When she returned to the bedroom, he was there, lounging against the pillows.
“You look like a sultan awaiting his harem,” she remarked.
He jerked his chin in her direction. “Pretty small harem.”
“Are you complaining?”
His gaze moved over her, ever so slowly. “Nope. You’re all the woman I need.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She climbed into bed beside him and pillowed her head on his shoulder. “So,” she asked, a smile evident in her voice, “if we decide to share your blood with the pack, do you have enough to go around? I mean, we never discussed that part of it.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got enough.” He stroked the side of her neck. “But if you’re offering …”
“Anytime,” she murmured, and closed her eyes when his fangs skated lightly over her skin. Hard to believe she had once thought such a thing repulsive.
She was sorry when he lifted his head. “I’ll never understand why that feels so amazing.”
“I can make it hurt if you want.”
“Are you always so gentle with your prey? Does it feel as good to them as it does to me?”
Gideon dragged his hand over his jaw. Women. They sure asked a lot of difficult questions.
Kay poked him in the side. “Well?”
“In the beginning, I took what I wanted any way I could get it. I didn’t worry about those I fed on, or what they were feeling. Later, as I got older, I guess you could say I refined my eating habits. I never thought of myself as being gentle, but …” He shrugged. “A lot of vampires get off on causing fear. I did, too, in the beginning. There’s a certain thrill in the hunt—you probably know what I mean—but eventually I learned it could be just as satisfying to seduce my prey as it was to scare the crap out of them.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t know if it feels the same to everyone, Kiya. All I know is it’s not the same for me. No one’s ever made me feel the way you do.”
His words filled her with a soft, radiant glow. A glow that quickly sparked to flame when he covered her mouth with his in a long, searing kiss that robbed her of every coherent thought save the burning desire to feel the weight of his body on hers.
He lifted his head, his dark eyes tinged with red, his smile revealing a hint of fang. “There’s no hurry, love,” he whispered. “We have until dawn.”
Her hands moved over him. “I can’t wait that long,” she replied breathlessly. “Gideon …”
“All right,” he said, positioning her body beneath his. “A quickie for now.”
“And later?” she asked, gasping with pleasure as their bodies became one.
He laughed softly. “I’ll surprise you.”
* * *
Chapter 40
After a late breakfast, Kay decided it was time to tackle a chore she had been putting off—packing up her mother’s things. She would have to go through her father’s things, too. Not only his personal effects, but pack business, as well. But that could wait for another day.
She paused outside her mother’s sitting room, her hand on the knob. Although her parents had shared a bedroom, her mother had insisted on turning the adjoining bedroom into her own private place. It was only fair, she’d once told Kay, since Russell claimed the den as his own. It had been years since Kay had been inside her mother’s room.
She took a deep breath, let it out in a long shuddering sigh, and opened the door.
The scent of her mother’s favorite perfume lingered in the air. Standing inside the doorway, Kay glanced around the room. A lovely Queen Anne desk and matching chair made of gleaming cherrywood stood before the window that overlooked the backyard. A small bookcase held her mother’s favorite books; a curio cabinet held a collection of Royal Doulton figurines. An old-fashioned record player and an iPod sat side by side on a small table beside an antique fainting couch. Another table held a number of framed photographs. All the pictures were of Kay and her mother, Kay and Mark, or the three of them together. There were no photos of her father.
Murmuring, “Oh, Mom,” Kay picked up a photo of herself and Mark. It had been taken in front of the fireplace one Christmas morning. Kay wore a red flannel nightgown and cradled a beautiful ballerina doll in her arms. Mark was strumming a guitar, a huge grin on his face. They had been so happy then, innocent, certain that life would only get better.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Kay replaced the photograph. She quickly folded up most of her mother’s clothes, then left the room to get some boxes.