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And I wanted to get even closer.
My throat cinched with a confused mixture of arousal and fear. I waited for him to regain his footing, then released him like he was a hot grenade.
I made my tone hard, a knee-jerk response to the confusion he stirred in me. “Don’t make me regret it.”
He grunted and stumbled toward the partition that concealed the toilet and sink. “I need to take a leak.”
I nodded and hunkered down next to the door so he wouldn’t get any ideas about opening it and escaping in the shadow dimension.
When he reemerged, he’d cleaned the blood from his throat and wrists. He sat down against the opposite wall. He bent his knees and set his arms on his thighs so his wrists didn’t touch anything.
I waited for him to lie down, but he didn’t.
I understood. If I were Zaq Kral, I wouldn’t want to do anything as vulnerable as lie down around me, either.
He leaned his head against the wall. His lids shut and his breathing slowed.
To distract myself from his nearness and these confusing feelings I was having for him, I flipped my switchblade from hand to hand, sending it spinning into the air and catching it again. Normally, I enjoyed the challenge of trying to catch it by the handle without cutting my hand on the silver blade. But today, I couldn’t concentrate. I stopped before I hurt myself.
I thought Zaq had fallen asleep when his eyes opened. They gleamed green in the dim light.
“You’re a slayer, aren’t you?”
I stiffened. “Go to sleep.”
He ignored me. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re different from the others in the lair. You do your own thing, and I can tell you’re not part of their hierarchy. Hell, you’re not even French. And you’re wicked good with those switchblades.”
I moved a shoulder.
“I don’t hear a no.” His smile was grim. “So you are a slayer.”
“Go to sleep,” I repeated.
“What I want to know is why the fuck you’re a part of this? You slayers are supposed to take out the bad vampires, the insane ones or the ones who are just plain evil. Why mess with me? I’m not even a major player in my father’s syndicate.”
Doubt flickered through me. I rubbed a thumb over my blade’s worn steel handle.
There it was, the question that had been niggling at me ever since I’d seen how bad they were treating Zaq.
Why were we messing with Zaq Kral? Yeah, he was bait, which was bad enough. But the plan was to take out not just his father, but Zaq and his two brothers as well.
It was like SI had been coopted by Victorine Tremblay as a sneaky way to break the treaty she’d signed with the Krals.
“Answer me.” Zaq’s voice was low but insistent. The voice of a man used to being obeyed. “This isn’t a job for Slayers, Inc. That blond vampire—Étan? He’s the Tremblay Syndicate lieutenant. This is revenge, pure and simple. His prima wants my family dead.”
He was right. Victorine Tremblay hated Karoly Kral, and she probably did want his sons dead.
The flicker of doubt burned brighter. I ruthlessly smothered it. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
He didn’t let up. “You don’t know what this is about, do you? They give you an order, and you carry it out.”
I clamped my fingers around the switchblade handle. If he thought I was ashamed of what I did, he could think again.
“That’s right. Because as far as I’m concerned, take you out, and there’s one less monster in the world.”
“Monster?” His chin jerked back like I’d struck him. “That’s what you think I am?”
“You tell me. You drink blood. You’re a member of a syndicate that preys on humans. What does that make you?”
