Desire the Night (19 page)

She answered the door before he knocked. As soon as she saw him, she made some kind of intricate sign with the fingers of her right hand, no doubt meant to ward off evil.

“Kusuma Ila?” She was a hundred if she was a day, Gideon thought, with skin as brown and wrinkled as old saddle leather. Her hair, worn in a long braid over her shoulder, was snow white; her eyes were deep-set, as black and sharp as those of a raven. She sure as hell looked like a witch.

She tilted her head to one side. “Have you come to drink my blood?”

“Do I look hungry?”

She grinned. “My blood is so old, one taste and you would spit it out.”

“Keep your blood, old woman. It’s your professional help I need.”

She studied him for several moments, then stepped back. “Come in, nightwalker.”

In spite of the old woman’s invitation, Gideon felt the threshold’s resistance as he stepped across it. It was, he thought, a sign of the witch’s power.

The handkerchief-sized living room was crowded with a curved sofa, a round coffee table, an end table with a wrought-iron lamp, and a well-used rocking chair. A crooked shelf held a turtle rattle, a length of braided rope, a turquoise rock, and what looked like the bleached skull of a cat. Every surface was piled high with old newspapers and magazines. A battered bookshelf was stuffed with paperback books, mostly mysteries. A deer head was mounted over the sofa. A pretty yellow canary occupied a white wicker cage in one corner. Two black cats were curled up beside the rocker.

The witch cleared off a section of the sofa and gestured for Gideon to sit down. When he was seated, she lowered herself into the rocking chair. “What brings you here?”

“My woman is under some sort of enchantment cast by another witch. I want to know if you can break it.”

“What kind of enchantment?”

“She doesn’t respond to anything. It’s like she’s asleep with her eyes open.”

Kusuma Ila nodded as she rocked back and forth. “It is a simple spell, easily undone.”

“That’s great. Can you come now?”

“No. You must bring her here. I did not live to be an old woman by taking foolish chances, or visiting the lairs of nightwalkers after dark.”

Gideon chuckled. “Right,” he said, liking her humor and her forthright attitude. “Is now a good time?”

She nodded. “I will be here.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Since the witch knew what he was, Gideon didn’t see any reason to hide his powers from her.

A thought took him back to his place. Kay was as he had left her.

He lifted her gently into his arms, then willed himself back to Kusuma Ila’s crowded house.

If the old woman was startled by his abrupt reappearance in her living room, it didn’t show on her weathered countenance. “Put her on the sofa.”

Gideon did as she instructed.

Rising, the witch hobbled toward the sofa. “Who did this to her?”

“A witch named Verah.”

“Ah.”

“You know her?”

Kusuma Ila nodded. “I know of her. Nothing good.”

“I can believe that,” he muttered darkly.

Kusuma Ila nodded to herself, then left the room. She returned a moment later bearing a wooden bowl, an eagle feather, a book of matches, and a small bag. She set the bowl on the coffee table, opened the bag, and poured the contents into the bowl. After striking a match, she set the bowl’s contents on fire. Blue smoke rose in the air, and with it the scents of sage and sweetgrass.

Murmuring softly in what Gideon assumed was Apache, Kusuma Ila waved the eagle feather over the bowl, drawing the smoke toward Kay. Gradually, the old woman’s chanting grew louder, stronger. This went on for several minutes.

Gideon stood near Kay’s head. His hands clenched into fists as the old witch’s power filled the room. He could feel it pushing against him, moving over his skin like an invisible hand. It didn’t hurt, but it made the hair on his arms stand at attention.

With a sharp cry, Kusuma Ila dropped the feather on the table, then clapped her hands together three times.

Gideon swore in amazement when Kay blinked, gasped, and then sat up, her expression bemused as she glanced around. “What happened?” She looked up at Gideon. “Where are we?”

Taking her hand in his, he gave it a squeeze. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Kusuma Ila, thank you. What can I give you in return?”

“The wand of the witch who enchanted your woman.”

“That might not be so easy to obtain. If I can’t get her wand, would you settle for a broom?”

Kusuma Ila lifted one brow, apparently not amused by his reference to witches and their ubiquitous brooms. “It is the wand or nothing.”

“And if I can’t get it?”

“Do not worry,” Kusuma Ila said with a wave of her hand. “If you cannot, you cannot. No harm will befall you, or your woman.”

“I’ll do my best to get it,” Gideon promised.

“That is all I ask.
Yadalanh,
nightwalker.”

“Until we meet again, old one,” Gideon replied.

He took Kay to his lair in New York.

“So,” she said when they were safely curled up on the sofa in his apartment. “What happened? Who was that old woman? How did I get there? And why can’t I remember?”

“Slow down, darlin’. One question at a time. Verah managed to get inside Victor’s house. I saw her coming out. Apparently she put some sort of spell on you. It left you like a … I don’t know, like a zombie, I guess. You didn’t talk. You didn’t blink. I took you to my lair in Phoenix, then went looking for a witch to see if she could break the spell. And she did.”

Kay digested what he had told her, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. “All I remember is going to sleep at Victor’s, and then waking up in that old woman’s house.”

She frowned. All hell must be breaking loose back home. Victor was probably furious. Her father, too. They were no doubt scouring the countryside looking for her. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they found her. For a moment, the thought frightened her, and then anger took over. If anyone should be furious, it was her! She had been kidnapped, thrown in a trunk, and locked in a cellar. Enough was enough.

“Kiya? Are you all right?”

“What? Oh, of course. How on earth did you find a witch?”

“The Yellow Pages,” Gideon said, laughing.

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Just looked under ‘Witches,’ and there she was. The only one in the book.”

“That’s amazing. I never knew witches advertised.” Kay shook her head. “After our experience with Verah, I’m surprised you went looking for another one.”

“You were under a witch’s spell. I didn’t know any other way to break it.”

“So,” she asked after a moment, “where’s Verah now?”

“Your future father-in-law has her.”

“I feel sorry for her, then. Victor’s father hates witches even more than he hates vampires.”

“How the devil can you feel sorry for her?” Gideon shook his head in disbelief. “Verah would have killed you in a heartbeat and dragged me back to her torture chamber if she’d had the chance. I hope to hell he kills her. That’s the only way you’ll ever be safe.”

“Hey!” she admonished as his eyes went red, “don’t go all vampire on me, okay?”

He took several deep breaths. “Sorry.” Gathering her into his arms, Gideon kissed her cheek. “I proposed to you a while back. And if I remember correctly, you said yes. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

With a sigh, she snuggled against him. “No way.”

“So, what do you say, Wolfie? Should we go find a justice of the peace and tie the knot?”

“I say the sooner, the better, Vampy.” She refused to think about her parents. No doubt they would be angry and upset. Well, turnabout was fair play. Besides, she was too excited at the prospect of marrying Gideon to worry about the consequences now.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked.

“Tomorrow night sounds perfect.” She glanced at her wrinkled blue dress, noting the grease spot on the hem, then burst out laughing. “But first I need something to wear.”

Chapter 24

Kay wandered through Gideon’s apartment, too restless to sit still, too excited at the thought of becoming his wife to think about anything else. Mrs. Gideon Marquet. Kiya Marie Marquet. She giggled, thinking that if she was still in high school, she would be drawing red hearts around her name and Gideon’s on her notebook.

Around noon, hunger drove her into the den. Earlier, she had found a note advising her that he had gone shopping while she slept, and that she would find bread and doughnuts in the den, milk and sandwich makings in the refrigerator.

Now, she stood in front of the small refrigerator, reluctant to open the door. What if it was also filled with bags of fresh blood? She wasn’t really squeamish; she killed rabbits and deer on a regular basis, but dining on blood in bags? It was just too creepy. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, relieved that the only items in the fridge were a quart of milk, a package of cheese, and three kinds of deli meat.

She ate three doughnuts—two chocolate, and one chocolate buttermilk—as well as a ham and cheese sandwich, then washed it all down with milk straight from the carton, since Gideon didn’t keep any dishes or glassware in the apartment.

Time and again, she tiptoed into the bedroom just to look at him. He was gorgeous, like an enchanted prince condemned to live only by night. She grinned as her imagination took flight. He was the prince and she was the princess; only, in her fairy tale, it was the kiss of the princess that brought the prince to life.

The day dragged on. And on. She switched on the TV, flipped through the channels, and turned it off.

Finally, about four o’clock, she went into the bedroom and crawled into bed beside Gideon. Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes. And fell asleep, content at last.

Gideon woke with the soft, round curves of Kay’s body pressed close to his side, one of her legs lying across his, her breath warm on his neck, her hair like silk against his shoulder. He lay there, unmoving, basking in her nearness. Until Kay entered his life, he had never fallen asleep with a woman in his bed, nor wakened to find one beside him. It was a rare pleasure, and a sign of his complete trust in her that he allowed her to know where he took his rest.

Tonight, she would be his bride. The thought made him smile. He had never expected to marry anyone, let alone a werewolf. He chuckled softly. A strange union, that, vampire wed to werewolf, monster to monster.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, nudging him in the side.

“We are.”

Kay raised up on her elbow and stared down at him. “Why do you say that?” she asked, looking offended.

“You don’t find it amusing, a marriage between a vampire and a werewolf?”

“No. I find it … strangely romantic.”

“
Strange
is the word, all right.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Scooting to the far side of the bed, she sat up, her arms folded over her breasts. “Maybe you’d like to call the wedding off.”

“Hey, Wolfie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But, come on, have you ever heard of a vampire and a werewolf getting hitched? It’s like a cat marrying a mouse, or a lion falling in love with a lamb.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I guess it is unusual.”

In a blur of movement, he was beside her, his arm stealing around her waist, drawing her back down on the mattress beside him. “You don’t want to fight on our wedding night, do you?”

His hand slid under the slip she had worn to bed, caressing her thigh, sliding up and down in long, sensual strokes that made her toes curl and her stomach clench with pleasure.

“Kiya?”

“No.” She gasped as his hand moved to her belly. “I don’t want to fight. But I still need something to wear.”

“Women,” he muttered good-naturedly. “All they think about are clothes.”

“And chocolate,” she said. “And right now, I need both.”

“Here.” Quitting the bed, Gideon pulled a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from his closet and tossed them to her.

Kay looked at him, one brow raised. “This is getting to be a habit,” she muttered darkly.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, you could go out as you are. You look mighty fetching in that slip. Of course, people are likely to stare.”

With an incredulous shake of her head, Kay turned her back to him, yanked the slip over her head, and pulled on the sweatpants and T-shirt. Both were miles too big. Sometime in the near future, she was going to buy a few outfits and leave changes of clothes in each of his lairs.

“I just hope you don’t expect me to wear your shoes,” she muttered irritably.

“Don’t worry, Wolfie,” he said, stifling a grin. “Your feet won’t touch the ground.”

He was as good as his word. Sweeping her into his arms, he transported them to the sidewalk in front of Bloomingdale’s.

Kay didn’t know whether to blush or laugh when he carried her up to the third floor. One of the salesclerks—ever polite no matter the circumstances—came forward. She tsked softly as she noted Kay’s outfit. “My dear, I can see that you need help immediately.”

“You have no idea,” Kay said, squirming in Gideon’s arms. “Gideon, put me down.”

He lowered her to her feet—her bare feet—and bowed from the waist. “I’m going downstairs. I’ll meet you back up here in, what? An hour?”

“At least,” the saleswoman said emphatically.

Gideon had been waiting about ten minutes past the agreed upon hour when Kay finally emerged from the dressing room wearing a clingy pink sweater and a pair of slinky black pants. Sometime during her shopping spree, she had bought a pair of shoes. He paid the bill, then picked up two large brown bags. “Ready?”

A smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Aren’t you going to carry me home?”

Gideon glanced at the numerous shoppers milling around, several of whom were glancing surreptitiously in their direction. “Not right now.”

Their next stop was the wedding salon on the eighth floor of Macy’s, where Kay bought the first gown she tried on. White heels and a shoulder-length veil came next and she was ready to go in less than twenty minutes.