“He wanted to practice kissing?” I force down the bile rising in my throat at the thought of that little fucker’s lips on her.
“Yeah, he brought it up that night you picked me up in the snow,” she says, wiping her cheek. “I’m not sure it would help, though. This happened to me with every guy I dated in high school. As soon as they got close enough to make a move, I’d hit, kick, or laugh. I bruised more than just egos and developed quite the reputation, which has followed me here.”
“How so?” I lean back against the arm of the couch opposite her, folding my arms over my chest.
“So there’s this club, made up of my exes. It started in high school when a few of the guys I’d dated got together to swap stories about me. In order to save face, they all agreed that they’d tell everyone that they hooked up with me, even though none of them had.”
No wonder she doesn’t trust men. Between that and her abusive father, it explains why she has so many nightmares.
“And apparently, that reputation followed me here.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, the hair on the back of my neck prickling at her words.
“Do you remember after auditions?—”
“In the parking lot?” I cut her off, so she doesn’t have to relive that encounter. It was the same fucker, Trent, that confronted her on campus last year during spring break.
“Yeah, that guy was one of the guys I dated in high school.”
I nod, not letting on that she’s already told me about this as Daddy Dom. “What does that have to do with what happened on stage just now?” I ask hesitantly.
“So that night when it snowed, I was able to hold Jeremy’s arm when we walked across campus. And then I saw you. But the next morning there was another letter taped to my door. This one had my name on it where the others didn’t, and it freaked me out.”
Others? She’s been getting letters? I wait, letting her share more at her own pace. When she breaks into a sob, I walk over to her and sink onto the couch next to her, keeping space between us, but letting her know I’m here if she needs it. “What did the letter say?’
“It said, ‘I better not see you touch that guy again. You belong to me.’ Except it used more colorful language. I have no idea who sent it and… and…” She drops her head into her hands and sobs.
“You got this letter weeks ago?”
She nods and more tears spill over her long, thick lashes.
“And you’re worried that whoever sent it will see you touch Jeremy in the play and come after you?” I ask, and she nods her head. “Have you gotten any more letters since that last one?”
“No. But that’s why I’ve kept to myself. I haven’t been seen with anyone but Rylee and Megan on campus. I don’t want toupset whoever’s sending them. But I’m also kind of hoping he just moves on.”
“Have you contacted the police or campus security?”
“I called campus security after the last one, but it was a week later, and they were no help. The other letters were sweet and romantic, and I… I thought they came from someone else. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“Do you think it was that guy from the parking lot that sent the letters?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? But if he started a new chapter of the Emma’s exes club here, it could be anyone. Getting in my pants was almost like a game to them. Who could have me first?”
What in the actual fuck? How do I fix this? How do I keep her safe from this? For once the thought of chaining her to the cross in my private room at Pulse doesn’t seem like a bad idea after all. And because I’m a sick fuck and a glutton for punishment, the thought of having her first makes my cock swell in my slacks. I push down my lust, ashamed that I’m no better than the shitheads that taunted her in high school.
“I have a buddy in campus security. I’ll follow up with him about this. Can you send me a picture of the letter? At the very least Nate can file a report, and I can see if they can have someone patrol student apartments regularly.”
“Okay. Like text it to you?” she asks, sniffling.
Fuck, that would mean giving her my number, and she doesn’t know she already has it saved under a different name. “Just email it to me.”
——————
Emma
When I get back to my room, I take a picture of the letter and email it to Professor Ali. I don’t get a reply, but something in mygut tells me that he’s already taking care of this. There’s no logical reason for my feelings, but I haven’t really followed my logic when it comes to men these past two years—getting involved with a masked dom at a Pulse, dealing with my crazy ex and his friends on campus, and flirting with my super-hot professor.
Ever since I started doing the play with him, he’s seemed like a different person. The cold, stern A-hole who tormented me in class has been replaced by this warm, caring individual, almost like he likes me more now that I’m not his student.
