Hot for Slayer (Scared Sexy Collection, #1)

by Ali Hazelwood

We weren’t friends, not by any correct meaning of the word. But, as much as it pained me to admit it, I did have a bit of a parasocial relationship going on with him, despite us having exchanged a grand total of two dozen words, most of which were some variation of die, monster, and no, you die first. Not that I enjoy relentless harassment, but what’s a girl to do when the only constant presence during the last millennium of her life has been a guy who’s contractually mandated to murder her?

“As long as you don’t let anyone get to you before I do, Aethelthryth.” “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll always save myself for you.”

When he noticed my eyes on him, he lifted the blade up to his face. And with a smile that did not feel like a smile, he began to lick it clean of my blood. It was . . . Well. It just was.

“It was one-sided,” he tells me after he’s done chewing. “From you.” “What?” “The dislike.” “I assure you, it was not.” “And I assure you, when I look at you, I feel anything but that.”

“I might not remember my name, or anything about who I am. But I could never be near you and not know exactly what you are to me.”

“No, I— No.” I shake my head. “This is wrong. I can’t do this to you.” He frowns. “You don’t need to do anything. I do things. To you.”

know your smell. I know your skin. Your hair. It’s all familiar. I have it all memorized. And I dream of you—of this. So many dreams, all so different, we must have done it a million times, in a million different ways. Tell me what you’re hiding from me, let’s get this over with, and then let’s do it a million more times.”

“Some lives run invisibly. Undetected by most. And when a person comes along who sees those lives for what they are, who acknowledges their reality, who reminds people that there is value in different ways of existing . . . A minute of that is worth more than a thousand nights with a lover. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Aethelthryth, nothing would make me happier than having you with me here, or in any other place that I will call home, for as long as I live. Please, come in.”

The feeling of touching and being touched by someone who knows me and whom I know. Someone who likes me and whom I like. Someone I could fall in love with and who would love me back. The sweetness of it roars through me, and I savor it.