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Once he’d assured himself that the head was completely severed and his opponent was dead dead, blondie slowly rose up from his crouch before turning to look at her.
Tabby waited to see what he was going to do. Last time, he didn’t even stick around long enough to say hi. Sure, he killed the bald Nightwalker, but was it because he wanted to feed on her himself? But then why did he tell her to run?
Tabby had no idea. Know what? She didn’t like the whole not knowing. Add that to the way he caught her attention—twice now—plus just how damn sexy he was on the heels of his kill, and she made a snap decision.
Her uncle would kill her if he knew what she was thinking about doing. Not the whole damsel in distress ploy—he was the one who told her to play to her strengths when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to get any bigger—but purposely luring a Nightwalker close with the intent of talking to him instead of, well, decapitating him. She knew better than to go against the code.
We are tasked with the hunt, for none but the slayer is trained to eliminate the evil that stalks through the night—and eliminate we must.
Her family line put it even simpler: See a threat. End a threat.
Too bad that wasn’t going to change her mind.
It had been so long since something—or someone—had made her curious. And this hero vamp… she was definitely intrigued by him. Not to mention it did seem a bit coincidental that both times she was entrapping a Nightwalker in Grayson, he came along to save the day.
And Grayson had a wannabe slayer who was leaving piles of ashed out corpses behind.
Sometimes, Tabby mused, purposely pulling a gee willikers kind of expression, when you put two and two together you got four.
And sometimes you got blondie here.
Vamps were so predictable; at least, they were supposed to be. After being a slayer for so long, she could usually guess their moves before they even started to make them.
Not this guy. He was… different.
She didn’t know why she thought so. What about him snagged her attention. Why she waited to see what he was going to do instead of just adding him to tonight’s tally.
&nbs
p; But she did.
Clearing his throat, he reached for her, drawing back before he got too close. He balled his hand into a fist, moving his head slightly as he ran his gaze over her, taking her in. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a pervy look, but one of concern.
When he spoke again, his voice was richer than it was when he snapped at her. Deep, too. “Are you okay?”
“I… I think so.” Just in case he wasn’t buying her shaken-up act, she threw in a little quiver. “He was going to bite me, wasn’t he?”
Blondie hesitated. “He might have. You’re bleeding pretty badly.”
No shit. She had used Venice to cut a three-inch slice along her forearm to bleed freely enough to draw a rogue vamp her way. Usually, she’d slap on a magic-aid to heal it up real quick as soon as her hunt was done and over with. With the blond Nightwalker watching her so closely, she couldn’t do that. Not unless she wanted to blow up her spot.
And since he didn't seem to recognize that she was a slayer…
“Oh, this?” She covered the slice with her hand. “I don’t even know how I got it.” She purposely giggled, going for nervous and ditzy at the same time. It usually worked on the rare times she nearly got caught on a hunt. “I’m such a clumsy mess. I always seem to be getting cut up.”
“I… I see.” He gulped. “Then it’s a good thing I came along.”
“Guess so.”
He didn’t even glance toward her wound. Either this guy had ironclad self-control, or maybe… just maybe… he wasn’t a Nightwalker after all.
To Tabby, that made more sense than he was a Nightwalker wielding a slayer’s weapon who went after his own.
While keeping up the doe-eyed, hopeless female routine, she checked him out. Could it be possible?
Only one way to find out.
As a slayer, she wasn’t born with the enhanced abilities that so many Paras had. She had to rely on her God-given talents and a lifetime of training overlooked by the strictest taskmaster to ever head the Society of Slayers.
