Page 16 of Fangbanger

“Slayer,” he growls from the doorway.

“Leah,” I snap. “My name is Leah.”

“Leah,” he repeats in that strange accent, the L coming out crisp, but the vowels caressed by his tongue. “We need supplies.”

I cannot think when he is this close and this—my brain stutters—bare. “What kind of supplies?”

Goddess, he smells good. Vampires might not sweat, but he smells of fall and exertion. There’s a spicy note that makes me want to rub my face⁠—

“We need a pit of stakes.”

I blink. “A pit of what?”

He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge. “Stakes. We need to fortify this house. You are shockingly lax. And boiling tar is very hard to come by in the modern era.”

My mouth parts. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious, sla—Leah.” He scowls, like I’m a child he is taking to task instead of a full-grown woman who could cut his head off. I fantasize briefly about taking the knife I used for the mustard and putting it through his jugular.

His gaze narrows. “You have twenty minutes to indulge whatever blood-soaked fantasies are going through your head. And then we leave.”

He turns on his heel and stalks back outside. I watch him go, shock mixing with appreciation for the way his back is just as defined as his front.

I need to get a grip.

And he needs clothing.

9

LEAH

The vampire regards the box with folded arms and a hard stare. He looks like he’s trying to intimidate it into submission.

“Just think of what you want, will it to appear, and open the lid.” The box was a Christmas gift from Karina, and it will produce anything the user wishes to wear. Karina and I use it to create ballgowns for holidays and Halloween costumes for the witch clan.

He slices me a glance from under lowered brows. “I expect this will go as well as the binding spell.”

“That worked as intended.”

A single arrogant brow goes up. “Did it? Do you like having me in your head, then?”

“I’m—getting used to it.” The truth is something that I’d rather die than admit—that I don’t entirely mind having him there. It’s almost comforting to feel the cool anchor at the back of my thoughts.

His gaze is probing. “I am getting used to it too. We should figure out how to use it in the fight.” He turns back to the box, squeezes his eyes shut, and pulls open the lid.

I choke on air. “You can’t wear that.”

He holds the leather pants up to the light. “What do you mean? These are of excellent quality.” He holds them out for my inspection.

“You need to fit in. The lumber yard is owned by weres but frequented by humans from the next town over.”

Silver Falls sits on the border between the forest and the human towns nearby. The forest and the waypoints inside it spawn nasty supernatural creatures and draw vampires to hunt. The human towns are mere miles away, and Marcus knows we are bound to keep our existence a secret from the humans.

His lip curls. “What do you suggest?”

“A hoodie. Jeans. Black if you insist upon being a cliché. It’s October and it’s getting chilly. You cannot walk bare-chested into the lumber yard in leather pants. There will be a riot.”

Something feral sparks in his gaze. “A riot?”