Slay My Love Page 7

  A loud crash pounded into the room.

  The floor shook as the door burst from its hinges. There was no time to gather himself as two powerful hands gripped his biceps, ripped him from Tabea, and flung him across the room. He landed hard, his lower back slamming into a side table. Blood spatter wet his face.

  Tabea screamed, scrabbled backward off the couch, and put her back to the wall. She tore the shade off a lamp and brandished the base like a weapon. “What the fuck?”

  Gianni was sprawled out on the floor, staring up at the slayer, who stood in the center of the room. He filled the space like a nightmare: fists clenched at his side, cheeks aflame, nostrils flared.

  “Goddammit, Buffy, what the hell?”

  “I can’t let you kill her!” he roared.

  “What the fuck do you think you saw? I wasn’t going to hurt her.” Gianni picked himself up off the floor, elbowed his way past Buffy, and went to soothe Tabea.

  Her eyes darted back and forth between them. She was still holding the lamp in front of her.

  “I know what I saw. You were drinking her blood.” Fists clenching at his sides, the slayer appeared to barely hold back his strength.

  “I’m a vampire. It’s normal, or did you forget?” Gianni sniped. Then softer, to Tabea, “I’m sorry. He’s a slayer, but I know him. It’s okay—”

  “It is not okay. And it is not normal,” the slayer interrupted, fuming.

  “Stop it. You’re scaring my friend,” Gianni said, lowering his voice. “There are none of us holy. We’re all food for something, Buffy.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  Gianni rounded on him. “Then tell me your name!”

  They stared at each other, tension thick like cold molasses.

  Tabea’s death grip on the lamp didn’t falter.

  “You should leave. I need to heal the punctures, and I don’t want you ripping me off her this time. She could have been hurt.”

  “She was being hurt! You’re a monster, just like the others. I don’t know why they think you’re different.”

  “I’m the monster here? Look what you did.” Gianni gestured to Tabea. Her eyes were wide and her heartbeat elevated. Blood ran down her neck, ruining her lovely yellow blouse.

  “I’m not the one that fucking bit her like a rabid animal!”

  “Get out,” Gianni said, voice dangerously calm so as not to upset Tabea further.

  Their eyes met. Buffy looked like he’d refuse, like there was more he had to say. He turned his attention to Tabea.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Get out,” she echoed.

  The slayer gaped in disbelief, as if he couldn’t understand what he’d heard. For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Then Gianni watched, frozen in place, as the slayer stormed through the empty doorframe and into the night.

  Well, that could have gone better.

  When he was certain Buffy wasn’t lingering, he turned back to Tabea. She held her neck with one hand and the lamp with the other. She looked calmer now, but still traumatized.

  Gianni took a deep breath, gently removed the lamp from her grasp, and set it back on the table. “I am so sorry.”

  “Who was that lunatic?”

  “I thought I knew, but I guess I don’t. I’ve sort of been seeing him. He won’t hurt you, though, I swear. He thought he was protecting you from me.”

  She tilted her head. “He’s a vampire hunter?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Buffy?”

  “He won’t tell me his real name,” Gianni admitted sadly.

  “Why are you hanging out with a vampire hunter? Do you have a death wish?”

  “Maybe. I’m starting to think so. Let me take care of this for you.”

  She removed her hand. Carefully, Gianni bent to her throat and licked the punctures closed. He lapped the drying blood from her skin and retreated. “Your shirt, it’s ruined. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault.”

  “It is, though. I get this feeling when he’s around, like a fluttering just under my skin. It’s hard to explain. I felt it, but I thought I was just hungry. I ignored it.”

  “Well, I’m all right now. Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.” She led him to a bathroom and ran water into the sink.

  “I’ll get the council to send money for the repairs. Oh, god. How am I going to explain this?”

  “Yeah, how are you going to do that?” Tabea soaked a cloth and reached for his face. Gianni watched their reflections in the mirror—pale, wide-eyed. They both looked shell-shocked. She washed the blood spatter off his lips and cheeks while he pondered what lie the council might believe about a slayer interrupting a blood donation and leaving without a kill.

  “On second thought, let me pay you directly.”

  “Whatever. My boyfriend will fix the door.” She took his chin and turned him from the mirror to face her. He met her gaze, her dark brown eyes serious. “You know you need to stop seeing that guy, right?”

  “He really isn’t that bad.”

  “You don’t even know his name.” She gave him a look. “The hunters are so prejudiced against vampires they don’t know an ass from an elbow. He’s been indoctrinated, Gianni. He’ll never be able to get to know the real you. You’re risking your life every time you see him.”

  Unshed tears stung his eyes. She was right.

  “Oh no. You’ve got it bad.”

  Gianni squinted, scrunched up his nose to stop the tears from falling. “Maybe a little.”

  “Just be careful. You seem nice. You can do better.”

  “Believe me when I tell you I can’t. I’ll bring money for the door. Is tomorrow night okay? I should go.”

  “You’re chasing after him?”

  Gianni let his silence speak for itself.

  “Tomorrow’s fine. Don’t get dead.”

  “Right. No dying. Check.”

  Gianni left Tabea alone to change her clothes and call her boyfriend about the door. He went straight to the ballpark, but the slayer wasn’t there.

  Gianni sat on their bench and waited. He stayed all night in the cold, even when he’d lost hope the man would show. The tingle on the back of his neck never came.

  Loneliness set in with the morning fog, hazy and dense.

  Franklin

  “I fucked up. He hates me now,” Franklin told Darrow, the two of them alone in the chief’s office. He hadn’t meant to be so honest, but the chief had caught him off-guard, asking after his plans, and it just came out.

  “What do you mean? What happened?”

  Franklin gave a truthful, if abbreviated, version of the story. “He was furious. The woman was terrified. She was actually afraid of me and not him. He won’t forgive me for this.”

  “You don’t know that,” Darrow said. “Let’s see if it’s salvageable before we move forward with the live capture. Give him some time to cool off, say you’re sorry, and then ask after the girl.”

  For a moment, Franklin had almost forgotten about the live capture. What was he doing? He didn’t want Gianni to end up as a test subject in the Scourge’s lab. He should never have told Darrow the truth. He stood straighter and squared his shoulders.

  “You’re right. I can fix this.”

  “That’s the spirit. He wants to know your name. It couldn’t hurt to give some ground.”

  “But…” Franklin had been taught names held power among the undead, that he should never reveal his. “Is that safe? Are you sure?”

  “You don’t have to give him your real name. Call yourself anything. He’ll never know the difference.”

  That simple solution hadn’t occurred to him. Now it was obvious. Gianni would be mad if he found out, but he never had to know. Maybe it would work, and they could go back to the way things were. Later, once Franklin convinced him to leave, they wouldn’t see each other again.

  Rubbing his neck, Franklin collected his thoughts. Gianni had looked every bit the predator as he was leaning ove
r that girl—blood donor—whatever she was. Franklin should have been angry at the sight, but the truth was jealousy had risen up inside him like vomit. The emotion shocked him. He hadn’t held back, throwing Gianni like a rag doll. The vampire would have bruises. Bruises Franklin had caused. The thought made him ill. Gianni shouldn’t forgive him, but he’d have to convince the vampire to listen somehow, for his own good.

  Perhaps giving him a name would do it.

  If Franklin could find him.

  10

  New Friends

  Gianni

  If Buffy didn’t want to see him anymore, that was fine. It was time Gianni got over himself and made new friends. Tabea was right. He was courting danger, and for what? Buffy’s tolerance? Discerning his endgame was impossible, but it probably wasn’t what Gianni wanted. The more time they spent together, the more he longed for Buffy to be his companion, to be his lover. Since that obviously wasn’t going to happen, he’d cut his losses and move on.

  With that in mind, he made himself pretty, but not too pretty because he didn’t want to outshine any of the women he planned to befriend. He’d noticed a group of younger vampires who didn’t laugh or sneer at him. With any luck, he’d talk his way into whatever their plans were for the night. He had to get out and get his mind off the slayer.

  Hayleigh was the loudest of the group, the most popular and confident, and thus the one Gianni needed to win over to earn an invitation. He marched straight to her suite, entirely prepared to beg.

  She smiled at finding him outside her door. “Gianni, this is a surprise.” She tucked a lock of golden blonde hair behind her ear. “Come in. What brings you here?”

  Maybe he wouldn’t need to grovel after all. Honesty was the best policy, right? It couldn’t make things any worse. Plus, she looked friendly, her oval face lit with curiosity and a welcoming grin on her lips. She wasn’t dressed to go out, but it was still early. There was time to convince her.

  “I’m crazy bored, Hayleigh. I’ve got to make some friends before I die old and alone. Everyone hates me, and I can’t even have a dog. Can I hang out with you?” There. The truth. Gianni waited with bated breath.

  Hayleigh gave a warm belly laugh, her smile revealing the top row of her white teeth and glistening fangs. She swept her arm toward the living room and stood back to let him pass. “For Christ’s sake, sit down. Of course you can hang out with me. Why do you even want a dog?”

  Gianni released a breath. Relief filled his chest. He could kiss her. “Thanks. That was easier than I thought it would be. I don’t really know if I want a dog. It’s complicated.”

  Her place was decorated in jewel tones with rich fabrics and textures, and her collection of throw pillows rivaled his. He wanted to walk around her sitting room and touch things. He took a seat on a ruby red leather sofa. “Will your friends mind too much, do you think?” He brushed his fingers over a satin tassel. “I seem to be the laughingstock around here.”

  “Jess and Avery? Are you kidding? They don’t give a shit what the others think, but I can’t promise they won’t have questions.”

  “Right, questions.” Gianni was resigned. This part was unavoidable.

  “I have a few myself. The rumors about you are wild.”

  “Probably all true, though I don’t know what people are saying. I was an idiot. Lots of bad decisions.”

  Hayleigh sat in the chair opposite and leaned back, crossing her legs.

  Gianni could see she was burning to ask something, but politeness held her back. “Go ahead. Hit me with your questions. I can take it.”

  She leaned in. “Did you really think the sovereign of Philly would change you? That’s, like, unheard of.”

  “I’m afraid so. Hook, line, and sinker. An ancient changed him, so I thought I could get him to break with tradition as well. It would be nice to start my undead life so powerful. Was hoping to be promoted from bedwarmer to co-sovereign. I never claimed to be smart.”

  “Jesus. And all those things you did for him? Did he really make you sleep with visiting sovereigns?”

  “Also true.” Gianni gave a little shrug. What can you do? “Seemed worth it at the time.”

  “We all make mistakes,” she offered, mirroring his shrug.

  “We don’t all let assholes livestream them. That’s exclusive to me.” The sovereign of Chicago had an exhibitionist streak, and Gianni hadn’t felt like he could say no. It would be a long time before he lived that one down. He cringed, wondering if she’d watched it.

  “He was an asshole for pushing you to do those things in the first place, but you win the prize for best-worst-mistake. I can’t compete with that.” She leaned farther into the couch and tucked her feet up.

  Gianni laughed. “I don’t suggest you try. The fallout sucks.”

  “Once, I pretended to be a student at a university to seduce a professor I fancied. I thought myself quite racy at the time. He was delicious.” Hayleigh grinned and licked her lips. “I was so into him, I told him what I was, but he freaked out. I had to compel him to forget.”

  “His loss.”

  “You’re sweet. You know, I’ve never met a living vampire before.”

  Gianni leapt at the subject change. He didn’t want to relive his worst moments or remind her of hers. “There aren’t very many of us.” Currently, there were less than a hundred in the whole world, dwindling down to only a few familial lines. So few that reproduction had to follow a strict plan to avoid inbreeding.

  “Are you eager to be changed?”

  Gianni sat back. He’d been trying not to think about this. “Not anymore. I used to be eager to be a turned vampire, but now I don’t know. Would you go back if you could?”

  “To being human? No way!” Hayleigh shook her head. “Not for a million dollars. This is better. It might be hard for you to understand—you’ve never been human. They’re so fragile. Even a living vampire is stronger than a human.”

  “Stronger, faster, less impervious to disease and such, but we’re still fragile compared to undead vampires. I used to worry more about what could happen if I ever really got hurt, but I don’t so much now.”

  “Why not?” Hayleigh asked.

  “Well, being away from Oswald helped. No one takes pleasure in hurting me lately, so there’s that.”

  Hayleigh leaned forward in her seat, locking her eyes with his. “I’m glad you got away.”

  Gianni smiled. “Thanks, me too. Can I ask how old you are? Or is that rude?”

  “It’s probably rude.” She laughed. “But I think I owe you one. I’m thirty-five. I was made a vampire six years ago. Jess and Avery are similar. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-six. But I feel eighty.”

  “Well, you’re as dramatic as everyone says you are.”

  “Guilty.” Gianni grinned.

  “Let me text the others. You’re bored, right? We’ll take you out. What do you want to do?”

  “Seriously? You’re a queen.” Gianni clapped his hands together. “Dancing. Can we go dancing?”

  “Of course.”

  “The human club though, do you know it? The Mint Lounge? I can’t deal with any vampire bullshit tonight.”

  “The Mint Lounge it is.”

  Jess and Avery turned out to be just as nice, if not quite as outspoken, as Hayleigh. Avery brought her partner, Bryson, giving Gianni so much company he almost felt popular. Why hadn’t he done this before? Oswald had made him forget all his social skills. He used to be good at making friends. Maybe he still was. Now that he was dancing with this new group and anyone who cared to join them, it wasn’t so hard. Just be nice and maybe shake your ass a little. Simple.

  The others ordered cocktails, and Gianni drank them one by one when the bartender wasn’t looking. He was the only one who could. They were amused by his party trick, a vampire who could drink something other than blood, as Buffy had been.

  Damnit.

  He swore he wasn’t going to think about the slayer.

&nbs
p; A few more drinks and he made good on that promise. Gianni wasn’t thinking about anything. He danced with Bryson. He danced with strangers. He danced with Hayleigh. He danced by himself. The music was loud and his vision pleasantly fuzzy. Gianni forgot his troubles and let himself pulse to the beat.

  They closed the club down. It was two a.m. when they left, pouring out onto the street in a fit of giggles. The crisp night air refreshed his senses. Being part of a group again felt marvelous, exactly what he needed.

  Until.

  It started with that fucking tingle. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. A shiver coursed down his spine.

  Buffy.

  Gianni cast his eyes quickly over their surroundings, searching. Across the street, partially hidden by shadows under the awning of a pawn shop, stood his slayer.

  He looked…heartbroken.

  Gianni sobered up in an instant, narrowing his gaze and focusing. He hadn’t imagined it—Buffy looked sad. Gianni wanted to go to him, but he forced himself to play it cool. These vampires could not know about the slayer. Four on one were terrible odds.

  If they saw him, Buffy was as good as dead.

  Gianni tore his gaze from Buffy and turned his attention back to the others. He took Hayleigh’s hand, kissed it, and practically dragged her down the street.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Franklin

  Gianni looked happy.

  And drunk, definitely drunk.

  Franklin watched him stumble out of the club, a pack of vampires in tow. Five vampires in a group were lethal. A lone slayer had no business hanging out across the street from a pack that size, but there he stood, frozen in place, watching Gianni. Always watching Gianni.

  The vampire saw him. Of course he did. Somehow, Gianni knew when Franklin was watching. Their eyes met, and Franklin wanted to call out to him, but he couldn’t. That would be suicide. So he stared with jealousy churning in his gut as Gianni led the jovial group away.