Page 80 of Monstrous Serpent

My fist flies at his face. “Go to hell.”

His hand wraps around my wrist mid-arc and shoves it aside. “Wasn’t me.”

Which I already know because the neighbor’s Ring camera only showed one person getting into the Ford truck. And Blue went with him like they were best friends. Apparently, my dog has zero loyalty.

I’m about to swing again when Blue barrels over, jumps up, and starts licking my forearm. My knees buckle, and I go down, arms wrapping around him as he licks my face, my neck, every inch he can reach. “Blue.”

Safe.

He’s safe.

“Mr. Smooshy, is that your real name?”

I turn toward the couch.

Trembley is sprawled across it, one leg up, arm draped over the back. He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “You should get him a tag with your contact info. What if he gets lost? I’d be devastated. Poor guy could end up with very bad people who won’t appreciate his smooshiness.”

I spring up, launch over the armrest, and slam into Trembley. “How about I tag your face instead?”

He barely covers up before I throw the first punch, my knees bracketing his hips. My next punch catches his side. He huffs and drops his arms.

This time I smack him.

His head snaps sideways, a red mark blooming across his skin. He just laughs and turns the other cheek. “This one’s feeling left out.”

“You two, don’t get blood on the couch.” Kincaid stares at us, then turns to Blue and crooks his finger. “You, let’s go.”

My upper lip twitches. “Don’t talk to my dog that way.”

Kincaid ignores me and walks away, Blue following at his heels.

Seriously?

I look back down at Trembley, who’s watching me. “What is your problem?”

He sits up so fast that I grab his shoulders to keep from falling backward. His face is just inches from mine, his breath warm against my mouth, those cognac-brown eyes drilling into me. “You are.”

My head tilts slightly, brows furrowed. “What?”

“You letting someone else's mouth on your pretty little dick is my problem.”

I press my lips together, but I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out. “You can’t be serious?”

His hand closes around my throat. “I don’t like others touching what’s mine.”

I grab his thumb and wrench it back. “You psychotic dipshit. It was fake. And my dick is not little.”

He wraps his arms around me, squeezing tight and trapping my arms. “What the hell do you mean fake?”

“Made it with an app.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been losing my fucking mind over a fake picture?”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Not funny.” Trembley’s eyes narrow. “You blocked us.”

“And you broke into my house.”