Page 53 of Fangs and Fudge

I blew out a breath. “I cut my finger making fudge. He licked it to heal it. That’s all.”

“And your lips.”

I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore. Like a coward, I looked to the side at the hedgerow.

“He kissed me,” I mumbled.

“Do friends kiss?” Shepard asked.

I knew he had me there, and I wanted to swear. If I said yes, Shepard would think I was under Cross’ influence; and if I said no, I’d be admitting Cross wasn’t a friend like I’d claimed.

“Some friends do,” I said finally.

“Really?” Shepard asked.

He captured my chin with one hand.

“Am I your friend, Everly?”

Before I could answer, his lips covered mine. Thoughts of why I shouldn’t allow it fled at the gentle way he licked my bottom lip and coaxed me to respond.

Just as I gave in to the kiss, leaning into Shepard as he softly growled his response, a noise from the doorway startled me. As I stepped back, Shepard’s fingers dragged over my skin. His hand remained lifted in the air between us, grasping nothing, and he looked like he was two seconds from closing the distance again.

I glanced at our audience.

Vena marched straight for me with MC following in her wake. Her gaze missed nothing. Especially not the delay between when I stepped away and when Shepard’s hand returned to his side. But her expression was surprisingly closed off, leaving me to guess whether I’d get scolded or a pat on the back for kissing him.

When she reached me, she slipped her arm through mine and gave it a small tug.

“We have to go,” she said. “Errands.”

Errands? I gave her a questioning look, but the narrow-eyed gaze she sent back had me nodding.

“Right. Errands.” I glanced at Shepard. “We’ll see you at work.”

“You’re not leaving,” he said.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“Everly, you just told me about a vampire who's been visiting you. Do you really think I’m going to let you two wander out of here with no protection? Vampires can’t be trusted. Even with the smallest feeding, he can command you to his side at any time.”

“Vampire?” MC questioned. He stared directly at Vena. “Let us help you.”

Ignoring him, Vena leaned in and whispered, “Why did you tell him about Cross?”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Shepard folded his bulging arms over his chest as he eyed the two of us.

Vena sighed and met his gaze. “Listen, I’m sure we have the same opinion of vampires. The only good vampire is a dead vampire. But for whatever reason, Cross is different. It took me a while to trust him, but I do.”

“How do we know you haven’t been enslaved like Sierra?” Shepard said.

Vena frowned. “First of all, I haven’t been fed on. Second, she’s a lunatic who is trying to find her master in the bushes. That you would even put us in the same classification as Sierra is insulting. You know better than anyone what being enslaved looks like. Have we ever exhibited any of the signs?” She ticked her fingers as she said, “No obsessive behavior. No loss of appetite. No unwarranted explosive bouts of anger. No gaps in memory. And no unexplained absences.”

She waited for Shepard’s response.

He reached up and rubbed his jaw. Something he did when he was getting frustrated but trying to be reasonable.

“You said you trust me, Shepard,” I said. “If you really do, then believe I have the sense in knowing who to trust, too. I don’t hand it out like candy. He’s earned it. Like you.”

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