Page 70 of The Slayer Seduction

The Slayer looks beyond excited as he smiles, cupping my cheek and leaning down to press his lips against mine. My whole body shivers when he does. How for a second did I delude myself into thinking that this wasn’t true fate?

There’s no running away from your mate, and yeah, there’s a lot we still need to work through and a whole slew of dangerous shit hanging over our heads. But one thing for certain: I want him. I want them both—as they are—whatever that looks like.

We part from the kiss, and when I stare into his voided eyes that once felt ominous, I can’t help but to see the softness and longing that lies underneath this facade.

“I’ll be right back,” I say and he rubs my cheek one last time as I crouch on my hands and knees and start crawling through the tunnel.

There’s no way the Slayer would have been able to fit in here. In fact, I think I’ll need to crawl backwards to get out. I cough a few times. It’s musty and dark in the small space.

The glow of the spell book is my guiding light as I keep pressing forward. There’s a deep sense of unease in this place, especially as a few pieces of the wall scratch my elbows and knees, but I don’t let it deter me.

I don’t know what a future looks like with potentially two partners who share a body, one of which has a penchant for blood lust, but for the first time I kind of want to find out. So that means I’m getting these fucking books, destroying them, and doing everything in my power to make my life as normal as I possibly can.

I’m only a few feet away when a cold chill licks up my ankles and my vision goes hazy, clouded with another vision in itself.

The air is cold, almost paralyzing, as my hand trembles before me. Blood coats my skin as I grip a bloody stake.

I want to look around in the vision for more context, but just as quickly as it comes, it goes. My heart thuds in my chest and my need to get the fuck out of here is dire. With shaky hands, I grab the book. Nothing happens, thankfully, as I shuffle backwards toward the exit.

As I get closer to the cell I hear the Slayer shout. “She isn’t here.”

I pause, not moving in the tight tunnel. It feels like the walls are closing in on me and I’m doing my very best to keep steady, even paced, breaths.

“Don’t play stupid with me, brother. You think I don’t have cameras alerting me when someone steps into this cell? I knew it would be you.”

“It doesn’t need to be this way,” my Slayer responds.

I’m trying not to make a single noise, but muffling my tears and fear is becoming harder with every growing second.

“What’s your plan anyway, huh? Kill me, and what, share my mate?”

“Fuck no. I’ll kill the others. Neither of them have an heir old enough. It would be years before they would come back for another cycle.”

“She isn’t your mate,” the Slayer says vehemently.

“She could be.”

“No. She’s not. I’m sorry that you and our fellow brothers didn’t make the same deal, but Iris is mine.”

“Iris,” the other man says with a disgusting interest that has me trembling. “She will be mine in every lifetime. I will bring her to the void with me.”

What. The. Fuck?

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, I hear a cacophony of fighting noises. I can’t see anything with my back to the dark entrance and he told him I wasn’t here. I don’t know who’s winning and I’m on edge and the space is so tight I can’t even grab my wand to portal. The only thing I’m holding on to is the spell book.

For a moment there’s a brief pause in fighting and I hope with every fiber of my being that the Slayer is alright.

I want to call out for him, but I keep quiet, waiting for him to tell me it’s safe.

A hand grips around my ankle and roughly pulls. I scream, trying to find purchase in the tunnel. The Slayer would never be this rough with me. I hold on to the book, pulling it along with me.

“There you are,” a deep voice that sends terror down my spine says.

He pulls me roughly out of the tunnel, my knees and elbows scraping on the poorly dug out attempted escape path. There’s nothing I can do before I’m ripped completely out of the spot. I keep the book with me, knowing he can’t touch it.

I land on my ass and wince as the man glooms down at me. Andrew Aaron Van Staden stands before me, and he just doesn’t look right. Whereas the Slayer has a gentle gleam in his eye, this man is the opposite, he looks crazed. He’s a hulking man, with a darker complexion with yellow undertones, tattoos cover his arms and neck, leading all the way to his shaved skull. His brown eyes are wide and wild as he stares down at me like I’m an object rather than a person. It’s clear to me then that there’s no humanity left in him.

“Naughty, little mate, stealing my book,” he says, tsking me.