But it wasn’t food or water that occupied her thoughts now. There was only one more night until the full moon. Already, she could feel the change starting within her, the tension, the flutter of anticipation.
In the past, she had gone into the wilderness the night before the change occurred, away from people and civilization, where she was free to run and hunt without fear of discovery.
Her wolf had never been caged up, never been confined in a small space.
In such close quarters, would she feel the need to attack Gideon? Would he have to kill her to defend himself? Which one of them was the stronger? How would she live with herself if she destroyed him?
She turned away from the bars and began to pace the cell. In her wolf form, she had razor-sharp teeth and claws and increased physical strength. Gideon also had sharp teeth and great strength. In addition, she knew he had preternatural powers she lacked, plus he had the ability to read her mind. Would he be able to read her thoughts when she was in her wolf form? If so, that would be a decided disadvantage for her; he would know what she intended to do before she did it.
With a sigh, she sank down on the floor. Hugging her bent knees to her chest, she rested her forehead on her arms and closed her eyes. How lonely the days were with no one to talk to and nothing to do but contemplate an uncertain future. How long the nights were when she sat with Gideon, wondering if every breath would be her last.
Her only hope was that, in her wolf form, she would be strong enough to break down the cell door, defeat the witch, and escape before the unthinkable happened and she killed Gideon. Or he killed her.
She glanced over her shoulder to where he lay sleeping. For the first time, she wondered if she should try to kill him before he killed her. But she couldn’t do it.
She had never killed anyone.
He stirred and she quickly put all such thoughts out of her mind.
But not quick enough.
“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” he said mildly.
“Try what?”
He sat up, one brow arched in wry amusement. “It isn’t safe to attack a vampire at rest,” he said. “Most of us are able to sense danger and rouse long enough to defend ourselves.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, facing him. And then she frowned. “Why don’t you wake up when the witch takes your blood?”
He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I would, if she intended to kill me.” He leaned forward, nostrils twitching. “You smell like meat.”
“The witch sent me a sandwich earlier.”
Gideon regarded her a moment before asking, “What was your life like, before this?”
“Pretty ordinary, actually, except for the werewolf thing. I went to work during the week, relaxed on the weekends. I hung out with my best friend, Wanda.” She shrugged. “Nothing special.”
“Is Wanda a werewolf, too?”
“No.”
“Does she know what you are?”
Kay shook her head. She had shared a lot of things with Wanda, but telling her best friend she turned into a wolf once a month hadn’t been one of them.
“I thought werewolves were pack animals.”
“We are, but I wanted to live on my own for a year, and after a lot of arguments with my father, he finally agreed. What about you? What did you do before”—she waved a hand, indicating the cell—“this?”
“Whatever the hell I wanted.” He tugged against the chains that bound his ankles, cussing mightily as the silver burned deeper into his skin. “Dammit!” he snarled.
Kay recoiled as his lips peeled back, revealing his fangs.
The anger drained out of him as quickly as it had risen and he slumped back against the wall, his jaw clenched against the fresh wave of pain caused by tugging against his shackles.
Kay wrapped her arms around her waist as her stomach growled loudly. One sandwich and a can of soda was hardly enough to make up for all the meals she had missed. She looked up, meeting Gideon’s gaze.
“I can ease your pain, if you want.”
“You mean by giving me more of your blood?”
He shrugged. “I’d rather give it to you than have Verah take it.”
Kay bit down on her lower lip, thinking about his offer. She knew he had hypnotized her into drinking from him before, but she had no memory of it. Still, she grimaced at the idea.
“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 it 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.