again, harder. “I do not pay you to miss!”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

  “I do not want apologies!” Muttering an incantation, she placed her hand over the man’s mouth. “Be gone.”

  The man opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. Suddenly mute, he stared at her in horror.

  “Be gone!” she snarled, “lest I turn you into a toad.”

  Face pale, eyes wide with fright, he hurried from her presence.

  “Stupid fool!” Verah stormed from one end of the room to the other. Angry with her own stupidity for not realizing the woman had been two-natured, she had lashed out at the boy.

  Picking up a large crystal vase, she hurled it against the wall, then took a deep breath. The werewolf was of no consequence. But Gideon … she needed him and she intended to get him back, no matter the cost. Vampires were hard to find and harder still to manipulate.

  The fact that his blood added to her wealth was merely an additional bonus.

  That his blood kept her young and vibrant made him indispensable. She had several vials stored in a cool place, but the shelf life was remarkably short, a fact she found odd, given that vampires themselves were nearly immortal.

  She had to find him, and soon, before his blood grew rancid.

  Before her beauty began to fade.

  And if she couldn’t find him, what then?

  In a rage, she stormed down the stairs to her workroom, where she gathered up several books and placed them on her worktable. Settling on a high stool, she carefully opened the first grimoire. The parchment was old and yellow, disintegrating in some places.

  Rama jumped up on the table, his keen yellow eyes watching intently as Verah perused the pages.

  “There must be a spell or an incantation in one of these books that will work as well as his blood,” she muttered. “There has to be!”

  An hour later, she closed the ancient text, and reached for another. It had taken her mother a lifetime to collect these moldy old tomes. Surely one of them possessed the spell she needed.

  When none of the grimoires yielded the information she sought, she contacted Yanaba. But the Navajo shaman who had helped Verah refine her magic and gifted her with the wisdom of his years had no answers for her.

  Verah blew out a breath of exasperation. If Yanaba didn’t have the answer, maybe the spell she was looking for didn’t exist.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  Victor Rinaldi listened attentively to the conversation taking place between his father and Russell Alissano. It concerned Kiya’s disappearance, of course. Damn the girl. Even when she wasn’t here, she was nothing but trouble. He was under no illusions about her feelings for him. No doubt she had run off in an attempt to avoid their upcoming engagement.

  Well, she could run far and wide, but she wouldn’t be able to hide for long. Her old man was bound to sniff her out sooner or later. For his part, Victor hoped it would be sooner so he could get this marriage over with and move on.

  He was tired of pretending to be smitten with Alissano’s daughter, but he was determined to play the game of lovesick suitor to the end. The reward would make it all worthwhile.

  His people had lived in the shadows for too long. It was time for the werewolves to shed their veneer of humanity and take their proper place in the world—right at the top of the food chain.

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  Gideon’s Phoenix lair was located in a ground-floor apartment. There had originally been two barred windows facing the street, but with the owner’s approval, Gideon had had them plastered over with the understanding that, when he moved out, he would restore the windows. He had also replaced the flimsy wooden door with one of reinforced steel and installed a pair of the best dead bolts money could buy. His rent and utilities were paid ten years in advance, assuring that he had electricity and running water whenever he chose to return. The same was true of the other places he maintained here in the States. The lair in New York City was far more lavish than this one. The same was true of his place in Tennessee.

  Materializing in the bedroom, he lowered the wolf onto the mattress. Was she out for the rest of the night? If not, how would she react when she awoke in a strange place? Would she remember who he was before she tried to rip his throat out?

  He regarded her a moment, thinking that, wolf or woman, she was something to see. Her fur was as black as midnight, her ears small and pointed, her body trim and compact but well muscled. Quite a package, he mused, in whatever form she was in.

  Maybe some night he would change into his wolf form and they could run the hills together.

  Chuckling softly, he went into the bathroom and closed the door. After removing the filthy rags he had worn for the last three years, he stepped into the shower and turned the water on full blast. Damn, but it felt good! Closing his eyes, he stood under the spray and let the hot water sluice over his head and body. He hadn’t had the luxury of a real bath since Verah captured him. Whenever his stink got to be more than she could stand, she had turned a hose on him.

  He stayed in the shower a good forty minutes, washing his hair and scrubbing away the stink of captivity.

  When he returned to the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, the wolf was still out of it. He figured she would likely sleep through the night after all they’d been through.

  Moving to the dresser, he pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, then stretched out on the bed beside the wolf. He needed to feed but it didn’t seem wise to leave her here, alone, on the off chance she might wake up. For a moment, he contemplated taking a few sips of her blood, but the thought of getting a mouthful of fur quickly soured him on that idea.

  Turning onto his side, he stroked her head. Her fur was soft and warm. Touching her was soothing somehow. Closing his eyes, he slipped into oblivion, clean and at peace for the first time in years.

  Kay woke with a start, surprised to find herself lying naked in a strange bed with Gideon, in a room she didn’t recognize. How had they gotten here? And where was here? The last thing she remembered was a searing pain in her flank. When she touched her leg, there was no wound, but that didn’t surprise her. Most injuries healed overnight, although in her case, serious injuries sometimes took a little longer, since she was only half werewolf.

  She wrinkled her nose. The room smelled musty, as if no one had lived in it for a very long time. Of course, if this was Gideon’s home, it had been unoccupied for at least three years, which would account for the smell, and the thick layer of dust on the nightstand.

  Sitting up, she glanced around, wondering if there was anything to eat in the place. Considering who lived here, she doubted it. And even if there happened to be a stray lo
af of bread or a package of lunch meat lying around, after sitting on a shelf for three years, it certainly wouldn’t be edible.

  Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

  It had only been a few days since she had showered, but it seemed longer. She washed her body twice and her hair three times before she felt clean.

  Wrapped in a towel, she returned to the bedroom. A glance at Gideon showed he was still sleeping soundly. She bit down on her lower lip for a moment before moving to the mahogany dresser against the far wall. Rummaging through the drawers, she found a short-sleeved navy T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants similar to the ones he was wearing. The pants were miles too big and too long, but better than nothing. She used a belt she found in the closet to keep them up, rolled the cuffs so she wouldn’t trip, and left the bedroom to do a little exploring.

  The living room was sparsely furnished with little more than a dark leather sofa, a rectangular coffee table made of distressed oak, and a large bookcase filled with books, magazines, and a bronze statue of a tiger, all covered with dust. A state-of-the-art flat-screen TV hung over the fireplace. The fourth room was the kitchen. The cupboards were empty. There was no stove, only a small white refrigerator, also dusty. She stared at it, grimacing as she pictured the inside filled with bags of old blood.

  Going back into the living room, she dropped down on the sofa, displacing little puffs of dust. She needed something to eat. Unfortunately, she had no cell phone with which to order anything and no money to pay for it anyway. And no idea where she was. For all she knew, she could be in the middle of Timbuktu. She regarded the TV for a moment. Gideon had been away for three years. What were the odds that the electricity was still on? Only one way to find out. Taking the remote from the coffee table, she hit the on switch, pleased to discover that the TV had power and the batteries in the remote weren’t dead. She was relieved to see a familiar news program. At least she was still in the country.