Desire the Night(60)

Russell glanced around the room, noting Gideon’s clothes folded over the chair, his daughter’s clothing scattered on the floor, the bed rumpled, the sheets smelling of sex. “What have you done?”

Kay lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I’d think the answer should be obvious.”

Without warning, her father slapped her, a single, stinging blow.

She reeled backward, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes watering from the pain. But it was the disdain in her father’s eyes, the fact that he had actually struck her, that hurt the most.

“Victor, Diego, wait in the other room. Kiya, get dressed.”

She held her ground, waiting for her father to leave.

Russell shook his head, then moved to stand in front of the window, his back toward her. “You’ve defied me for the last time, daughter,” he said, his voice cold and without affection. “Get dressed.”

Kay’s hands were shaking as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Never in all her life had she been so humiliated, or seen her father so angry. Sitting on the bed to put on her shoes, she wondered how far Gideon had gone. And when, if ever, she would see him again.





Gideon hovered outside the Shadow Pack’s compound, invisible to human—and werewolf—eyes. He had dissolved into mist on leaving Kay, had followed her and the werewolves when they left the hotel. A taxi had awaited the four of them at the curb. It had been easy to stow away in the trunk.

The cab had stopped a short time later at a local airport, where Kay’s father had ushered her and the others into a private plane. Victor and his father, both silent on the ride to the airport, remained subdued as Kay’s father took the controls and taxied down the runway.

It had been an odd experience, taking to the air in a plane when he wasn’t in corporeal form. The flight from Vegas to a small landing strip outside the Pack’s compound had taken little more than an hour. He had stowed away in the trunk of the waiting car, only to be jerked out of it when the car passed through the gate in the fence. Someone—Kay’s father, no doubt—had rescinded Gideon’s invitation, rendering it impossible for him to cross the fence line.

A minor setback. He had more pressing needs at the moment; namely, to obtain something to wear. And something to eat. Not necessarily in that order.

When he returned, he would open the mind link between himself and Kay and let her know he was nearby.

And God help Russell Alissano if the man laid so much as a finger on Kay again.





Kay felt like a condemned felon as her father escorted her to one of the tiny rooms in the basement. They were little more than cells, really, a place where he confined new wolves who were having difficulty making the transition, or wolves who wantonly disobeyed pack rules. She supposed she fit the latter category.

Sitting on the narrow cot, with her knees drawn up to her chin, she stared at the wall. She had been locked up three times in a remarkably short period—first by Verah, then by Victor, and now by her father—and she was getting mighty damn sick of it. She was on her honeymoon, for crying out loud. She should be with Gideon, not locked up like a common criminal.

She growled low in her throat when she recalled the way Victor had looked at her, as if she was some kind of whore. Where did he get off judging her when he had kidnapped her? She frowned, certain he wouldn’t have dared such a thing without her father’s approval. And just as certain that her father had given it.

As if conjured by the thought, the door opened and her father stepped into the room.

One look at his face, and she went cold all over. She had only seen that expression once before, when he had sentenced a rogue werewolf to death.

He closed the door behind him. “We need to talk.”

Those four words always meant bad news. Unable to help herself, she began to tremble.

“You have defied me at every turn. You have humiliated me in front of our people, and what’s worse, in front of the Green Mountain Pack.”

She stared at him, her mouth dry, her palms damp. She would have been less frightened if he had slapped her or yelled at her. Anything would be better than his soft words, the quiet menace in his eyes.

“You ran away with that bloodsucker, and then you shamed yourself, and me, by sleeping with him.”

“We … we’re …” She took a deep breath; then, hoping the truth would make him think better of her, she said, “We’re married.”

“I guess you’ve forgotten that marriages performed outside the pack aren’t valid. In nine days, the moon will be full. You will wed Victor at that time.”

Gathering her courage, she said, “Father, I’m begging you, please don’t make me do this.”