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Gerald said something quietly in her ear, and she stopped struggling, blowing a rogue hair from her face, her murderous gaze focused on me. Or more accurately, Colton’s arms around me.

Although I didn’t like the embrace, not one bit, I flashed what I could only guess was a bloody smile at her.

Sharon stood in the center of our makeshift fighting ring, her face flushed, eyes darting between the two of us before narrowing on Angela. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her tone was low, dangerous, one I hadn’t heard from her before. Even the time I dented her Mercedes before I got my driver’s license. Or when I set fire to a small portion of their woods while trying to smoke grass.

This was a warning, faint in volume yet menacing. It even made the hairs on my own arms stand. Colton’s arms twitched around me.

Angela shrank back at it, a flush of red painting her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” She hung her head.

Angela was at least smart enough to be afraid of Sharon Hughes. Or understood that she could have her banished from Dreadwood Falls with only a handful of words, banned from every country club in the state, could strip her of all her social cache. Angela wanted her approval. No, she didn’t just want her approval; she wanted to be her. It was all a bit Jerry Springer for me, but like the show, it was damn amusing. I loved seeing her desperation, her immediate surrender.

“You could’ve hurt her,” Sharon hissed.

My spine stiffened at Sharon’s tone—chastising, furious. As much as I liked the woman, I did not take well to being scolded. Sharon did not have that right over me. Then again, I had started a fistfight in her home.

But then I realized she was still talking to Angela.

I took that as an opportunity to step out of Colton’s arms. Or attempt to. When I first tried, his grip tightened, and I looked up at him with a glare. Our faces were far too close, just inches apart, his breath smelling of whiskey in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant.

“Let me the fuck go, Colton,” I bit out, face throbbing, mouth still tasting of old pennies.

He did, but only after a beat more of odd, prolonged eye contact.

My blood was still pumping from the fight. It wasn’t from the eye contact, the arms around me, or the subtle cologne now coating my clothing.

“She could not have hurt me,” I addressed Sharon, who was still in a weird stare-off with Angela. “It’s insulting that you’d even say that. And I started it. So if you want to punish anyone … well, still punish her because she’s a bitch, but I want some credit too.”

Angela gifted me with a feral glare, which warmed my heart. Being hated by someone I disliked was as comforting as a warm hug.

“I’m not entirely pleased with you for punching my future daughter-in-law in the face.” Sharon regarded me without a smile but also without that strange coldness on her face that had been present “Though now I have a little more understanding as to why you treat black eyes so flippantly, guessing you have one every other week.” A small upturn to her mouth spread joy across my skin.

I couldn’t help but grin back. “I’m no stranger to a shiner, that’s something to be sure of.”

Sharon nodded sadly. “Not something to be proud of, my dear.”

I didn’t reply since I couldn’t say they were in fact something to be proud of because they meant I didn’t die.

“Well,” Gerald cleared his throat. “A fight is one way to end a dinner. At least no one broke anything.” As ever, the peacemaker. And always unflappable. I wondered if his composure would be rocked if faced with a werewolf he couldn’t explain away or a vampire with elongated fangs and hungry eyes on his throat.

But I never, ever wanted that composure to be tested. Despite my complicated feelings for the Hughes family, all I wanted for Gerald, Sharon, and Colton was to be blissfully ignorant of the monsters that lived among them.

Angela I wouldn’t mind becoming a vampire’s midnight snack.

“And I think I’ll take my leave.” I did a faux curtsy. “It was a lovely dinner, and almost impeccable company.” I gave Angela a pointed look, hocking more blood onto the tiles. “And I wish you a long and happy marriage.” I nodded to Colton. “She’s a winner.” I gave him a thumbs-up.

“I’ll walk you out,” Colton said, much to his fiancée’s obvious fury, which was the only reason I relented.

I finger-waved to her over my shoulder, Colton’s hand on my lower back as he guided me inside.

She treated me to one more glare before Sharon approached her, whispering something I couldn’t hear, seeing Angela’s chin dip damn near to her chest.

“You didn’t have to punch her,” Colton murmured to me, hand still on me as we walked through the house.

“Oh, but I did,” I replied, storing that weird interaction in the back of my mind for later inspection. Though I wasn’t an expert on what counted as normal, I was pretty sure that wasn’t it. “It’s a code of mine. I punch bitches who get in my face or defame my character. There are plenty of true abhorrent things she could’ve said about me.”

“What did she say?” Colton’s step faltered, voice tight with anger.

I rolled my eyes at the protective lilt to his tone and idly wondered why he was directing it toward the old girlfriend instead of the current fiancée. I could’ve asked why, but it seemed too messy a question. My life was plenty messy, thank you very much.