Page 21 of Fang (Lotus MC: San Antonio #2)

S tepping out of the building, I can’t help but smile. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, it’s a beautiful day outside, and I don’t have any more classes for the day. I have several hours before I have to leave for work, where I’ll see Fang.

Fang.

That man…

It’s been a week since things have changed between us, and it’s been perfect.

I see him every night I’m scheduled to work, and when I’m not, he makes sure to come and see me.

Even though coming over to see me is out of his way.

When he comes, he brings me coffee or tea, and sometimes food.

Then he holds me close, touching me every chance he gets.

And the kissing.

So much kissing I had to change lip balm brands because I felt like my lips were becoming chapped even though I was constantly reapplying. When we aren’t making out, we’re getting to know each other.

For the first time in possibly ever, I’m happier. Happier than I have ever been, and it’s overwhelming in the best kind of way.

When he’s not around, I want him to be. I want to text him and see what he’s doing. I want him to call so I can hear his voice. He’s the first and last thing I think of every day, and I love it.

Maybe I should go grab my work bag and head in early. See if maybe he can sneak away for a little while and we can go to that diner he likes…

With the idea firmly taken hold, I change course and head toward my dorm room. I make it about halfway there when I hear him.

“Stinky Cami!” someone drawls.

Just hearing that old nickname makes my skin crawl. Goddamn Zak. I thought we were past this. I know I should keep walking, but my feet refuse to move.

Before I know it, he’s standing in front of me with nothing but hatred in his eyes.

“A biker, huh?” he sneers.

I don’t bother to respond. Maybe if I don’t, he will run out of steam and leave me the hell alone.

“I knew you were a whore like your mother. You probably let him and his buddies run a train on you.”

All my good intentions of keeping my mouth closed go out the window when he compares me to my egg donor.

“I’m nothing like her, and we both know it. If I was, I would have slept with you like she has.”

“Why you…”

I cut him off before he can continue. “Seriously, though, what’s your fucking obsession with me, Zak?

I’ve dealt with your shit for more than a decade.

I’ve been turning you down since high school.

When are you going to stop? When I get a restraining order?

You’re aware I could get one, right? You are the one who’s constantly seeking me out, not the other way around.

I go out of my way to avoid you when you purposely hunt me down. ”

“It’s not like that.” He scoffs, shifting from side to side.

Ignoring him, I look over his shoulder at his posse. “As far as I’m concerned, you guys aren’t any better. Do you even try to stop him from approaching me? What if I was your sister? Would you keep encouraging him then?”

“Now wait a minute,” one of them says.

“No, this has gotten out of hand. I’m telling all of you that if Zak Brohan approaches me one more time, purposely calls my name to get my attention, I will be going to the dean and the police department to file harassment and stalking charges.

” I look at Zak again. “And for the record, I still have all the emails you sent me in high school to corroborate my story.”

Sick satisfaction fills me when he pales and takes a step back.

That’s right, buddy. I have four years’ worth of emails that you sent me. Ones that list every single thing you would like to do to me.

“You’re a fucking cunt, Cami,” he says before spinning on his heels and storming away.

Only as he walks away do I realize how fast my heart is racing. Raising my hand, I rub my chest. That was long overdue. Once he’s out of sight, I start heading toward my dorm.

Five minutes later, I step inside.

“Hi,” I say to the girl behind the desk.

Instead of greeting me like she used to, though, she glares. Something she only started doing after the first time Fang came up. I want to call her out, but I get it. The guy’s fucking hot.

Instead of taking the elevator up to my floor, I take the stairs two at a time. I’m slightly out of breath by the time I make it to my door. That’s why I miss it at first.

With the key in the lock, I freeze at the note pinned to my door. Whore is spelled out in big block letters that are done in a dark red.

My heart drops to the floor, and I feel lightheaded.

Don’t pass out, Cami.

I force my eyes to read the rest of the note.

WHORE!

YOU THINK YOU’RE PERFECT WHEN YOU’RE NOT! I KNOW THE TRUTH. CONFESS TO YOUR SINS BEFORE I MAKE YOU. THE CLOCK IS TICKING.

TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK.

What. The. Hell. Is. This?

With a shaky hand, I rip the note off the door. I look both ways down the hall and find it empty. Not even a single person lingering.

I twist the handle and rush into my room. I slam the door behind me and flip the lock. Quickly, I scan the room, even going as far as looking in my closet andunder my bed, looking for someone who’s not there.

Breathing hard, I rest the note on my desk.

Fang. I should call Fang.

As soon as the thought enters my mind, I push it away.

No, this is my problem, not his. This is just someone playing a sick prank on me. Probably Zak. That’s it. Nothing is going to happen. Or at least I hope not. I guess time will tell.

It’s Friday night and the place is packed, and something is wrong.

It’s clear by the way Cami dances. Her movements are robotic.

Almost as if she’s on autopilot. Sure, she looks good and the crowd is eating it up, but I’ve watched her enough to know that she’s not into it.

Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll find out just as soon as she gets off the stage.

Not even halfway through the song, a crowd of loud assholes walks through the door.

I make eyes with Quick, the bouncer for tonight, and he nods, silently acknowledging that he needs to keep an eye on them. My eyes go back to the group of guys, and one stands out. He looks familiar, but I can’t place why.

Who is he, and why do I know him?

“Holy shit, it’s Stinky Cami!” the asshole shouts.

I push off the wall and head right toward him. It’s the same motherfucker that harassed us when I met her on campus. His name started with a Z.

Zane. Zeke. No, Zak. It’s Zak.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Cami fall. I turn about to head in her direction when Happy calls me off.

“I got her!” Happy tells me as the lights dim.

Changing course once again, I head toward the asshole.

“Boo! Come on, Cami, show us what you got!” he heckles.

Before he can react, I’m on top of him. With one hand I grab him by the collar, and with the other I punch him. I can feel his nose crunch under my knuckles, and while that would normally please me, tonight it’s not enough.

“What the fuck!” he gasps as he tries to pry me off of him.

I draw him closer. “I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my girl.”

His eyes widen when he realizes who has him.

That’s right, motherfucker.

One of his friends goes to try to remove me from him but fails when Prospect One steps in the way.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Prospect One says lightly.

“Well damn, I would come around more often if I knew it was this interesting around here,” Kermit goads as he cracks his knuckles. “Are we rolling heads or what?”

“Answer me. Did I or did I not tell you that if you came around again, you would be mine?” I ask, shaking the dipshit in front of me.

“She’s just a two-bit whore. Why do you care?”

Before he can run his mouth anymore, I’m hitting him. Over and over and over. I don’t stop until I feel someone grab the back of my neck.

“Enough. Let us take care of the trash. You have bigger fish to fry right now,” Kermit says harshly.

I stare down at the man beneath me, who’s out cold. When the hell did we move to the floor?

Shaking my head, I let him go and stand up. Turning I face Kermit. “You got him?”

He nods. “I got him. Go clean up.”

I push past one of Zak’s cronies and head toward the bathroom. Quickly I scrub my hands clean of blood. I check myself over in the mirror and see that I have a small splatter of it on my chin. I wipe that off too with a paper towel.

That’s as good as it’s going to get.

Leaving the restroom, I head down the hall toward my office. “How is she?” I ask Happy who stands guard outside the door.

“She’s fine. Her knee was scraped, but she’s good. Physically, at least, emotionally…” He trails off.

“I got her. Thanks, brother,” I tell him as I step past him.

I step into the office, and my eyes immediately find her. She’s curled up in a ball, sitting in my chair behind my desk, silently crying. Rounding the desk, I drop to my knees and turn the chair toward me. I hear the door click shut but pay it no mind.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chants.

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“This is all my fault,” she sobs.

“What’s your fault?”

She just shakes her head as she cries, refusing to make eye contact, which pisses me the fuck off.

It’s almost as if she thinks she did something wrong. Like she’s the one in trouble, which is fucking ridiculous. She didn’t do shit.

“Talk to me,” I demand.

Tears fall down her cheeks. “I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

“Then quit.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that easy for me. You know that. I have to pay tuition and room and board. That’s just on top of my other bills.”

Reaching up, I cup her face and wipe her tears with my thumbs. “Little dancer, we both know you aren’t happy here. Shit, I’ll give you whatever the hell you want. I will gladly pay for all that shit if it means you’re safe and happy. Your mental health means more than some fucking bills.”

She rips her face from my hands and rolls the chair back away from me. “No, I can’t let you pay my way. I have to do it. I have to. I won’t be your responsibility!” she sobs.

I close my eyes and sigh. I know Cami is prideful and doesn’t want to be indebted to anyone. I get it, I do, and usually I would agree, but this is different. Yeah, we are new, but I know there is no one else for me.

It’s her or no one.

I just have to convince her that I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. I’ll have to be patient and show her that relationships are all about give and take and this is just something she’s going to need to take.

Standing, I grab her and pull her into my arms. She completely breaks down as I hold her tight. I tip my chin and kiss the top of her head.

“I’m sorry. I get it,” I lie. “We’ll figure it out.”

“P-promise?”

I kiss the top of her head again and tighten my hold on her. “I promise. Now come on, how about we get out of here, huh?”

She pulls back slightly but doesn’t break out of my hold.

She wipes her tears and nods. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, then come on. Let’s get you dressed and then figure out where we’re going after that.”

She leans up and kisses me softly. “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, little dancer. Nothing.”