Page 9 of Hot for Slayer
“So, please, join me in welcoming the love of my life.”
The chatter became louder.
“Lazlo, thank you for being here.”
I grinned at him. People followed the direction of my gaze, brazenly eyeing him. I watched his lips part and his expression flatten—Lazlo’s equivalent of a jaw drop. The hand holding his drink set the glass on the table with a loud thud.
“Hi, honey,” I purred.
The technician in the back must have been less stoned than usual, because lo and behold, a spotlight turned on, flooding Lazlo’s table and the tight purse of his lips.
I bit back maniacal laughter. If the slayer forced the sunrise upon me because of this, it would have been worth it.
“You are the only man for me, baby,” I whispered into the microphone.
A giddyawwwdiffused throughout the room. Lazlo’s eyes were sharper than needles, but no one could pick that up. They would, however, have noticed if he’d chosen to stick a couple of swords through my chest. He had to restrain himself, and wasn’t that fun?
“I hope you loved the song.”
At last, he smiled. I could have sworn I spotted an amused dimple dipping within his cheek, but he mouthed a few words at me.
I am going to kill you.
I gasped. “What was that? Lazlo, did you just say that you’re going tomarryme?”
He only nodded because about sixty people were staring at him. The same reason I let out my most lovesick sigh. When his eyes burned into mine, I let them. “Lazlo, yes. Yes. A thousand timesyes.”
The cheers were so loud, no one heard the thud of my heels as I ran backstage. And since I slipped out the bathroom window and vanished into the poorly lit alleyway, he never did catch up with me to do all that killing he’d promised. But now, watching Lazlo sleep like a baby, I cannot help wondering why I didn’t once think of that night in the past sixty years.
And, oddly enough, I cannot help wondering if he ever did.
Chapter 5
I’d like you to walk me to the hospital,” Lazlo says at sundown as we step outside and into the chilly October Manhattan air. He glances around with a very convincingI am but a tourist, new on this planetexpression, his face tilted up in wonder toward the skyscrapers. Exhibit number 237 of authentic amnesia.
My first instinct is to agree.Eagerly.I let myself contemplate the bliss of dropping him off at the ER, where he’ll become someone else’s problem. But given Lazlo’s not-quite-human biology, being examined by a doctor could get him in serious trouble. I want to get rid of him, and I’m ready to murder him in a me-or-him situation, but I wouldn’t wish being stuck in some underground lab and experimented upon on my worst enemy.
Which, coincidentally, is what Lazlo is.
“Are you sure you want to go?” I ask. “You may not have insurance, and hospitals are very expensive. Your memory will probably come back on its own now. But I’ll still help you out. I could just take you to your home and—”
“Where do I live?”
Shit.“That, I’m not sure.”
He stops in his tracks, right in the middle of a busy sidewalk, forcing the people behind us to sidestep him. If hewere anyone else, New Yorkers would be pushing him into traffic. But Lazlo is tall; covered in striking, unique tattoos; built like a small skyscraper himself. He doesn’t exactly ooze agreeability. The most they level at him is a side-eye.
Meanwhile, he is oglingmelike I should feel guilty for not knowing where his house is.
“Honestly, I’m not even certain you have a place in the city,” I say defiantly. “Told you—nemeses.”
“Sure. What about my work?”
“The Guild?”
“Is that what the pest control company is called?”
“Yup.No Pest for the Guildedis your slogan.” I nod. Surely it’ll make the weirdness I just spewedmuchmore convincing. “As far as I know, they don’t have a physical HQ.” Which is true enough.
