Desire the Night(74)

Yeah, I heard that.

Where are you?

Where I need to be.

You need to be here, with me.

The sound of his laughter filled her mind and warmed her heart. I’ll be there soon. In the meantime, take care of yourself.

Don’t go!

I’ll be in touch. I love you, Wolfie. Stay safe.

You, too.

Before she could say anything else, he was gone.

Kay frowned. What had Gideon meant when he’d said he was where he needed to be?





Gideon rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Whatever happened, however this turned out, he wouldn’t regret it as long as it ensured Kay’s well-being. In 360 years, he had never loved a woman the way he loved her. Nothing had even come close. He had seduced women, made love to them, even courted a few, but it had always been a game, a way to pass the time, to satisfy a lust even more primal than the hunger that plagued him. But Kay was different. He had known it the moment he woke and saw her huddling in a corner of the cage. She had been afraid, he had smelled the fear on her, yet she’d never let it show. She had even made a joke about vampires and how he was just “doing what comes naturally,” when he preyed upon those Verah had brought him.

He sat up straighter when he heard the witch’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Moments later, she was standing outside his cell, a familiar goblet in one hand, her favorite dagger in the other.

“So soon?” he asked. “You’re still looking good.”

“How nice of you to say so,” she said dryly. “But I can feel it wearing off, and I’d prefer to have some on hand as soon as I need it. Besides, orders were piling up while I was away.” She moved to the left side of the cage and knelt down. “Hold out your arm.”

Chains rattling, he did as bidden, then watched impassively as she jabbed the silver-bladed dagger into the large vein in his wrist. Blood flowed freely from the wound, quickly filling the jewel-encrusted cup.

When she withdrew the blade, the wound closed. “There,” she said, “that should last a while.”

Gideon met her satisfied gaze. The silver and the bloodletting weakened him physically, but he still had enough power to compel mortals. And, witch or not, Verah was mortal. It took only moments to implant a suggestion in her mind, and then he looked away.

Brow furrowed, the witch stared into the cup. She dipped her finger into the dark red fluid, then licked it off. “You know,” she said, “the next time I need to drink your blood, I think I’ll take it right from the source.”

Gideon slid his arm between the bars, palm up. “Why wait? If you drink it while it’s warm and fresh, it’ll taste better and the effects will last longer.”

She tilted her head to one side, as if considering his words, then reached for his arm. As if moving in slow motion, she dragged the dagger across his wrist. She leaned forward, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders, trailing in his blood as she ran her tongue over the shallow gash in his flesh.

Gideon held his breath as she drank deeply. Her hands gripped his forearm, her nails gouged furrows into his skin.

Abruptly, she lifted her head and pushed his arm away. When she tried to stand, he grasped the hem of her skirt.

“Let me go!” She clutched her stomach, a low moan rising in her throat. “What have you done?”

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small brown bottle. “I drank a little poison when the sun went down.”

She stared at him, her eyes wild. “What’s the antidote? Where is it? Give it to me!”

“There isn’t any.”

She sank to her knees, her breathing labored, her skin turning gray. “Help me… .”

Gideon shook his head, his eyes narrowing with revulsion as her years quickly caught up with her. Wrinkles spread across her face, the color faded from her hair, her hands turned skeletal, the skin liberally sprinkled with age spots.

She uttered an anguished cry and then toppled onto her side. Tremors wracked her from head to foot for several minutes, and then she went still.

Still clutching a handful of her skirt, Gideon leaned forward. Was she dead? But no, he could still hear the faint beat of her heart.

She let out an unholy shriek as her body began shriveling, shrinking, until she was as ugly on the outside as she had been on the inside. A last, desperate cry, and the life drained out of her.

Gideon stared at her a moment longer, his brow furrowing as her body disintegrated into dust.

Damn. He had never seen anything like that before. She really was old. Well, there was one good thing about it, he mused. He wouldn’t have to worry about disposing of the body. Dragging her skirt into the cell, he withdrew the silver key from the pocket, cursing as it scorched his palm, but it was a small price to pay for his freedom.