Page 13 of Fanged Embrace
Laurie made a soft sound of protest, but she didn’t put upmuch of a fight as I tucked her against my chest, one arm against her back and the other swept under her knees.
I shot a pointed look at the other two—a look that said I wasn’t budging on this. “Let’s get out of here.”
Dylan grumbled under her breath but didn’t argue further. Amara shot me a questioning glance but then went on to scout ahead, and soon enough we were slipping out of the ruined Ikea with one shivering addition to our party.
The diner we ended up at was the kind of place that never closed, with cracked vinyl seats and a lingering scent of burnt coffee. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was pretty much empty, and that was good enough.
Laurie had found her voice about halfway there, and wriggled out of my arms with a few sharp curses. But she didn’t bolt. She allowed me to guide her into the diner, though she kept her head swiveling between the three of us all the while.
I ushered her into a booth and she immediately curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her middle. Her exhaustion was written all over her face but she still managed to maintain a defiant—albeit slightly panicked—glare.
I slid in across from her, cautious and quiet. “You all right?”
She eyed me warily. Her gaze slid to Dylan and Amara hovering at the end of the table and then migrated back to me—brimming with suspicion. “What do you think?”
Fair enough.
Dylan and Amara slid into the booth beside me, the former still scowling profusely and the latter sneaking concerned glances at Laurie like she wanted to check her over for injuries.
Laurie, meanwhile, seemed just as confused as she was distrustful. She watched the three of us and we watched herright back, and the only sound in the room was the radio warbling out a pop song from a bygone era.
“All right.” I exhaled eventually, ending the cold war across the table with what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “Wanna tell me what the hell you were doing back there?”
Laurie tensed, and her eyes flicked briefly around the room like she was scoping out the quickest exit route. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“You first,” I said gently, placing my hands flat on the table where she could see them.
She didn’t speak right away, just stared at me like she was trying to gauge my intentions. It was the kind of stare that made me wonder how many lies she'd been fed in the past—and how many she'd believed. Or hadn’t, and suffered for it.
Beside me, Amara shifted slightly. She hadn’t said much yet—her worry came in softer shapes. Subtle glances, the furrow of her brow, the way her hand hovered a little too close to Laurie’s side of the booth, like she was afraid the girl might shatter any moment.
It made sense. Amara had seen that kind of fear before. She hadfeltthat kind of fear before. When she’d first learned what Dylan really was—a vampire, a powerful one—she’d nearly fallen apart. She probably saw some version of herself in Laurie, and it made her ache.
That was probably why she was keeping her mouth shut, too. She was hellbent on hiding her fangs.
Without a word, Amara slid one of the laminated menus across the table toward the human woman. She flipped it open and tapped a finger next to the listing for bottomless diner coffee, then looked at Laurie with a small, hopeful lift of her brows.
Laurie stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Her expression didn’t soften—in fact, it sharpened. She raised abrow, suspicious and scorned, and then slumped deeper into her seat.
Amara looked quietly crushed.
Laurie noticed.
She turned her face toward the window, jaw clenching. I didn’t miss the way her shoulders curled inward, like she was trying to hide from her own guilt. She looked pissed off—but not at us. At herself. Like she'd caught the instinct to apologize and wanted to take it out back and shoot it.
“Look,” she muttered eventually, “the three of you being nice doesn’t mean I’m gonna drop my guard. I know what you’re doing. I know what you're really up to.”
Dylan, predictably, narrowed her eyes and glanced at me. “What the hell is she talking about?”
I waved a hand, brushing her aside without looking. My attention was locked on Laurie. “What are we really up to, exactly?”
Laurie’s brows flicked upward like I’d asked a trick question. “You’re working forthem, right? The organization? Look, I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing but?—”
I tilted my head. “What organization?”
Laurie paused and studied me for a beat, like she was watching for cracks in my confused expression. She expected a facade—so I gave her transparency.
I spread my palms skyward and held her gaze. “Look, this isn’t an interrogation. If you don’t want to tell us what you were doing snooping around a crime scene, that’s fine. But we’re not part of whatever organization you’re referring to.”
