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“Hey. Where are you going? Leaving so soon?”
“It was a long night. Now that I know you’re alright…” He attempted a yawn, going for casual, accepting that he probably failed miserably. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
A part of Adam wanted Tabby to ask him to stay. To tell him that she didn’t want him to leave her.
She didn’t.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” A slight nod, like she couldn’t be bothered one way or another. Until she added quickly, “But, before you go—”
He cocked his head. “Yeah?”
“I mentioned it to Shea before she left to get you, but she said to wait until you came up.” Tabby paused for a moment, narrowing her gaze on Adam. “Before I got hit, I saw you facing off with a Nightwalker. You looked like you were gunning for him. I’ve seen you hunt before. That was… different.”
He felt his back go straight. “Is there a question in there somewhere?”
“That was him, wasn’t it? The Nightwalker who turned you. The one you’ve been hunting these last few months.”
For a heartbeat, Adam regretted opening up to her about that. When she was just a slayer that did a number on his libido, he asked her what she was doing in Grayson; as its self-proclaimed protector, he needed to make sure she wouldn’t interfere with his own hunts. She admitted that the Society of Slayers sent her in town to track a murderous Nightwalker.
He assumed she meant the bald bastard Adam killed the night they met in the alleyway and let it drop. As far as he was concerned, if slayers hunted dangerous Paras, they were on the same side.
Of course, then Tabby—in that innocent way she had—asked him what he was doing. And while it was obvious that he ran around rescuing pretty girls from nasty ol’ Nightwalkers, he found himself confessing his true goal. Not because he wanted her to go after Rafe Silverson for him, but because he needed her to understand that, while he was currently stuck being a Nightwalker, he didn’t want to be one. At the time, he didn’t know about the elixir. He didn’t know there was a chance to reverse the turning. He just wanted his revenge.
And he could have it, too. The Claws Clause made it crystal clear. As the victim of Rafe’s crime, Adam had the right to kill Rafe when he finally caught up to him.
A life for a life.
Rafe tore out Adam’s throat. He’d eventually repay the favor by lopping off his head.
But he didn’t. The first sighting he had of Rafe in more than six months, and Adam let him go because he was afraid to leave Tabby’s side.
“Adam. Tell me. Was that him?”
He couldn’t lie to her. Well, he could—he wasn’t one of the Dayborn race of vampires—but one look in her knowing gaze, and Adam knew he’d forever tell this woman the truth.
“Yes.”
Tabby bit down on her bottom lip, frowning, almost as if trying to understand what that simple answer meant.
“I… wait. You told me that, except for being human again, all you wanted was to take out the vamp responsible for turning you.” Her brow furrowed. “I was watching you fight him. You were playing with him, drawing it out. You could’ve taken him. Why didn’t you?”
“Something happened.”
“What?”
He didn’t say anything.
He should’ve known better by then. He should’ve known that Tabby wasn’t going to drop it.
“What happened? The only thing I remember was that bitch hitting me with her magic. Did something happen when I went down? Did the vamp get away?”
“You could say that.”
Tabby struggled to sit up. Adam felt his heart leap into his throat, anxiety pulsing inside of him as she moved weakly, gasping under her breath before she was halfway upright.
“Stop moving,” he snapped, his nerves getting the better of him. “You need to rest.”
“I’m fine,” she lied, brushing it off. “I’ve been hurt way worse than this and that’s without a healing. Now stop stalling. Why did you let him get away? Because I think I got a handle on you by now, champ. I’ve seen you hunt the rogue vamps. If that Rafe pranced away with his head intact, it’s only because you let him.”
