“He was worth it,” I croak.
Oz gets down on his haunches and tsks his tongue. “It’s a shame you and your coven will have to die because you got involved with the wrong vampire. But I can assure you, I’ll have the utmost fun draining them all dry. Who should I start with? Violet, Iris, or maybe your bigoted grandmother. Maybe I’ll let her live.”
Tears are falling down my eyes and my wand is so tight in my hand it feels like I might break it.
Of course, this maniac knows all about my coven. At least Iris has the Slayer, and Violet has the wolves. Maybe they stand a better chance.
Oz’s hand touches my face, his thumb and forefinger squeezing my chin. “He always had a soft spot for sweet, pretty, little things. Now, if you give me the protection item you have, I’ll make it painless,” Oz says.
I look around again; I don’t see Warin’s body, I don’t hear anyone moving, until I do. It’s a quick glimpse, something not vampire, something else. I lick my lips.
“Vow it,” I tell Oz.
He laughs. “I don’t need to make a vow with a dead woman. They’re gone, all of them. It’s just you and me here, but thedifference is, I have more vampires and what do you have? Nothing.”
“I have a family, people who care about me, more than I can say for you,” I reply.
Oz laughs, squeezing my face harder. “You think I give a shit about that?”
“I don’t know, you tell me? You’re how old and throwing a tantrum over your progeny not loving you?”
“You know nothing. You’re an insignificant little bi?—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence as the wooden stake slams through his heart, his blood splattering my face in the process. He holds the wood in his chest, like he can’t believe it, his veins going black as he falls to his knees and collapses to the ground.
I hope to see Warin behind him, and hope floods my veins, until I see the man that was standing outside of Iris’ store the other day. He stands tall, black tattoos covering his skin as he tilts his head at me in an in-human gesture.
“She’s unhurt,” his deep, spooky voice says.
Suddenly, Iris is on her knees next to me giving me a hug. The Slayer watches with an almost jealous gaze as Iris squeezes me tight.
“How?” I rasp out.
“Samantha. She sent me an odd text message that included emoji’s saying that you may be out of your depth and that Oz is the whole reason Adam was turned into the Slayer. We teleported here.”
“I wish to have a hug of my own now,” the Slayer says, and Iris rolls her eyes.
She stands and holds her hands out for me, pulling me up to my feet.
“Give Adam control, and I’ll give you a hug,” Iris counters.
“No. Me. I would like the hug, not the man,” the Slayer retorts.
I’m wiping tears from my eyes, trying to see if Warin is still there. The room is a mess of blood and bodies, and I can’t help the sad little hiccup that falls out of me.
“I’ll give you a hug and then you give Adam control. He’s the only one we came here to kill. None of the others,” Iris says, her hands on her hips.
“A kiss. A kiss and I will not kill the other blood suckers and I will let Adam have control for an hour.”
Iris takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for guidance.
“Others?” I interrupt, something hopeful in my voice. It must be what gets Iris to agree.
“Fine, a kiss and you do everything you promise.”
The Slayer leans down, their height difference is staggering as his dark eyes search hers. She seems less than impressed as she leans forward and places the chastest kiss against his lips.
I expect the Slayer to pout about it, complain that it wasn’t much of a kiss. Instead, he grins from ear to ear, which is horrifying.
