Desire the Night

“You’ll be better soon, Blackie,” Kay said, scratching the dog’s ears. “I’ll see you Monday.”

Leaving the kennel, she grabbed her sweater, then waited by the door for Wanda, who was shutting down the computer.

“I’m starving,” Kay said. “Let’s go grab some dinner at Conklin’s. I’m in the mood for a good steak.” She always had a healthy appetite, and never more so than right before the full moon. Hard to believe it was almost that time again.

“Sounds good to me,” Wanda said. “I’m going to go home and change first. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”

“Okay. And then we can go to my place for dessert. I made an apple pie.”

“You make a mean apple pie,” Wanda remarked, licking the last of the crumbs from her lips.

“There’s more.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Wanda put her plate on the coffee table. “So, what shall we do tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Kay glanced at the new paperback waiting for her on the end table. “It’s been a long week, and …”

Wanda followed her gaze, then shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you can put it out of your head right now. It’s the weekend, girlfriend, time to kick up our heels.”

Kay shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking, too. And you can just forget it. I’m not going to that nightclub. We can go to a movie or bowling or whatever, but no nightclubs. I don’t party and I don’t sleep around and that’s all the guys who go to places like The Roan Horse are interested in.”

“How do you know that?” Wanda demanded, arms akimbo. “You’ve never even been there.”

“I’ve heard stories about that place.” Kay regarded Wanda’s appearance. With her spiked blond hair, black lipstick, black sweater, and skintight pants, Wanda looked like an escapee from a horror movie, but it was all the rage now. Kay had tried the Goth look once, but it wasn’t for her.

“Do you believe everything you hear?” Wanda asked.

“Not everything,” Kay admitted, but there were more strange things in heaven and on Earth than Wanda knew.

“Come on,” Wanda said impatiently. “Let’s at least check it out. It’ll do you good to get out of the house. You’ve been moping around here long enough.”

She had good reason to mope, Kay thought glumly. In just a few months, her father was going to announce her engagement to Victor Rinaldi, a man who was, in Kay’s opinion, an arrogant ass.

Wanda tapped her fingers on the arm of the sofa. “If you don’t like the club, we’ll leave and go to the movies.”

“You promise?” Kay asked, her resolve weakening.

“Yes, now hurry up and change and let’s go.”

Tired of arguing, Kay hurried into her bedroom. Shrugging out of her jeans and sweater, she pulled on a long-sleeved white silk shirt, a short black skirt, black leggings, and a pair of knee-high black boots that had cost her a month’s pay and were worth every penny.

Wanda grinned when Kay returned to the living room. “You’ll knock ’em dead.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Cheer up, girlfriend. Maybe a little firewater will put a sparkle in your eye and a spring in your step.”

Kay rolled her eyes at the firewater reference. Wanda didn’t do it often, but every now and then she couldn’t resist making a remark about Kay’s Lakota heritage.

Wanda moved toward the door, then paused and glanced over her shoulder. “You coming or not?”

“All right, paleface,” Kay said with an exaggerated air of resignation. “Let’s get it over with.”

Wanda was right, Kay thought as they climbed into Wanda’s red Jetta and drove to the club. She might as well go out and have a good time while she could.

It was Friday night and The Roan Horse was rockin’. Located within driving distance of several small towns, it was a magnet for singles—mostly young Lakota and Cheyenne males. Kay shook her head as she crossed the threshold. It was too crowded, too noisy, and after one glance at the occupants, she knew coming here had been a mistake.

She tugged on Wanda’s sleeve. “All right, I’m ready to go.”

“Are you kidding me? We just got here. We haven’t even had a drink yet. Any chance I can talk you into something stronger than a virgin piña colada tonight?”

Kay shook her head. She’d gotten drunk only once, on a single martini, and once was enough. She didn’t know if it was her werewolf blood, her Lakota blood, or a combination of the two, but she had no tolerance for liquor.

“I’ll see if I can find us a table,” she said, thinking that what she really needed to find was another friend, someone who liked country music and old movies. Wanda was always into the next new thing, no matter what it was.

Trevor stood at the bar, his gaze drifting over the crowd. He didn’t know what he was doing here tonight. Friday night was date night, even at The Roan Horse, a bad time for what he had in mind. He was thinking of calling it a lost cause and going home when two females entered the club. The blonde with the spiked hair had a worldly air about her that would likely make her hard to charm. But the black-haired one … she looked perfect. Innocent. Gullible.

When the blonde headed for the bar, Trevor made his move. Pasting a benign smile on his face, he walked past the dark-haired one, accidentally bumping her arm. “Excuse me,” he said, flashing an easy grin.

“No problem,” she said with a friendly smile. “There’s quite a crowd here tonight.”

He nodded. “My name’s Trevor Clark.”

“Kay Alissano.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to dance?”

“Of course she would,” the blonde said, coming up behind them, a drink in each hand. “Go on, girlfriend, have a little fun for a change.”

The girl, Kay, glared at her friend, but allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.

All too easy, he thought. He asked her about herself, her family, and when the dance was over, he urged her to have a drink with him.

Kay glanced at Wanda, who was out on the dance floor, practically glued to her partner. No help there. She regarded Trevor thoughtfully. He was tall and good-looking, with a winning smile, short brown hair and brown eyes.

“One drink,” she agreed, taking a place at an empty table. After all, what could it hurt? “A virgin piña colada, please.”