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Brett lifted his head. Yanking a handkerchief from his back pocket, he wiped his mouth. “Now what?”
“Turnabout is fair play,” Gideon said.
Brett looked at Kay. “Don’t make me do this.”
“Just do it.”
Brett glared at Gideon. “Go on then!” he said, thrusting out his right arm. “Get it over with.”
Gideon licked the wound in his wrist, sealing it, then rolled his shirtsleeve down. “Forget it.”
“What?” Brett’s eyes widened in surprise. “But, I thought … ?”
“You heard me. Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Kay looked at Gideon, one brow raised, as Brett hurried out of the barn. “I thought you wanted a drink in return?”
Gideon shook his head. “Are you kidding me? Werewolf blood is as bitter as gall.”
“Really? Then why do you drink mine?”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Gideon drew her body up against his. “Yeah, well, yours is different.”
“It is?”
“Oh, yeah.” Lowering his head, he ran his tongue along the side of her neck. “Sweet,” he murmured. “Well, not exactly sweet, but satisfying like no other.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Have you ever made love in a hayloft?”
Kay swayed against him, her fingers threading through the thick ebony hair at his nape. “No, have you?”
“Do I have to answer that?”
“Yes. No.” She scowled at him. “But you have, haven’t you?”
He shrugged. “Does it count if it was three hundred years ago, give or take a decade or two?”
She huffed a sigh, her expression wistful. “No matter what we do, you’ll always have already done it with someone else.”
“Ah, darlin’,” he murmured, “nothing that happened before I met you has any meaning.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t you know one of the reasons I love you is that, when I’m with you, everything old is new again?”
“Gideon …”
He stroked her cheek, his knuckles lightly caressing her skin, as his gaze moved over her face. “It’s true, Kiya. You make me feel alive. What’s even more amazing is that you make me feel young again.”
“I love you, my husband.”
“And I love you.” Grabbing a horse blanket folded over a stall door, he draped it over his shoulder, then drew Kay into his arms and willed the two of them into the loft.
Setting Kay on her feet, he spread the blanket over a pile of fragrant hay. “Your bed awaits, my lady wife.”
Smiling at the endearment, she sank down on the blanket, then reached for his hand and tugged him down beside her. Holding his gaze, she slipped out of her shirt and bra, kicked off her sandals, then slowly wriggled out of her jeans.
He watched her every move, the heat in his eyes bringing a flush of pleasure to her cheeks.
“So,” she murmured, dragging his T-shirt over his head and tossing it aside, “who was that woman you ravished in the hayloft three hundred years ago?”
Gideon shook his head. “I forget,” he said, his voice thick as he stripped off the rest of his clothing, then tucked her beneath him. “Kiya, my sweet wife, there’s never been anyone but you.”
* * *
Chapter 39
It was nearing midnight when Gideon and Kay left the barn. Hand in hand, they strolled across the yard toward the main house.
“You’ve got hay in your hair,” Gideon remarked.
“And stars in my eyes,” Kay said, grinning up at him.
Chuckling softly, he plucked the hay from her hair, then drew her into his arms and kissed her.
She sighed when he released her.
“We haven’t talked about where we go from here,” he said as they continued toward the house.
“I know.” She’d been reluctant to bring it up.
“So?”
“I guess it’s up to you,” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the one with a home and a family. Responsibilities. Not me.”
Kay nodded. For the first time, she felt the full burden of being Alpha of the Shadow Pack weighing down on her. She hadn’t really considered what it would entail, becoming the Alpha. Her only thought in challenging Victor had been to save her aunt’s life.
“So,” Gideon said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I guess the question is, what do you want to do?”
“I want to be with you.”
“I’m here.”
“For how long?” Finally, the question she’d been afraid to ask was out in the open.
“Ah, Kiya, love, I’ll be here for as long as you want me.”
It was the right answer. The perfect answer. And reminded her, all too clearly, that he had already lived over three hundred years and would likely live three hundred more after she was gone.
It was, she mused, a most depressing thought. But before she could remark on it, something slammed into her left shoulder, followed by a sharp report that echoed off the hills. The next thing she knew, Gideon had pushed her down on the ground.
“Stay there!” he hissed, and vanished into the darkness.
A moment later, she heard a harsh cry of pain, and then only silence.
By now, her shoulder was throbbing and her arm was numb. A warm stickiness told her she was bleeding. Pressing her hand over the wound, she realized with something of a shock that she’d been shot.
A few minutes later, Gideon strode into view.
Kay gasped when she saw him. He was dragging a body with one hand and carrying a rifle in the other. A second body was draped over his shoulder.
Gideon gestured at the body on the ground. “Recognize him?” he asked.
“His first name’s Aaron. I don’t remember his last name.” She turned away, sickened more by the thought that Rudolfo had tried to kill her in the dead of night than by the sight of Rinaldi’s assassin with his throat torn out.
Gideon lowered the second body to the ground.
“Bobby!” Kay exclaimed. “He was guarding the fence line.”
“Yeah? Well, he didn’t do a very good job. Rinaldi’s man took him unawares, then broke his neck and ripped out his heart.”
Kay covered her mouth with her hand, afraid she might be sick. When the nausea passed, she said, “It’s my fault he’s dead. I shouldn’t have sent Bobby out alone.”
