Victor, who had always been arrogant, grew more so with every passing day. And the days leading up to her wedding were passing far too quickly.
She had never been more miserable in her whole life, not even when she’d been locked up in Verah’s basement.
She spoke only when spoken to. On the few occasions when she was given a choice, she opted to stay in her bedroom, preferring her own company to that of her parents, members of the pack, and most especially Victor Rinaldi. The thought of being his wife, of having to bear him a child, made her physically ill. She longed for someone to talk to, a girlfriend she could confide in. For the first time, she realized she had no close friends within the pack. And even as she wondered why, she knew it was because she was the Alpha’s daughter and that her standing placed an invisible gulf between her and everyone else.
The only bright spot in her life came late at night, when Gideon opened the blood bond between them and spoke to her mind, promising her that, somehow, he would get her safely away, assuring her that he loved her, would always love her.
But the days hurried by, one after another, and all too soon, eight days had passed. She was in tears when Gideon opened the link between them the night before she was to marry Victor.
He didn’t have to ask what was wrong. We still have time, he said.
She shook her head. I’m to be married tomorrow afternoon.
Gideon swore a vile oath. He should have expected that her father would arrange for the wedding to take place during the day, thereby assuring that Gideon couldn’t crash the wedding and steal the bride. Hardly necessary, since Alissano had revoked his invitation. Damn the man.
Tomorrow night, the pack will run, and I’ll have no choice but to run with them. And then … she couldn’t say the words, not even in her mind.
Jealousy sprouted like a noxious weed in Gideon’s soul as he imagined Victor and Kay running side by side through the night, mating under the light of the full moon. The sound of her tears was like a stake through his heart.
I’ll think of something, he promised, and hoped to hell he could keep his word.
Filled with impotent rage and a bitter sense of helplessness, Gideon stalked the dark streets of Jackson. Anger and frustration fired his hunger and he attacked the first man he saw. He felt a rush of guilt for the brutal way he assaulted his prey. Usually, he spoke to their minds, telling them not to be afraid, assuring his prey that he meant them no harm. But not tonight. Tonight, he was the monster of myth and legend, a predator without equal, without mercy, who took what he wanted, what he needed, with no regard for the mortal he preyed upon.
It was only when the man’s heartbeat grew slow and erratic, when his eyes rolled back in his head, that Gideon came to himself.
Tamping down his anger, Gideon ripped into his own flesh and let a few drops of his blood drip into the man’s mouth. Dammit, he had almost killed the guy.
As color returned to the man’s cheeks, Gideon spoke to his mind, erasing the horror of what had happened before sending the dazed mortal on his way.
Gideon stared at his wrist, watched the edges of the ragged wound knit together, leaving no trace of injury. He shook his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he had given in to the lust for blood. He didn’t count the years he had spent locked up in Verah’s basement. The women and occasional men he had preyed on back then had been a matter of survival. The people the witch had brought to him were fated to die, either at his hands or by slowly starving to death, since the witch had never seen fit to feed any of them.
Gideon shoved his hands into his pants pockets. He regretted taking those lives, but like every other creature on the planet, he had a strong sense of self-preservation. Given the same choice, he knew he would do it all again.
Moving silently through the drifting shadows of the night, he thought about the lives he had taken in the last 360 years.
In the beginning, he had kept track of every kill. He had hated himself for what he was, for the lives he had taken to sustain his own. But, as he’d told Kay, as time went on, he had learned to control his hunger. He had discovered that he could enjoy the thrill of the hunt and satisfy his thirst without sacrificing a life.
Gideon glanced around. Without noticing it, he had made his way back to the Alissano compound. He opened his senses, searching for Kay. She was in her room, asleep. A young male werewolf stood guard outside her door. Another paced restlessly below her window.
Gideon raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t get into the main house, or even inside the perimeter fence. Alissano had made sure of that. Of course, he could try a little mind control on the werewolf standing guard below Kay’s window, but even if he managed to get inside the fence, the odds of compelling one of the werewolves inside the house were slim, since Gideon was certain that Alissano would have chosen men with strong powers of resistance to guard his daughter.
So, getting inside the Alissano house was not an option, at least not for him. But what if someone else could get inside the Alissano residence, stop the wedding, and steal the bride away? Even if Gideon couldn’t have her for himself, he might be able to arrange it so she didn’t have to marry that ass, Victor Rinaldi, or spend the rest of her life in servitude to a man she hated, forced to submit her will to that of another.
Gideon scrubbed a hand across his jaw. He knew just the person he needed. Someone who would be willing to spirit Kay away if the price was right.
Gideon stared at the single drop of dried crimson on his wrist. His blood, he mused. It was a small price to pay for Kay’s safety.
All he had to do now was figure out how to free Verah and then persuade her to do what he wanted before it was too late.
Shit. Who was he kidding? His odds of getting inside the Rinaldi compound weren’t any better than his odds of getting into Alissano’s.
Her wedding day. Kay stared at her reflection in the mirror. She recalled Gideon remarking that she was the most unhappy-looking bride he had ever seen. He should see her now, she thought glumly. She looked even worse, if that was possible. There were dark shadows under her eyes, caused by a week of restless days and sleepless nights.
Her stomach growled loudly, a reminder that she had refused breakfast and lunch; but how could she be expected to have a hearty appetite on this, the worst day of her life?
There was a knock at the door, and then her mother peeked inside. “Kiya, you’re not even dressed yet!” Dorothy entered the room, a frown creasing her brow. “You need to hurry. The ceremony starts in thirty minutes.”