Page 64 of The Slayer Seduction

A tear falls down her aging cheek, but she gives us a nod, grabbing a pen and paper, her hand shaking as she writes out three family names. She folds the card and takes a deep breath.

“Is the Slayer listening?” she asks, not handing over the card just yet.

“Yes,” Adam says easily, in his own tone of voice, it’s easy to tell which one of them is in charge of the body by that alone, plus their personalities are very different.

She grabs Adam’s wrist, making him lean forward so she can whisper something in his ear, keeping me completely in the dark. In the process, she hands him the note with the family names and looks at us with sad eyes.

I realize that this woman thinks we’re as good as dead.

She’s ready for us to go. She’s told us all that she knows, except one thing.

“Do you know who gave your family the spell book in the beginning?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.

“No, it dates beyond any family record keeping.”

I squeeze Adam’s hand one last time before we scoot out of the booth and leave the RV. His grandmother gives us a forced smile, and it’s then I realize after all that emotional tension, I have to get back on that damn motorcycle.

“Come on, I’ll take you to one of my favorite places,” he says, helping me strap on the helmet. I hold on to him for dear life, even though deep down I know he’ll keep us safe. It’s also nice to be able to give comfort to each other through touch.

The whole ride I think about his grandmother’s story and the list of names that feels like it weighs a million pounds in Adam’s pocket.

Can I really do this? Be a part of murder? The theft and figuring out the destruction of the spell books are totally fine, but I think I need reassurance that the “vessels” of the opposing vampire slayers would actually be better off dead.

I’m too busy musing about what we need to do that I don’t even really pay attention to where Adam is going. I’m also not as fearful sitting on the back of the bike.

He pulls up and easily parks in front of this hole-in-the-wall shop. It’s a relief to take the helmet off and be back on solid ground, but it’s weird not holding on to him anymore. I slept so soundly last night, even with everything going on and I know without a doubt this is all a part of the mate bond, but what if it was something else too?

Adam holds open the door of the shop for me and as soon as we enter, an older man gives Adam a wide smile. The man is missing a few teeth, his skin weathered from years in the Louisiana sun, but there’s something about him that feels safe.

“I thought you’d gone and found another spot. Usual?” he asks, and Adam gives him a nod.

“What would you like?” Adam asks, and I approach the counter and look over the laminated menu. I go with the special shrimp po boy they offer.

Adam grabs us both some root beers and we take a small, weathered booth by the window. He tears apart his straw wrapper and I clear my throat.

“Are you going to tell me what she said to you?” I ask.

Adam sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“She said not to trust you,” he says, and I can’t help it when I reel back from his words, crossing my hands over my chest. Adam shakes his head, giving me a smirk. It’s different from when the Slayer smirks and I hate that I can’t decide which one does it better. “I think she knew you were a witch, but if there’s anyone I trust right now, it’s you.”

I relax slightly, placing my hands on the table, and Adam immediately grabs them and squeezes.

“I mean it. I know you have your coven, and Scarlett too. The Slayer is obsessed with you and everything, but you’re all I got.”

With a thick swallow, I give his hand a squeeze right back. “We’re in this together,” I tell him softly.

He goes to say something else, but the shop owner brings our food out. I smile when I realize that Adam’s usual is exactly what I ordered.

“Alright, so, are we going to go over the list?” I ask Adam.

I’m not sure how much longer the Slayer intends to let him have control; honestly, I’m shocked that he’s still tucked away. It’s unsettling, but what’s even worse is I don’t know why it makes me so uncomfortable. Do I miss the Slayer?

Fuck…I do, don’t I?

Adam pulls out the list, flattening the paper on the table as we read the three names. Even glancing at the names, it’s easy to tell that they are a bunch of rich pricks.

James Maxwell III