She lifted one brow when he slid into the booth across from her. “I guess you really weren’t very hungry.” She took a dinner roll from the basket in the center of the table and cut it in half.
“It was a meal, but not a banquet.”
Kay stared at him. “A banquet? Of blood?” she asked, grimacing.
He shrugged. “A stranger on the street, taken quickly, is just a meal. A woman I care for, savored slowly, is a banquet.” His gaze moved to the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat. “In spite of the slight bitterness in your blood, you, my furry friend, are a feast.”
It was the oddest compliment she had ever received but, for all that, Kay felt a faint flush creep up her neck. Lowering her gaze, she buttered the roll and took a bite.
“You’re blushing,” Gideon said. “Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”
At least he wasn’t reading her mind. She shook her head, and then she grinned. “No one’s ever called me a feast before. It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
His gaze moved over her, lingering on her lips, the pulse in her throat. “You are indeed a feast in every way, Kiya Marie Alissano.”
Kay was searching for a reply when her dinner came.
Gideon sat back, leaving her to enjoy her meal in silence. She had ordered prime rib—rare and big enough for two—a baked potato, broccoli, and a Coke. He eyed the juice pooled beneath the meat. The color made his mouth water.
She ate with gusto. It was one of the things he liked best about her.
Kay heaved a sigh when she pushed the plate away.
“No seconds tonight?” he asked, grinning.
“Not tonight. I’m stuffed.” And then, seeing the dessert cart, she said, “But I think I might have just enough room for a little chocolate mousse.”
Noticing that Kay was growing increasingly more withdrawn as they neared their destination, Gideon pulled off the highway. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“I just don’t want to go home, that’s all. I still have a few months of freedom left.” It surprised her to find that it wasn’t the compound she thought of when she spoke of home, but her apartment back in Custer. Would she ever see it again?
“I thought we agreed that staying with your father was the safest thing to do.”
“I know,” she said glumly.
“Maybe we could spend a few days somewhere close by,” he suggested.
“I’d like that.” A sudden smile lit her face. “Bondurant isn’t far.”
“What’s there?”
“Not much. It’s just a small community named for the man who established a ranch in Hoback Canyon early in the 1900s. Later, he built a store and a post office. It’s a pretty place. Probably not more than a hundred people live there year-round.”
“Okay, Bondurant it is.”
Kay leaned back against the seat. She loved Bondurant. In years past, she had attended the annual barbeques held in June, and Heritage Days in August. Best of all, the Gros Ventre Wilderness area was close by; remote and relatively unknown, it was one of her favorite places to hunt, second only to the Black Hills.
They reached the town just after midnight. All the houses and businesses were dark save for a quaint bed-and-breakfast at the south end of town. A single light burned in one of the downstairs windows; a small neon sign indicated a vacancy.
Gideon parked the car in the driveway, pulled their suitcases from the trunk, and followed Kay up the steps. A handwritten sign on the front door invited them in.
Gideon hesitated, wondering if a welcome sign from the owners of the house would be invitation enough to allow him inside. He opened the door for Kay, felt a faint shimmer of subdued power when he stepped warily across the threshold.
Inside, he glanced around. A small office was located to the left of the stairway. It was empty. “Nobody here.”
“Look.” Kay pointed to a wooden sign sitting on a small table. “It says to take the key and check in tomorrow.”
“Awfully trusting, aren’t they?”
“Well, it’s a small town. Not much to steal, I guess.”
“Good thing I’m just a vampire and not a thief or a mass murderer,” Gideon muttered.
With a shake of her head, Kay plucked the key from the table and started up the stairs.
Gideon trailed behind her, wondering if the owners would be as trusting if they knew a werewolf pack made its home a few miles away.
The room, decorated with antique oak furniture, was large and airy. A king-sized bed occupied a place between two windows that offered views of the distant mountains. Crisp white lace curtains hung at the windows, a wedding ring quilt covered the bed. A Bible and a Wyoming guidebook sat side by side on the four-drawer dresser.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Kay remarked.
Nodding, Gideon dropped their suitcases on the floor. “Are you tired?”
“No, why?”
“Well, we’ve got a few hours until dawn. I thought maybe we’d go for a walk.”
“I know just the place,” Kay said. “Just give me a minute to change my clothes and my shoes.”
Gideon sat on the end of the bed, his desire quickening while he watched Kay undress. Suddenly, the thought of going for a walk wasn’t as appealing as it had been. Scooting back against the headboard, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, afraid that if he took her in his arms here and now, he would never be able to let her go.
“Are you ready?”
He opened his eyes to see Kay—clad in jeans, sweater, and tennis shoes—standing beside the bed.
She lifted an inquisitive brow. “I thought you wanted to go for a walk.”
“Right.”
“The river isn’t far,” Kay said. “And it’s beautiful at night.”
Hand in hand, they left the house and made their way toward the river. He heard the hushed sound of slowly moving water before he saw the river. As Kay had said, it was beautiful. By moonlight, the river looked almost otherworldly as it meandered between low hills covered with pine trees and the brush-covered riverbank.
“Is it true vampires don’t change?” Kay asked after a time. “I mean, do they really stay the same as they were when they were turned?”
Gideon nodded. “Forever the same,” he murmured, and couldn’t hide the slight note of wistfulness in his voice.
“Hmm.” She couldn’t imagine what that would be like. Not growing old and sick would be nice, and yet change, whether good or bad, was a part of life. She studied him surreptitiously while they walked, admiring his broad shoulders, the way his jeans clung to his backside, the way the moon’s light bathed his long black hair with silver. Lucky for Gideon, that he had been turned while he was still young and virile, a man in the prime of his life, she mused. And lucky for her, too.
“Hmm, what?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just … nothing.”
He slid a glance at her, then stooped and picked up a rock. He skipped it across the water, then burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are.”
Kay sucked in a deep breath, knowing, even before he said anything else, that he had been walking around in her head again.
“So,” he drawled, “you think it’s lucky that I was turned in my prime?”
“Gideon!”
“Because my—let me put this as delicately as I can—because my backside is so fine?”
“I hate you,” she said, between clenched teeth. “I really hate you.”
He laughed as he pulled her into his arms. “Doesn’t sound like it to me, not when you think I’m the sexiest man you’ve ever met.”
“Please stay out of my head,” she implored. “It’s so unfair.”
“I know.” He cupped her face in his hands. “And I’d be happy to kiss you, right here, right now.” No longer laughing, he lowered his head to hers and kissed her deeply, almost desperately. She leaned into him, the lush curves of her body warming his, chasing away every thought but the need to possess her.
It took all of his willpower to let her go, to remind himself that he had brought her here to keep her safe.
“Gideon,” she murmured. “Maybe we should go …” Her head jerked up when a melancholy howl shattered the quiet of the night.
“You’re not afraid of a wolf, are you?” Gideon asked with a teasing grin.
“It’s not just any old wolf,” Kay said. “It’s my father.”
Gideon glanced up. A crescent moon hung low in the night sky. “I thought your people only changed when the moon was full?”
“Alphas can change anytime.”
“You neglected to mention that little fact,” he muttered.
“Did I? A few of the other wolves can also change at will.”
“I’m not worried about them,” Gideon said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Do you think your father knows we’re here?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze swept the hills. “I don’t think so. He usually goes out every night about this time and runs the perimeter of our territory.”
Another howl rumbled through the night. “So,” Gideon said, his gaze sweeping the darkness, “tell me about your old man.”
Kay wrapped her arms around her waist and stared into the distance. “What do you want to know?”
Gideon shrugged. “Anything. Everything.”
“He’s very strict. Very honest. Very Indian. His ties to the past, to the old ways, are strong. There are legends of shape-shifters among our people, tales told around campfires late at night.”
“Only they aren’t legends, are they?”
“Not entirely. It’s believed that the first true werewolf was a distant ancestor who was cursed by a witch for killing her pet wolf. Angry and afraid of what he’d become, the young warrior went crazy, killing everything that crossed his path.
