luxury of a real bath since Verah captured him. Whenever his stink got to be more than she could stand, she had turned a hose on him.
He stayed in the shower a good forty minutes, washing his hair and scrubbing away the stink of captivity.
When he returned to the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, the wolf was still out of it. He figured she would likely sleep through the night after all they’d been through.
Moving to the dresser, he pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, then stretched out on the bed beside the wolf. He needed to feed but it didn’t seem wise to leave her here, alone, on the off chance she might wake up. For a moment, he contemplated taking a few sips of her blood, but the thought of getting a mouthful of fur quickly soured him on that idea.
Turning onto his side, he stroked her head. Her fur was soft and warm. Touching her was soothing somehow. Closing his eyes, he slipped into oblivion, clean and at peace for the first time in years.
Kay woke with a start, surprised to find herself lying naked in a strange bed with Gideon, in a room she didn’t recognize. How had they gotten here? And where was here? The last thing she remembered was a searing pain in her flank. When she touched her leg, there was no wound, but that didn’t surprise her. Most injuries healed overnight, although in her case, serious injuries sometimes took a little longer, since she was only half werewolf.
She wrinkled her nose. The room smelled musty, as if no one had lived in it for a very long time. Of course, if this was Gideon’s home, it had been unoccupied for at least three years, which would account for the smell, and the thick layer of dust on the nightstand.
Sitting up, she glanced around, wondering if there was anything to eat in the place. Considering who lived here, she doubted it. And even if there happened to be a stray loaf of bread or a package of lunch meat lying around, after sitting on a shelf for three years, it certainly wouldn’t be edible.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she went into the bathroom and closed the door.
It had only been a few days since she had showered, but it seemed longer. She washed her body twice and her hair three times before she felt clean.
Wrapped in a towel, she returned to the bedroom. A glance at Gideon showed he was still sleeping soundly. She bit down on her lower lip for a moment before moving to the mahogany dresser against the far wall. Rummaging through the drawers, she found a short-sleeved navy T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants similar to the ones he was wearing. The pants were miles too big and too long, but better than nothing. She used a belt she found in the closet to keep them up, rolled the cuffs so she wouldn’t trip, and left the bedroom to do a little exploring.
The living room was sparsely furnished with little more than a dark leather sofa, a rectangular coffee table made of distressed oak, and a large bookcase filled with books, magazines, and a bronze statue of a tiger, all covered with dust. A state-of-the-art flat-screen TV hung over the fireplace. The fourth room was the kitchen. The cupboards were empty. There was no stove, only a small white refrigerator, also dusty. She stared at it, grimacing as she pictured the inside filled with bags of old blood.
Going back into the living room, she dropped down on the sofa, displacing little puffs of dust. She needed something to eat. Unfortunately, she had no cell phone with which to order anything and no money to pay for it anyway. And no idea where she was. For all she knew, she could be in the middle of Timbuktu. She regarded the TV for a moment. Gideon had been away for three years. What were the odds that the electricity was still on? Only one way to find out. Taking the remote from the coffee table, she hit the on switch, pleased to discover that the TV had power and the batteries in the remote weren’t dead. She was relieved to see a familiar news program. At
He stayed in the shower a good forty minutes, washing his hair and scrubbing away the stink of captivity.
When he returned to the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, the wolf was still out of it. He figured she would likely sleep through the night after all they’d been through.
Moving to the dresser, he pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, then stretched out on the bed beside the wolf. He needed to feed but it didn’t seem wise to leave her here, alone, on the off chance she might wake up. For a moment, he contemplated taking a few sips of her blood, but the thought of getting a mouthful of fur quickly soured him on that idea.
Turning onto his side, he stroked her head. Her fur was soft and warm. Touching her was soothing somehow. Closing his eyes, he slipped into oblivion, clean and at peace for the first time in years.
Kay woke with a start, surprised to find herself lying naked in a strange bed with Gideon, in a room she didn’t recognize. How had they gotten here? And where was here? The last thing she remembered was a searing pain in her flank. When she touched her leg, there was no wound, but that didn’t surprise her. Most injuries healed overnight, although in her case, serious injuries sometimes took a little longer, since she was only half werewolf.
She wrinkled her nose. The room smelled musty, as if no one had lived in it for a very long time. Of course, if this was Gideon’s home, it had been unoccupied for at least three years, which would account for the smell, and the thick layer of dust on the nightstand.
Sitting up, she glanced around, wondering if there was anything to eat in the place. Considering who lived here, she doubted it. And even if there happened to be a stray loaf of bread or a package of lunch meat lying around, after sitting on a shelf for three years, it certainly wouldn’t be edible.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she went into the bathroom and closed the door.
It had only been a few days since she had showered, but it seemed longer. She washed her body twice and her hair three times before she felt clean.
Wrapped in a towel, she returned to the bedroom. A glance at Gideon showed he was still sleeping soundly. She bit down on her lower lip for a moment before moving to the mahogany dresser against the far wall. Rummaging through the drawers, she found a short-sleeved navy T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants similar to the ones he was wearing. The pants were miles too big and too long, but better than nothing. She used a belt she found in the closet to keep them up, rolled the cuffs so she wouldn’t trip, and left the bedroom to do a little exploring.
The living room was sparsely furnished with little more than a dark leather sofa, a rectangular coffee table made of distressed oak, and a large bookcase filled with books, magazines, and a bronze statue of a tiger, all covered with dust. A state-of-the-art flat-screen TV hung over the fireplace. The fourth room was the kitchen. The cupboards were empty. There was no stove, only a small white refrigerator, also dusty. She stared at it, grimacing as she pictured the inside filled with bags of old blood.
Going back into the living room, she dropped down on the sofa, displacing little puffs of dust. She needed something to eat. Unfortunately, she had no cell phone with which to order anything and no money to pay for it anyway. And no idea where she was. For all she knew, she could be in the middle of Timbuktu. She regarded the TV for a moment. Gideon had been away for three years. What were the odds that the electricity was still on? Only one way to find out. Taking the remote from the coffee table, she hit the on switch, pleased to discover that the TV had power and the batteries in the remote weren’t dead. She was relieved to see a familiar news program. At
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