A large barn painted a traditional red and white stood near the far corner of the property, along with several peeled-pole corrals, three wooden sheds, and what looked like a chicken coop. A faint breeze carried the scent of cows, goats, sheep, horses, pigs, and chickens.
“Home, sweet home,” Kay murmured, moving to stand beside him.
“Beats the hell out of Verah’s basement,” Gideon remarked as he opened the trunk and removed her luggage.
Kay couldn’t argue with that. But no matter how lavish the rooms or how kind the guards, a prison was still a prison. And after spending nine months on her own, the compound seemed more like a jail than ever.
Gathering her self-control, she climbed the porch steps, hesitated a moment, then opened the door.
Gideon trailed at her heels, his senses on high alert. He paused outside the front door, repelled by the power of the threshold.
Kay glanced over her shoulder when he didn’t follow her inside.
Gideon arched one brow. “Vampire, remember?”
“You really can’t come in? I always thought that was just some sort of myth.”
“I wish it was.”
“What happens when you try?”
“It’s like butting my head against a brick wall.”
“What happens if someone invites you in and then changes their mind?”
“They can revoke the invitation.”
She considered that a moment, then smiled and said, “Gideon Marquet, come in, and welcome.”
With a wry grin, he followed her into the house, across a tiled entryway, through a living room decorated in earth tones, and down a wide hallway lined on both sides with family portraits. They passed several closed doors before coming to a den paneled in rich, dark mahogany.
Gideon dropped her suitcase beside the door, then stood there, his arms crossed over his chest as he perused the room.
An antique rolltop desk stood against one wall; a floor-to-ceiling bookcase took up most of another. Four comfortable-looking chairs and a pair of love seats, all covered in a deep red fabric, were clustered together in one corner.
Kay’s father sat on one of the love seats, his back erect, his expression shuttered. A pretty woman with light brown hair and vivid blue eyes sat beside him, her hands tightly folded in her lap. Kay’s mother, Gideon supposed. A younger woman with the same stocky build and coloring as Kay’s father occupied the second love seat; a dark-haired man sat beside her. A tall man with short white-blond hair and pale, close-set brown eyes slouched in one of the chairs, his long legs stretched negligently in front of him.
As soon as Kay entered the room, the brown-haired woman leaped to her feet and threw her arms around Kay. “Welcome home, Kiya.”
“Hello, Mother.”
“I’ve missed you.” Kay’s mother stood back, her gaze moving over her daughter in a long, assessing glance. “You look well.”
“More than well,” the young blond male said, rising. “You’re even prettier than when you left us.”
“Hello, Victor,” Kay said, her voice cool.
He stepped toward her, smiling.
When he bent to kiss her, she turned her head to the side so that his lips grazed her cheek.
“Who is this with you?” the stocky woman asked.
“His name is Gideon Marquet, but I’m sure my father has already told you that. What you may not know is that Gideon saved my life, and I saved his. Gideon, this is my aunt Greta, and my uncle Brett. My mother, Dorothy. And Victor Rinaldi.”
“Her betrothed.” The hostility in Victor’s eyes held a silent warning for Gideon to keep his distance.
Dorothy and Victor returned to their seats.
Kay sat on the chair farthest from Victor’s.
After a moment, Gideon took the chair beside her, putting himself between Kay and Rinaldi. He grinned inwardly when Rinaldi scowled at him.
“How long do you plan to stay with us, Mr. Marquet?” Kay’s mother asked politely.
“I’m not sure.”
“My daughter said you saved her life, and she saved yours,” Alissano remarked. “I should like to hear that story in more detail, Kiya, if you don’t mind.”
It wasn’t really a request. She took a deep breath and then, never taking her gaze from Gideon, she related the story of how she and Wanda had gone clubbing, how she had been drugged and how, when she came to, she was in Verah’s basement. She told her father everything that had happened from that night on, leaving out only the intimate details of the time she had spent with Gideon, the times he had tasted her blood, and she had tasted his.
The room was silent when she finished.
After several moments, the Alpha rose. “You have my thanks, Marquet, for saving my daughter’s life and for bringing her safely home, where she belongs. As leader of the Shadow Pack, I grant you leave to stay with us for as long as you wish, with the understanding that you will not try to feed on any of my people. And that, if you hunt in the town, you leave no visible evidence of it.”