Page 37 of The Slayer Seduction

“I’m going to get changed for bed. I’ll be right back,” I say instead of answering and half run into the bathroom like a coward.

I lean against the door, my heart pumping too fast as I try to calm my nerves. There’s an invisible force that wants me to go back out there and look at every naked inch of him, which is just abhorrent. I’d never truly found men attractive before. Sure, in a sense I could look at a man and know if they were objectively good looking, but I never looked at one and had a visceral reaction to their appearance.

It’s why I know I would be a terrible mate. What the Slayer thinks he wants, I can’t give him. It’s best that we all go back to how things were.

My head thunks against the door as I try to wrap my mind around everything that’s going on and everything that I need to do. I’m not attracted to him, not really. It’s just whatever this magic is that’s forcing us together, someone cursed me long before I was born, and if there’s one thing I know without a doubt, it’s that curses can be broken.

Taking my time, I look at the address that Adam gave me. Step one is going to be stealing that spell book or grimoire. They live quite a few parishes over, about a two-hour drive. There’s no way I could portal that distance. On Google Maps, the property looks rough, the satellite images showcasing a dilapidated home with a front yard full of trash.

It makes me wonder more about who Adam is and why his family would have this sort of magic. Witches are inherently secretive creatures. To give a human any tidbits of magic was to put your life at risk.

There’s no way I could go to this house alone, and it was too much of a risk to store the spell book at the shop, either. Ember was out of the question, and my grandmother was powerful, but aging; I couldn’t risk her. While I wasn’t happy about the idea of asking for help, and knew deep down my coven would do anything for me, including my best friends, I still hated asking.

Despite myself, I shoot a message off to Violet.

Tomorrow night. Meet me at the back of the Howl at the Moon, we need to take a trip to St. Perdue.

Violet

I’ll be there. What exactly are we going to be doing in bum fuck nowhere?

Stealing the spell book that brought the Slayer here.

Violet

You’re sure that’s what you want?

See you tomorrow.

I close my phone, and put on the sleep shirt and shorts I brought into the bathroom, brush my teeth, do all my self-care spellwork, and just stare at myself for a long moment.

This is the right thing. Protect Ember, save Adam, break the curse.

Yet, as I walk back into the room, and spot the Slayer lounged on my bed like he lives there holding my copy of The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan with one large hand, guilt sinks heavily in my stomach.

“What are you doing?” I question him and he glances over at Scarlett.

“Little fox said it was her favorite book and that it might help me understand women better,” he says, and that bubbling feeling of doubt rises in my throat like the worst acid reflex I’ve ever had.

“You can sleep on the couch. You’ve been hogging up the bed for days while you recovered.”

He glances over at the fox for advice.

“Yes, Slayer, move to the couch. You haven’t earned bed status yet.”

With Scarlett’s instructions, he gets off the bed, bringing his book with him, and lies on the couch. The man is absurdly tall, so he doesn’t fit, but he also doesn’t complain, either. It’s fucking with my head as I stare at him, his big body sprawled on the couch as he reads the book with so much intrigue.

I do my best to shake the thoughts away and get under my covers; I notice immediately that there’s a different scent to the bed, something more earthly like oakmoss and balsam. It’s more comforting than it should be.

Scarlett scampers on to the bed with me and I’m thankful that she didn’t choose him over me. That might have sent me into an even bigger spiral.

“He’s trying, mistress. He’s like a cave man brought to the future. Be patient,” she says.

I don’t know if the Slayer hears her or not. If he does, he doesn’t make it known. It’s late as I cradle against my pillow, trying to ignore as he turns the pages. Clearly, his vision enables him to read even plunged in the darkness.

Miraculously my eyelids drift close.

For the first time in months, I sleep through the entire night. Not a single vision plagues me. I don’t even dream. I just sleep and try not to make it out to be a bigger deal than it is.