Page 91 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

The cat paused mid-lick and yawned wide, showing every razor-sharp tooth. Then she hopped down and padded straight to Jackson. She rubbed her head and cheeks against his leg, scent-marking him thoroughly while holding Lia’s gaze the entire time.

Mine.

Jackson either didn’t notice the tension or chose to ignore it. He scratched behind her ears. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. Shift back for me, yeah?”

She huffed dramatically but turned toward the stairs. As she passed Lia she threw one last contemptuous glance over her shoulder.

Upstairs I took control again and shifted back. The change flowed through me until I stood naked in the middle of the room.

Jackson crossed the space in two strides and pulled me against him. His mouth claimed mine in a hungry kiss, heat surging between us.

“Morning, baby,” he murmured against my lips, grinding his hard length against my stomach.

“Morning,” I whispered. I kissed him deeper, then pulled back just enough to look at him.

“Just so we’re clear, I would’ve won that fight.”

“With Lia?” He smiled against my neck. “She's harmless. Just protective. For years it's been me, Jason, Rick, and her. Give her time. Once she gets used to you, she'll come around.”

I hummed, tilting my head to give him better access. I didn’t push. I had my doubts, sharp and persistent, but I kept them to myself. Telling him wouldn’t help right now. Not when he still saw her as the friend who had stood by him through the worst of his father’s bullshit.

He kissed my neck slowly.

“You’re mine. That’s what matters. She’ll see it eventually.”

I let myself believe him for the moment, sliding my hands up his chest.

“Good. And just so you know, I don’t share.”

His smile was slow and thoroughly satisfied.

"Neither do I."

Chapter 28: No Self-Preservation

The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and melted chocolate. Snow drifted past the windows in thick lazy flakes while a Christmas song played softly from the radio near the fridge. Mom stood at the stove stirring pancake batter, still wearing her fluffy pink slippers and oversized sleep shirt. Harmony sat on the counter beside the mixing bowls, shoveling chocolate chips into her mouth whenever Mom looked away.

“You’re disgusting,” I told her, reaching for the bag.

Harmony smacked my hand away. “Get your own.”

“Mom!” I pointed accusingly. “She’s eating all of them again.”

Mom laughed without turning around. “Then maybe stop tattling and help me cook before your sister finishes the whole bag.”

I rolled my eyes and moved beside her anyway, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate.

Harmony gasped dramatically. “Thief.”

“Cry about it.”

The warmth pressed softly against my skin. The radio crackled. Snow drifted outside. Then the light changed. At first I barely noticed it. The kitchen glow deepened from soft yellow to orange, shadows stretching strangely across the cabinets. Heat brushed the back of my neck.

I turned. Smoke rolled across the ceiling.

For one disorienting second both kitchens existed at once. Mom still stood at the stove smiling faintly. Harmony still sat on the counter swinging her legs. But underneath it was something else. Burned curtains. Blackened walls. The table overturned on its side.

Then the first kitchen vanished. Heat slammed into me hard enough to steal my breath. I stumbled backward, coughing violently as flames roared across the ceiling. The chair behind me collapsed in burning splinters when I hit it.