Page 2 of Hot for Slayer
“Beautiful? Aww, Lazlo, I didn’t know you had a crush on—Motherfucker.” He jockeyed the blade back and forth in my belly, which,ouch. On the plus side, it gave me the opportunity to jerk in his arms and fake a seizure-likemovement, which I used to retrieve my own dagger from my hip.
Which I then plunged into his flank with relish.
The grunt that rose to his chest was like a whole symphonic orchestra to my ears. “Now we’re even,” I gritted out.
“Are we?” Lazlo’s expression did not give me the satisfaction of changing a single millimeter. Slayers, too, were unlikely to make a big fuss over some light stabbing. “What about when the sun rises? I have you pinned.”
I scoffed, ignoring the dribble of blood trickling out of the corner of my mouth. “Dawn is in six hours. I hope you have some fun ideas for how to pass the time.”
His lips twitched. “We could reminisce. Thankfully, we share many memories.”
“Thankfully. Like that time you tried to kill me in Constantinople. Or the time you tried to kill me in Lampang. Or the time you tried to kill me in a courtyard in Venice. Or the time in Saskatoon, where—and you may start to notice a pattern—youalsotried to—”
“Hush, Aethelthryth.” His tone was harsh, even through the warmth of his small smile. He was bleeding profusely, and the scent of it wafted up, strong, metallic,divine. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I wondered how I could feel such hunger while my internal organs were being minced into meat loaf.
How the hell did a slayer’s blood get to smell thisgood? “You’re going to have to knock me out if you want me to shut up until sunrise.”
“And deprive myself of your company?” He clicked his tongue. “Never.”
“Really? Well, allow me to point out that if you get your way, you’re going to be deprived of my company for a hell of a lot longer than—”
“Excuse me, you two?”
We turned, startled—both by the British-sounding voice addressing us and by the fact that, in the process, my forehead brushed against Lazlo’s lips, a gesture too similar to a kiss for comfort.
A shiver ran down my spine.
“We are with the BBC, and overheard you speaking English—would it be possible to interview you about your perspective on tonight’s events?”
Lazlo and I stared at the journalists idling in the dimly lit side street, speechless.
“Sir? Ma’am? You do speak English, right?”
Behind him, a woman was carrying a handheld camera, and an idea light-bulbed its way into my brain.
“We sure do,” I said with a dazzling grin. I freed my hand from where it was trapped between my and Lazlo’s torsos, wiped the blood off my mouth, then gently pushed against his shoulder. “Baby, will you get off me for a second?” I schooled my features into a pout, enjoying his clenching jawimmensely. “I wanna talk with the BBC. I wanna be on TV.”
“That’s great, ma’am. Will you move to that corner with us? The lighting is much better over there.”
One fun thing about the slayers was they had a governing body. And rumor had it that the Hällsing Guild didn’t love public displays of murder, especially not those caught on camera. Humans, after all, were fragile little souls—I had the right to say that, because I used to be one—and they couldn’t be trusted with finding out that vampires and slayers walked among them. Their reaction would have likely involved running to the grocery store, buying all the canned goods andtoilet paper, and then never leaving the house again—they’d cause way too much of a fuss and disrupt the supply chain.
No, thank you.
So, starting with the twentieth century, the Guild had cracked down on slayers killing us in front of witnesses. And by doing so, they saved my life.
“Come on, baby,” I said sweetly, my eyes meeting the cut glass of Lazlo’s. “We can make out later, no?”
Lazlo’syeswas a deliciously disgruntled growl. I tried not to wince as he angled our bodies to hide the slide of his dagger out of my abdomen. I did the same with my knife and then glanced down to make sure that the blood wasn’t visible against the dark fabric of my shirt.
Meanwhile, the camera kept filming.
“I know you hate being in the spotlight,honey pie. Why don’t you wait here while I do my interview?” Lazlo’s shirt was lighter than mine, and what a poor choice of attire for a hunt. He was in no position to follow us to a place with better illumination, and he knew it.
“Until the next time, then,” he said with a deep frown.
“Right. That might be a while. Sorry!”
“As long as you don’t let anyone get to you before I do, Aethelthryth.”
