Page 21 of Fangbanger

“You’re twitchy for a slayer. I expected someone more…graceful.”

My face heats. “I normally am.”

A huff of breath behind me, but no movement. He’s naked. My mind conjures fantasies of what he looks like beneath the towel, and I angrily swat them away. Maybe he’s like a doll down there—no parts to speak of. For my own sanity, I hope so.

“I unsettle you, slayer. Tell me, is it the fangs?”

“Leah.” I clear my throat. “I still don’t trust you. That’s all.”

“Leah.” His voice is husky now. “We’ll have to work on that.” There’s a lilt that suggests he’s…teasing me? Do vampires do teasing? “You want me to wear all of this?”

“Up to you.” I shift restlessly, waiting for the sound that indicates he’s dressing. “Hurry up.”

He rasps another laugh before I hear the sound of fabric sliding over skin. “I might not sweat, but even I don’t want to wear seven pounds of fleece to bed.”

“Fine.”

I shift from foot to foot, and I swear an eternity passes before the bed creaks and he says, “You may turn.”

His gaze is amused as he watches me blow out the scented lavender candle I keep lit before bedtime and slide beneath the covers.

“What?” I snap.

“One wonders why you’re so eager for me to cover up.”

“Does one?”

He huffs a breath. “One does. And one also wonders why you yourself are wearing something so thin.”

My breath catches in my throat. I don’t know how to respond, but I do know he’s messing with me.

“Go to sleep,” I hiss back.

“But my lady, you haven’t bound our ankles.”

I growl and toss the shoelace at him. “Do it yourself.”

His fingers brush my ankle, and I jolt so hard the bed shakes. They skim briefly up my calf before he ties the knot.

There’s silence. I was exhausted from our fight last night and I passed out, but now, I am all too aware of the male form next to me and the fact that he doesn’t need to breathe and he’s heavy enough to make the bed dip.

Even now, I’m fighting gravity to keep from rolling toward him.

“Leah.” His voice is low and soft.

“Yes?”

“You are not what I expected.”

Against all odds, the words make my throat tighten.

“You are—not what I expected either.”

He’s feral, but funny. Competent and charming in turns. Intriguing. Far too intriguing, actually.

“In what ways?”

I stare at the ceiling and the thin sliver of moonlight that paints the plaster.