Slay My Love Page 3

  Gianni nodded, still staring at him through half-lidded eyes.

  It was distracting. Franklin avoided his gaze. He needed something he could report back to Darrow. Something besides the vampire is flirting with me. And he needed to get them off this line of questioning.

  “Your ex is stalking you? Is she powerful? Are you in danger?”

  “He,” Gianni corrected. Franklin supposed he knew that, but the she had slid off his tongue anyway. “One could argue a vampire hanging out with a vampire slayer is on the dangerous side, but no, I’m not in danger. He can’t hurt me. We do have laws, Buffy.”

  “People break laws.”

  “They do. Still, he doesn’t want to hurt me…well, not physically, not much.”

  “Not much?”

  “Let’s not talk about this.” Gianni reached out again. This time Franklin let him approach. Gianni grazed his fingertips over Franklin’s elbow. A casual touch, but Franklin felt it to his core, electric. “What about you. How’ve you been?”

  Frustrated. Annoyed. Worried. “Fine.”

  “That’s it, fine?”

  “Maybe a little bored. No one snipes at me when you’re not around. Where did you go?”

  “Nowhere, just lying low. I can’t be your only entertainment, Buffy. You need a hobby. One that doesn’t involve killing. How about knitting? You could make me a sweater.”

  Franklin laughed. “I doubt you’d wear any sweater I was capable of making.”

  Gianni scrunched his nose.

  Franklin tried to ignore how cute it was.

  “You’re probably right. A scarf, then? That should be simple enough.” Gianni was looking past Franklin’s shoulder. His eyes grew wide with alarm, and panic overtook the soft, teasing expression. “Shit. You have to go, Buffy, now!”

  “What? Why?” Franklin turned to see a man approaching in the distance. Too far away to tell if he was human or vampire, but Gianni’s reaction indicated the latter.

  Gianni’s hands were on his shoulders, pushing him away. “I’ll explain later, I promise. Don’t try and watch either—he’ll know. He’ll kill you. Go! Meet me at the library tomorrow.”

  Panic didn’t suit Gianni, and Franklin didn’t like seeing it harden his soft features. “Will you be okay?”

  “For fuck’s sake, yes. Now go!” Gianni physically shoved him. Franklin reluctantly went with it, jogging away, still confused.

  Looking for a place in the shadows where he could hide and eavesdrop was tempting, but something in Gianni’s reaction warned him off. Was this the ex-boyfriend arriving? Was he an elder or particularly powerful somehow? Against every fiber in his being, Franklin trusted Gianni and hurried back to the safety of the Foundry, hoping Gianni was right when he said he’d be okay. These sudden protective feelings were unsettling. He brushed them aside. He’d meet Gianni at the library tomorrow and ask about it then. For now, he would do his best not to worry over a vampire.

  Gianni

  Relieved to see the slayer leave, Gianni turned his attention to the approaching asshole. The last thing he needed was Oswald seeing him casually chatting up a slayer.

  Damn Oswald. He’d been having a nice time with Buffy. As the sovereign approached with a haughty swagger, Gianni had to admit Oswald filled out the blue pinstripe suit nicely, complementing his black hair hanging loose around his shoulders. Good looks wouldn’t stop Gianni from hating him.

  Oswald invaded Gianni’s space, forcing him to either hold his ground and be uncomfortably close or to back up. Gianni backed up.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  Gianni had been avoiding everyone. “No shit. How could you tell?”

  Oswald made a clicking sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t be rude. It doesn’t suit you. You look nice.” The words were said with a leer Gianni didn’t care for. They’d sounded better coming from the slayer, more genuine.

  “What are you doing here? You chased off my dinner.”

  “You chased off your dinner rather than share him with me. But not to worry. I’ll take you hunting.” Oswald crept forward.

  Gianni took another step back. “You need to go.”

  “Come with me.” Oswald reached for him.

  Gianni slapped his hand aside. “No fucking way.”

  “Fucking would be nice right now. How about it? I know you miss this cock.” Oswald gave himself a squeeze. Gianni should have expected this. The asshole couldn’t handle being told no.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To bring you home. There’s nothing for you but me. The sooner you realize it, the easier it will be for you.”

  “I’m done with you. The sooner you realize, the easier it will be for you.”

  Quick as lightning and far meaner, Oswald grabbed a handful of Gianni’s curls and twisted, wrenching his neck sideways. Gianni yelped and struggled but couldn’t free himself. Oswald shook him, and Gianni’s brain rattled in his skull. His hands grasped at Oswald’s, trying in vain to free himself.

  Oswald drew him close, cool breath ghosting over his ear. “Be still. I’ve had enough of your lip. You’re mine until I say otherwise.” Oswald’s teeth sunk into the flesh at Gianni’s neck without warning. Gianni opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would come. The bite was vicious and brutally cruel, tearing his skin and bruising his muscles. Trembling, Gianni pushed against Oswald’s chest to no avail. Pain bright and bursting blotted out his senses; Gianni closed his eyes and saw only red.

  When the brute had taken all he wanted, he released Gianni with a shove, sending him sprawling. Gianni pressed his hand against the wound, holding it tight, but blood continued to flow freely.

  Oswald slipped a gold handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his mouth. He peered down at Gianni. “Oh, that looks bad, my dear. Would you like some help?” A sardonic grin revealed fangs still covered in Gianni’s blood.

  Gianni had to get Oswald to close the wound; it would not heal on its own, and he could bleed out from a bite of this magnitude. He didn’t have the healing powers of other vampires, not yet. He hadn’t thought Oswald would really hurt him. Surely the sovereign wouldn’t risk letting him die. That was a capital offense.

  “Just close it and get this over with,” Gianni spat, staring at the ground.

  “Say please.”

  “I could report this.”

  “But you won’t. Say please, Gianni, or you’ll regret it.”

  Gianni’s head spun. His new shirt was soaked in his own blood. His vision blurred, so he closed his eyes. He could die here, let himself sink to the pavement, forget his troubles, wade into the waters of the other side.

  Gianni thought of Franklin. Will you be okay? he’d asked, worried about Gianni’s safety. If he had the energy, he’d laugh. Maybe Oswald would kill him after all. Maybe that would be fine.

  Or he could say please.

  Fuck it.

  Gianni opened his eyes and stared at his tormentor, defeated. “Please,” he whispered.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Oswald scooped him up into impossibly strong arms, and his mouth returned to the wound—gentle this time, licking the torn flesh closed. Soft kisses dropped along the column of Gianni’s throat. Loathsome. Gianni used his remaining strength to flinch from the vulgar touch, moist and sticky like syrup.

  “See, that wasn’t so hard. Stubborn thing. Here…”

  He pushed Gianni’s face into his neck, offering himself. Gianni desperately wanted to resist renewing their bond, but it was hopeless. Oswald had drained him, and he needed the stronger vampire’s blood to live.

  He opened his mouth and bit down hard.

  4

  The Library

  Gianni

  Gianni, still dazed, found himself in Oswald’s arms being carried back to the Farthing and put to bed in his room. Clenching his eyes shut, Gianni tried to pull the covers over his face. Oswald’s hand stopped him. Then a cold kiss pressed against his lips. “There, there, sleep tight, pet.” Os
wald stroked a wayward curl behind his ear. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Gianni was too weak to respond, though Oswald never listened to what he said anyway. He left after that, thank god, and Gianni passed out.

  When he woke, he was alone, feeling like his sanctuary had been violated. The thought of Oswald in his rooms made his gut churn. Other vampires would have seen them. Together. Gianni in Oswald’s arms. They would hate him even more now. Jealousy did that to people. If they only knew.

  If he was going to slip out before the others woke, he needed to hurry. There was no time to pretty himself up for the slayer. Besides, his heart wasn’t in it. Gianni didn’t feel pretty; he felt used. He threw on dark jeans, track shoes, and a t-shirt. Would Buffy even recognize him?

  Pausing to look in the mirror was a mistake. Purple bruising spread across his neck, the bitemark still pink and irritated. Perfect. Makeup would never hide it, and the damage was too high on his throat for a jacket to cover. Gianni chose a black silk scarf from his collection, less ridiculous with this outfit than the others. Before hurrying out, he wrapped it around his neck.

  The slayer would have questions Gianni didn’t want to answer.

  Arriving at the library, he glanced around and didn’t see Buffy but knew he was there. It felt like those first few days: the sensation of being watched, a tingle down his spine. Rather than seek him out, Gianni pretended he hadn’t noticed and went inside. He’d already given too much away, arriving at this hour, too early for vampires to be out on the streets. No need to let the slayer know he could sense his presence.

  He returned the books from last week, chose new ones, and then settled into an armchair to read. Or more realistically, to stare at the same page until Buffy made an appearance. The slayer waited until after dark, which was telling. So Buffy didn’t want him to know he’d seen the vampire out before twilight. Gianni would do well to remember they weren’t playing for the same team.

  The slayer approached and cast a shadow in the way of Gianni’s light. “Um, hello.”

  “Hello.” Gianni indicated the seat across from him with a tip of his head, and the slayer sat down. “Took you long enough to find me.”

  “Sorry?”

  “It’s okay.” Gianni’s gaze swept the slayer from head to foot, not that anything had changed. Work pants, moss-colored shirt, patrol boots; all function over fashion. Gianni wondered what he’d look like in something tailored to his lean muscular form. He’d be dashing in a suit—or in nothing at all.

  “So are you all right?” the slayer whispered.

  Simple question, loaded answer, but Gianni only said, “Yes.”

  “Who was that guy last night?”

  “My ex. Oswald. Sovereign over Philly and inexplicably here in Bristol Springs.”

  “Sovereign? Your ex is a sovereign?” Buffy’s voice rose.

  “Shush. We’re in a library.” Gianni waved a hand. “Did you choose a book?”

  Buffy shook his head and gazed at the stacks of books surrounding them but made no motion to get up and peruse the collection. His eyes returned to Gianni.

  “Would you like me to choose one for you?”

  “No, thanks.” The slayer sat back, watching him.

  “This is a library, Buffy. People read at libraries.” Gianni dug in his bag, picked out a book, and handed it over. “You can’t make moon eyes at me all night.”

  “I don’t make moon eyes, whatever that is,” he complained but took the book. “Pride and Prejudice? I’ve always thought this book sounded stuffy.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You will do no such thing. Read it or choose something for yourself, but you can’t just sit there. It’s weird.”

  Dutifully, the slayer opened the book.

  Franklin

  It is a truth universally acknowledged…

  Franklin stared at the page. Were they really going to spend the whole night reading? Apparently so. When Franklin went into the family business, at no point did he picture himself seated at a library reading books opposite a vampire. A vampire with a library card.

  This wasn’t what the Scourge meant when they tasked him with finding out what was different about this vampire. He could see it now: Yeah, uh, Chief Darrow, the vampire enjoys romance novels and long walks in the park… No, that wouldn’t do. Now, information on a sovereign, however—that might be worth something, if he could get the vampire talking.

  The library closed at nine PM. Franklin watched Gianni load up his bag full of books and prepare to leave. He hadn’t exactly made much headway in Pride and Prejudice—too busy thinking—but if the vampire wanted him to read it, he would.

  “Can I keep this?”

  Surprise flashed across Gianni’s features. “Be sure to return it on time. I’ll not have you ruining my reputation at the library, Buffy.”

  “Of course.”

  They exited and strolled together toward the business district. The air was crisp and cool: summer giving way to autumn, Franklin’s favorite time of year. When Gianni hadn’t said anything in a while, Franklin realized starting the conversation was up to him.

  “You’re quiet this evening.”

  Gianni side-eyed him and kept walking. “We were at a library, Buffy.”

  “Yes, but even now.”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Nothing interesting.”

  An obtuse answer, even for Gianni. Franklin pushed. “Tell me what happened with that guy last night, your ex.”

  Gianni gave a dramatic sigh. Right as Franklin thought he wouldn’t answer, the vampire said, “He’s just an ex who thinks he owns me.” Gianni’s hand fiddled with the scarf around his neck. “Nothing happened.”

  Gianni’s tone was too serious. This vampire was never serious, always flirting and joking. Franklin stopped walking. “I don’t believe you. Nothing happened?”

  Gianni turned to face him. “So what if it did? You gonna slay him for me? A sovereign? I doubt it.” The vampire scowled, his pretty features scrunched into an ugly sneer. “Oswald would chop you into pieces and feed you to his cats.”

  “He could try. What did he do to you?”

  Gianni scoffed and rocked back on his heels.

  Before the vampire could stop him, Franklin grabbed the loose end of Gianni’s scarf and yanked. Gianni clenched his jaw and tried to cover his throat with his hand, spinning away quickly, but he wasn’t fast enough. Franklin saw the damage, pink and red like raw meat.

  “The fuck, Gianni? What the hell happened?”

  “You should see the other guy,” Gianni muttered, but Franklin would have none of it. He took the vampire by the shoulders and brought them face to face.

  “What did he do to you?”

  “I would think that much is obvious.” Gianni pressed his lips into a thin line and narrowed his gaze.

  “Did you let him do this?”

  “Don’t be stupid. Does this seem consensual?” Color rose in Gianni’s cheeks; his eyes watered. He dropped his hand, letting Franklin look his fill.

  It was bad. Franklin hadn’t seen anything like it. Typically, when he saw a vampire bite, it was on a donor, and the feeding vampire would have closed the wound to encourage healing. Vampire bites normally healed quickly; it had to do with specialized enzymes in their saliva. This bite was brutal—ragged—and had barely begun to close. Red around the edges, there were signs of infection. That should be impossible. Vampires didn’t get infections.

  Gianni’s gaze was distant. He looked ashamed. This wasn’t the sassy vampire Franklin was coming to know.

  In spite of all his training and everything he knew to be true about vampires, Franklin couldn’t stand seeing Gianni so pitiful. He took a risk and opened his arms. Gianni hesitated, but only for a moment. Then Franklin found his arms full of sniffling vampire. He didn’t know what to do next. He patted Gianni’s back awkwardly. “Hey now, it’s okay
.”

  “It’s really not.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Gianni took a deep breath against him. Franklin felt hands on his sides. This was dangerous. Gianni could kill him in an instant, but instead of pulling away, he forced himself to relax into the embrace.

  “He made promises and broke them. I came off like a fool for believing him. He wanted to isolate me and make me friendless. He was good at it. There are things I shouldn’t tell you—not that you believe anything I say anyway. Last night was just more of the same.”

  “You can tell me,” Franklin offered. “If you want.”

  Gianni glanced up. For the first time, Franklin let the eye contact linger for more than a heartbeat. Gianni’s eyes were hazel and glittered with moisture, like the forest after a storm. Beautiful. All the rules flew out the window. If the vampire wanted to hypnotize him, Franklin had just made it easy.

  “What’s your name?”

  Franklin froze. He didn’t feel compelled, so the vampire wasn’t using his influence, simply asking. Regardless, Franklin shook his head.

  “I can’t. I—”

  “Then I can’t tell you, can I?” Gianni said sadly, dropping his arms and stepping back. Franklin let him go, the warmth where they’d been pressed together cooling with the night air.

  Gianni wiped his eyes, and Franklin saw his composure returning in stages.

  “See you around, Buffy.” He walked away.

  It was a dismissal, but Franklin longed to follow. He wanted to help, but he also, finally, had something useful to report to the Scourge.

  Franklin left in the opposite direction, knowing he would come back during business hours and get his own damn library card.

  5

  Rejection

  Gianni

  Oswald lingered around the Farthing. His presence forced Gianni to lay low—not something he had much experience with, but a necessary evil to escape the man’s attention. He didn’t want to run into the sovereign. More than that, he didn’t want the temptation to drink from him again. If Oswald thought the renewal of their blood bond would entice Gianni to follow him home, tail between his legs, he was wrong. Now Gianni suffered the pain of withdrawal as Oswald’s powerful blood worked its way from his system—again—but being free of him was worth it.