Page 28 of Fanged Temptation

And then I… pulled back.

Heart racing, guilt roiling, confusion addling my mind.

The dinghy swayed violently at the sudden movement and I gripped the edge of the bench.

“We should, uh–” I cleared my throat, scratching at the back of my neck. “I should probably finish collecting those samples.”

Maxine blinked, once. She let out a shaky laugh, and I pretended not to notice how her cheeks had flushed pink. “Yeah,” she said, shifting her gaze to the water, positioning the hat back on her head. “That sludge isn’t going to bottle itself.”

I fumbled with the motor, hating how my face burned at the very obvioussomethingbetween us that still buzzed in the air.

“By the way.” I tried to laugh, but my voice wavered. “I lied earlier, my hands were not clean and there’s-algae-on-your-dress-I’m-sorry.”

“What!?”

13

Maxine

“Ouch!” I nicked my finger on the fish hook I was fiddling with and promptly stuck the injured digit in my mouth. It was all patched up in two seconds flat, a la vampire healing, and I dumped the offending hook back into Leah’s tackle box with a sigh.

“Serves you right for snooping through my stuff.” Leah tittered from across the small living room, messing about in another box of doodads.

“I wasn’t snooping!” I sat back in the creaking wicker chair, folding my arms indignantly. “God forbid I try to take an interest in your interests.”

Leah looked up from the box she was rummaging in. “You’re interested in fishing now?”

“Not anymore.” I sniffed, sliding the tacklebox away with my foot. “My pride and my pinkie finger have been wounded.”

She rolled her eyes, shoving a collection of odd sciency devices into her gym bag and shrugging it over her shoulder. “Well, there’s a rod in the back if you change your mind. I’ll beout at the aquarium all day so you’ll have to find some way to entertain yourself.”

“I have the latestVanity Fairand a date with a curling iron.” I gestured to the glossy magazine lying open on the couch. Leah had been kind enough to grab me a copy on her way home from work, and I was clever enough to always keep my curling iron in my purse in case of emergencies. “I think I’ll be fine without your fishing rod.”

“All right then.” Leah was only half listening, already heading for the door. “Just don’t burn the boat down while I’m gone.”

“No promises!” I called after her, pinging up from the chair and waving as she stepped off the boat, a smile plastered on my face. “And tell Rachel I say hi!”

Her groan carried across the water and she gave a noncommittal wave over her shoulder, stomping along the jetty in her decrepit boots.

The moment Leah disappeared out of sight a hush fell over the boat, and with it, the buoyant mask I’d worn for her sake slipped off. My hand sank to my side, and the smile I’d forced onto my face dissolved, leaving in its wake the worry that had been gnawing at me since the day I’d faced that wax woman in the alleyway.

I stared at the magazine on the couch, a glossy beacon of distraction, my curling iron poking out of my purse. Normally, I’d revel in a moment like this: alone on the water, free to indulge in a bit of self-care, maybe even try out some new look that might impress Leah when she got home.

But the weight pressing on my chest wouldn’t allow such luxuries.

It washim. Gregor. He was here, skulking around the city, if that wax monstrosity was any indication. A twisted scout, or a warning, or whatever horrifying half-measure he’d used to trackme down. My stomach churned at the memory of that gurgling voice, those empty glass eyes staring up at me from the gutter.

Instinct said to run again. Take off, vanish before Gregor could come knocking on this door and put Leah in danger. Let her wake up tomorrow, confused and probably hurt, but safe – spared from the shadows that clung to me. She wouldn’t have to watch me face down old demons, or end up a casualty in the process.

And yet… I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to her a second time. The thought of leaving her now, after we had slowly rebuilt the bridge between us, felt like digging a hole in my chest and walking away without my heart.

She had welcomed me back into her life with cautious warmth, nursed me through bouts of terror I tried so hard to hide. She gave me a place to sleep, a reason to stay, a sense of belonging in a world that had suddenly become far too lonely.

It would be downright selfish to stay, knowing the danger lingering on the horizon, but leaving felt even more cruel.

I glanced around the small, cozy living area. The evidence of our makeshift life together was everywhere: the pile of marine biology journals Leah had thrust at me, insisting I “broaden my literary horizons”, the stray knit blanket I’d wrapped around myself last night – a relic that once belonged to Leah’s grandmother.

Every detail whispered a promise of something good, something genuine that I was downright terrified of ruining.

---