Page 10 of Slayer

The scratches were gone.

The skin on his cheek was smooth, unbroken, like I had never clawed at him at all. No scar. No torn flesh. Nothing.

“Basic stitch mender rune.” He made it sound like I should know that.

Rune. That word… It was written in my file. The thought sent a chill racing through me. I rubbed my arms, trying to ground myself, but the room felt like it was tilting. I felt lost, hollowed out, sick to my stomach as panic rose sharp and fast.

I should leave. I should run out that door and call the cops on this guy for kidnapping me and never look back.

He stepped closer to me, and I flinched, but he cast me an annoyed look. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve been trying to save your life.” He growled, stomping to the sink at the back wall of the room and scrubbing his face. He used a bar of soap to get every last drop of blood off his face and hands. When he was done, he ripped off his shirt and shoved it into a plastic bag, tying it off tightly. He stood now in a tight white tank top, and the muscles were definitely muscling.

My gaze betrayed me, tracking the movement of his shoulders, the way his arms flexed as he worked. It was absurd to notice. Absurd and deeply inconvenient how good looking he was.

Stockholm syndrome was surprisingly pleasant.

“Wash your neck,” he barked to me, “and take off your shirt. You can wear mine.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Take off my shirt?” I eyed the door.

Asher rolled his eyes. “You need to wash all the blood off where the vampire bit you. We have to move. The bloodsuckers will be here any minute. I’m sure they’re tracking our scent.”

The words hit like a starting gun. Fear snapped clean through me, sharp and electric, as adrenaline flooded my veins. I flew off the bed and crossed the room in seconds, palms slapping against the sink as I leaned over it.

I began to furiously scrub at my neck with the soap.

“The neck biters are coming back?” I confirmed. “Did you buy the drugs from them? I have money. I can⁠—”

“Vampires. They’re vampires. I don’t do drugs, and you’re a hunter. I don’t have time for your emotional breakdown right now, so I need you to get on board,” he told me while he pulled off his white tank top and dragged out a hoodie from his backpack, slipping it on. “As much as I want to just leave you here, you’re clearly a lost-born, and it’s against the codex to leave you behind.”

My hands slowed as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, breath shallow, pulse roaring in my ears. Two pinprick marks stared back at me from my neck, dark and precise.

What the hell? They weren’t like human teeth marks I would expect from a bite that drew blood.

“Vampires?” I asked, playing into his delusion.

“Yes.”

“Well, it bit me. So that means I’ll…become one?” I stared at his reflection in the mirror, and he chuckled.

“A two-second bite from a drinker? No way. Only sires can change you, and you better hope you never meet one, because they love changing hunters.”

The words sent ice crawling up my arms. My stomach dropped, something ancient and instinctive recoiling at the thought. I opened my mouth to ask another question when he cut me off.

“Scrub your nails. I don’t need you wafting my blood all down the street.”

My fingers curled into the porcelain edge of the sink.

I swallowed hard. Wash off the DNA evidence that showed he was my kidnapper? No way.

He saw me falter and reached up to rub his temples. “This woman.” He mumbled to the room. “Fine, you’re on your own. Here.” He pulled out a steel stake and rolled it across the ground until it stopped when it hit my boot. “Right in the heart and you might survive the night. Good luck.”

The metal clink echoed too loudly in the small room.

He had turned to leave when my eyes fell to the stake.

More runes.

Ones from my baby photo.