Free The Last Slayer by Nadia Lee Page A

truckload of caffeine. My hands started trembling. I’d never had this much Sex in me before, and I felt like people could see it leaking from my pores. Kind of embarrassing.
    I wasn’t the only twitchy one. Several of Andersen’s buddies looked wired tight enough to snap. Nobody likes to deal with an unknown, and they had to cope with two: a dragonlord and outside consultants. The CEO himself, Bill Swain, probably wasn’t worried about supernaturals. They rarely attacked high-profile figures, types that might draw attention. Under current law, hunters couldn’t kill supernaturals without witnessing them violate someone first. But if all the legal restrictions were lifted, a lot of low- to midgrade demons would suffer. So supernaturals generally self-policed. It was the rogue demons that I had to deal with.
    Dragonlords, however, were another matter. No mortal could hope to hunt one, legal issues aside. I hoped Swain knew that.
    I gravitated toward the breakfast table, selected a warm glazed donut from a platter and chomped into it. So good. Nothing like pure sugar and trans fat to get a girl going in the morning.
    “You ready?” Andersen looked exactly the way he had the night before. He might have been old, but he seemed tough enough.
    I shrugged. “Does it matter? You can’t ask Semangelaf to postpone his visit.”
    He scowled again. He was probably scowling when he popped out of his mother.
    “So what time is he going to show up?” I said.
    Right on cue, a woman announced from her desk, “He’s here.”
    Great. Andersen swore and joined a few men at the woman’s station. I opted to finish my donut. I hadn’t brought my hunting gear, which would have been useless against a demigod. Instead I recited the words of draco perditio silently. I had no idea if I could actually make the spell work, but what else was there?
    The firm’s hunters came to me for their instructions. All of them were young. All of them were smart and in shape. And although they were hiding it well, all of them were scared. Correction—almost all of them were hiding it well. There was a foot tapping ninety beats a minute in my peripheral vision.
    It was Blake, one of our most junior hunters. I gave him The Stare, but he didn’t get the hint. Finally, the woman next to him put an elbow into his ribs. Blake started, looked at her, then me. The foot was still going, and I glared at it. The foot stopped, and Blake turned red.
    Finally satisfied, I began my spiel, “We’re dealing with a dragonlord here. It’s not a matter of fighting. If we fight, we’ll lose. Our job is to make sure Mr. Swain and the rest of the TriMedica staff remain safe. So don’t do anything stupid, be respectful, and above all keep your mouths shut. Don’t give Semangelaf a reason to decapitate you.” I looked around. That last sentence had gotten their attention pretty well.
    All of us went outside to greet the dragonlord. The morning dew on the perfectly manicured lawn dampened the hem of my pants. The scent of rich soil mixed with smog.
    A lone dragonlord stood on his amphitere, a legless twin-winged dragon that hovered in the air. He held on to a leash, although perhaps “leash” wasn’t exactly the right term. It looked more like a strap to keep him from falling off his mount. It seemed superfluous, somehow. The man—well, the demigod—radiated a presence that made it impossible to imagine him falling.
    The morning sun cast harsh light into the golden orange sky. With each stroke of the amphitere’s wings, gusts of air blasted against us.
    Whatever I had been expecting, this really wasn’t it. Where were the other dragons? The entourage? The fireworks?
    As we walked toward him, the amphitere coiled its tail and settled onto the ground. Semangelaf jumped down lightly.
    Long blue hair flowed from his scalp like a turquoise waterfall. His skin was so pale I couldn’t tell where it ended and his white robe began. He had bottomless silver eyes with