“Can you talk? Do you understand me?”
He jerked his head.
Tabby wasn’t sure if that was an answer or if he was just trying to shake the collar loose.
She decided to go with the first option. “What’s your name?”
“Ronald,” he spit out. His face scrunched up, like it really did hurt him to tell her. “Bowers.”
“Ronald Bowers.” She committed that to memory, just in case. “Okay. You listen to me, Ron. Hey. Can I call you Ron?”
A whine keened out of his human throat.
She took that as a yes. “Ron. You got to listen to me. Who did this to you?”
He shook his head. His face scrunched even tighter, a mess of wrinkles and lines. His mouth was clamped shut. Eyes, too.
That wasn’t helping anyone. “Ron. You need to tell me what kind of magic made you feral. Do you understand? Are you in control, or is someone making you do this?”
“Slayer,” he bit out.
She could tell from the agony in the word that he wasn’t blaming her for this, but pointing out the very obvious truth of what she was.
“Just because I’m a slayer, it doesn’t mean I’m just going to kill you,” Tabby assured him. “I want to help. You’re under a spell. You didn’t mean to attack us, did you?”
He huffed. At least, Tabby thought it was a huff. When he did it again, rougher, louder, she realized it was more than that.
He was choking on his breath.
What the hell was going on?
“Ron.” Tabby tried to keep her voice calm. It was difficult, but she tried. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Is it the collar?” Slayer collars were like the collars they used on shifters in the Cage: treated on the inside so that the raw silver didn’t kill the Para outright. Unless he touched the outside, the most it could do was corral the beast. “What’s wrong?”
“Not…” He gasped. “Not the collar.”
“Then what—”
Tabby never got the answer to that. Before she even finished her question, the wolf shifter’s eyes flew open, bulging out of his face. Blood vessels burst on each side, making it look like the whites of his eyes were running red. He choked, then gagged, then let out a soft rattle.
A rush of air escaped his open mouth. It had a purple glow to it and, when it wafted past Tabby, it reeked strongly of the cloying, sickly scent of way too much baby powder.
Magic.
Seizing in place, Ronald stayed up on his knees for a heartbeat before slumping over onto the grass.
Dead.
He was dead.
Tabby blinked.
Well. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
She had to call it in.
Tabby didn’t realize how much watching some kind of outside spell kill the shifter in front of her had messed her up until she tried to make that call. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she tried entering the passcode three times, growing more and more frustrated when it didn’t unlock—before she figured out that she still had Adam’s phone on her.
Whoops. She’d forgotten about that. Luckily, it survived the fight.
She couldn’t say the same thing for hers. It was in her other back pocket and, based on the spiderweb cracks all over the screen, it had taken the brunt of the impact one of the many times she hit the ground.
On the plus side, it still worked and, a few minutes later, she had given her report to Boone.
It was tough, picking and choosing what to tell him without out-and-out lying. Good thing she had a lot of practice growing up as his overprotected niece.
She explained she got held up in Woodbridge after she took out the Nightwalker earlier, only to be hunted by a shifter while she was catching some rest before heading back to Grayson.
Since that wasn’t so out of the ordinary for a night-based slayer, Boone accepted her explanation without too much trouble. But then he asked for the address of the house she was staying at and she had to think on her feet. When Tabby made it clear that she didn’t need a pick-up—because how would she explain Adam?—Boone told her that he just wanted to compensate the homeowners for any damages.
Slayer’s Code.
A slayer hunts honestly and with integrity…
Tabby might have used her best judgment to seek sanctuary in some rando’s basement. As a slayer, it was alright—but the whole “honestly and with integrity” part made it so that it was an in-and-out deal. With the damages left behind by the cursed shifter, throwing some money at the situation was the best they could do.
Especially since secrecy kind of went out the window when she was forced to fight Bowers on the lawn. At least no one could be sure that she was a slayer. She didn’t actually tell anyone that she was.
Well, except for Adam, that was.
Sighing when Boone ended the call, Tabby tried to push Adam out of her mind as she dealt with the last of the clean-up.
Tried.
Failed.
He was always there, like a splinter in her finger that she couldn’t quite get out. It had been more than a week since his bite. She could still feel the warmth of his lips on her skin as if it had just happened.
And that worried her way more than whatever magic had forced a shifter to attack before killing him from a distance.
Later, she decided. She’d deal with her whacked-out feelings for the Nightwalker later.
So, reaching behind her, Tabby tightened her ponytail and went back to work.
As soon as she was sure that all that was left of Ronald Bowers was the pile of dust, Tabby stepped over it and, after slipping the transformed version of the collar back over her head again, hobbled back toward their borrowed house.
She opened the door, quickly pulling it closed behind her. Once she was safely inside again, she let her thoughts head right back to the sexy blond Nightwalker.
Despite the sizable chip on his shoulder that just about screamed “death wish” when it came to existing as a Nightwalker, Tabby hoped that Adam had heeded her warning and stayed back. She hated the idea of his going up in smoke because the hard-headed male couldn’t handle being left out of the fight.
She’d had enough of that shit with her last boyfriend.
Lance. Ugh. In some ways, he was even worse than Eddie.
Lance Caprio was a human who believed in all the twisted propaganda out there about Paras. He was bigoted in that underhanded kind of way which almost seemed worse to her.
During their time together, she refused to tell him that she was a slayer; as Adam proved, the Slayer’s Code didn’t quite entice her to keep the secret all of the time, but her own gut helped Tabby decide if she should let the truth slip or not. With Lance? It was a not.
They met at the local gym in one of the towns she was assigned to last year. The apartment Boone put her in didn’t have enough room to stretch out in, let alone allow her to actually work out. The gym seemed perfect, like killing two birds with one stone. She could stay loose and limber while also keeping an ear cocked for any hint of a Para threat in town.
She missed out on a hunt, but somehow she landed Lance. A true meathead, Tabby was blinded by his huge muscles and even bigger dick. So long as he kept quiet, they got along great. But then he would open his mouth and say something infuriating and she’d wonder why she put up with him.
The dick was great, but it so wasn’t worth it.
Especially since he treated her like a weak child. Sure, she wasn’t anywhere near his size, but she could probably kick his ass if she tried. It didn’t matter that, when he first hit on her, she was benching at an elite level, tapping out at one-fifty, more than twenty pounds greater than her weight. No. To Lance, she was a damsel he needed to protect.
No, thanks.
That was more than a year ago now and hell if Tabby wasn’t grateful when Boone pulled her out of that town. She’d sent Lance a break-up text using her burner phone, ditching it as she left Morning Heights in her rearview, all the while promising herself that she’d thi
nk twice before falling into bed with another man.
As Tabby walked into the front room, she thought about Lance, then she thought about her sexy Nightwalker. And how, if he seemed interested, she’d definitely consider rethinking her whole “no sex during a case” stance.
Then she thought about what he was packing under those grey sweats of his and she realized that, some time since she met Adam, she’d already considered it—and made a decision.
Uh-oh.
Trouble, trouble, Tab.
She was still thinking about him when, out of the shadows of the hall, Adam flew toward her and swept her off of her feet.
11
This was a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
A super shitty, what-the-hell-are-you-thinking idea.
Adam knew that. He knew he was out of control. He was letting his emotions and the possessive instincts he’d spent too long trying to deny get the better of him.
And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.
He’d blame Tabby if it wasn’t for the fact that it was one hundred percent his fault. After watching her bravely walk out of the house to face off against a wolf shifter nearly double her size… then to see her come back in with barely a hair out of place, somehow smelling of musk and spicy heat… he had to hold her.
He wanted to do more than that, but he needed to hold her close.
When Tabby curled up against him a couple of hours ago, snuggling her way under his arm, resting her head on his chest as if she actually trusted him… it took everything in him not to make his move last night. Their attraction—which he was praying was more than mutual at this point—was one thing. But the lust coupled with overwhelming need slamming into him as he watched Tabby slay that Nightwalker in the woods…
Jesus, he’d never been so hard.
He had stayed quiet on their walk back, barely listening as she talked him down last night. She seemed worried about him, keeping up the conversation as if she had sensed she needed to, and Adam kept his trap shut because clumsily blurting out, “God, I want to fuck you right now,” didn’t seem like the smoothest of moves when he was so incredibly desperate for this woman.
And that wasn’t like him at all.
Before his last dry spell, Adam Wright went after a prospective conquest with a dimple in his cheek, a twinkle in his eye, and the promise of pleasure in the curve of his smile. But with Tabby… it was like the primal side of him was taking over.
Was it because he was a Para now?
Probably.
He managed to get control of himself by the time she convinced him to break into the empty house to beat the sun; worrying about getting caught by Woodbridge cops took his mind off of his hard-on for a while.
And then Tabby touched him, pressing her hip next to his when they settled down together, and it was all he could do not to pin her under him. Honestly, the only thing that stopped him was knowing they were squatting in a stranger’s home and, even if he suspected that Tabby would welcome his advances, she deserved better than a quick fuck on a cellar floor.
So he slept, though his rest was fitful, and that was before the shifter interrupted them. Then he had to let her go, because she was a slayer and it was her duty, leaving Adam to prowl around the darkened corner of the house, straining to hear the sounds coming from the fight outside.
But she was okay. Whatever happened with the shifter, Tabby was okay, and Adam was so relieved that he reacted before he thought better of what he was about to do.
Keeping one arm wrapped around Tabby’s back, he bent her just enough to tilt her head, angling her mouth upward. Her lips parted, but Adam moved before she could ask him what the hell he was doing. He slanted his mouth over hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth, stroking hers sensually as he proved to himself that she was with him by kissing the life out of her.
Tabby stiffened for a moment before wriggling her arms up, tossing them around his neck. Their teeth clashed, Adam trying to figure out how to do this without poking her with his fangs, Tabby enthusiastically returning his kiss.
The realization that his slayer was kissing him back instead of shoving him away went straight to his cock before slamming him upside his head with hope.
Hope that she was as into him as he was into her.
Hope that being a Nightwalker wouldn’t turn her off.
Hope that one kiss would lead to another and—
Adam was getting ahead of himself. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he broke the kiss so that he could let Tabby breathe. Her eyes were closed.
They sprang open as Adam moved his head away from hers.
Peeking at her through his mirrored shades, there was an undeniable daze in their dark brown depths that had his chest puffing out in pride.
He set her back on her sneakered feet, bracing her lower back with the flat of his hand as she stumbled a bit.
“I— are you okay?”
“Peachy keen,” Tabby said weakly. She laughed, a small little laugh, and blinked. “Wasn’t expecting that, though. Is that how you always greet a woman when she comes back home? Because I like it. If you want, I’ll walk back outside and we can do that again.”
She sounded like she meant it, too. A touch breathless from his deep kiss, but exhilarated all the same. Almost like she wanted him to kiss her.
So he took her hint and did just that.
The kiss was deeper this time, more frantic. He sensed her shift a second before she pressed her hands to his shoulders, vaulting herself up in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Adam groaned in her mouth as she started to rub her sex against his aching length.
Jeans, he thought. He just needed to zip open his, then pull hers down, and he could be inside of her in seconds.
Since his instincts demanded he get inside his slayer someway, somehow, that would be perfect.
Too bad he still had a shred of self-control left.
Even lost in her kiss, Adam knew that it was one thing to borrow an empty house to hide away in so that the sun didn’t turn him into a pile of ash. It was another totally to take advantage and fuck like bunnies because a grown ass man couldn’t control his cock long enough to wait until they were somewhere safe and secure.
Until then—
Shit.
At the familiar sting, Adam tried to pull away from Tabby, though even he would have to admit he didn’t try all that hard. When she felt him trying to distance himself from her, Tabby moved her hand, cupping the back of his head, leaving him no choice but to keep on kissing her.
Well, he was adamant that he get inside of her one way or another.
Looked like he did.
A few seconds later, almost as if she could tell that something big had happened—that something had changed—Tabby started to squirm against him, silently demanding to be put down again. Adam’s cock was so heavy, so hard, her wiggling had him about to shoot his load right there. He didn’t think she was doing it on purpose, but he didn’t want to shame himself in front of this woman by coming in front of her before he even had the chance to get her naked.
So he lowered her to the ground, stroking the undersides of her arm with his knuckles as she backed away from him.
For one excruciating moment, he thought she was going to tell him off for what he just did. He wouldn’t have blamed her one bit. What was he thinking?
Answer: he hadn’t been.
But then Tabby smiled at him, running one finger between the outline of his pecs. She was panting just a little, her voice so sultry, he bit back another groan.
“So, I was just thinking—”
“You can still think? Maybe I need to kiss you again.”
Tabby laughed. “Down, tiger. I was just thinking that, well, you weren’t wrong. It’s going to be dark out soon. And I know we missed the meet with Holly… it’s probably gonna take some to set up another one… and, hey, I’m not sure if you were planning on doing anything tonight...”
She
was babbling. His honest, straight-to-the-point slayer was rambling as if she thought she had to convince him.
It was fucking adorable.
She seemed to catch on. With a royal shake of her head, settling her long, blonde ponytail over one shoulder, she cut through the bullshit. “I’m free tonight. So’s my bed. I mean, if you want.”
If you want…
He wanted. He wanted badly.
His lips curved. When she didn’t flinch at the sight of his fangs, his grin widened. “I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”
“Except me.”
Adam chuckled. “Except you.”
Turned out that two hours was a long time.
A man could do a lot of thinking in two hours.
Reflecting.
Regretting.
Realizing he’d fucked up—and big time, too.
To make matters worse, once the sun had gone down and they could finally return to Adam’s car, Tabby’s cinnamon scent—so spicy, so sweet, so hot—was nothing short of torture to him as he drove them out of Woodbridge and back toward Grayson.
He knew exactly what they were heading toward. And though Adam would give his left nut to have one turn in Tabby’s bed, he spent the two hours listening to Tabby’s chatter and her singing while talking himself out of going home with her.
He had to. There was no choice. After the stunt he pulled with the kiss, he couldn’t risk it.
As he drove, he probed the spot on his tongue, sliding it up against the side of his fang. The slight wound had healed within minutes of the initial injury. He hadn’t cut it again which blew holes in his already weak justification that it had been an accident.
Worse.
It had been instinct.
Adam didn’t want to be a Para. He was only partnering up with Tabby because she had contacts that would help him get the elixir that might—just might—reverse his terrible curse.
Well, that and because he was afraid of what would happen to her if he wasn’t around to keep an eye on her. She had already proven that she could kick ass—the way she took out that Nightwalker plus the shifter was fucking masterful—but she took too many reckless risks. He wouldn’t guard her, he wouldn’t stop her from fighting, but he’d act as a back-up for her for as long as she allowed him to stand behind her.
Sunglasses at Night Page 11