Page 35 of Property of Camo

She wants more, and I do not think I can give her that.

Yet, the idea of someone else touching her, tasting her, and making her smile makes my blood boil.

“How is Skyla? No doubt she has already found herself another dick to ride; fuck, I could offer her mine,” Thorin says, grinning from his seat.

Without thought, I pull the knife from my ankle holder, stand, and launch the blade at him. With his stupid vampire reflexes, he catches the knife in his palm, and a trickle of blood seeps down, dripping on the table.

“CAMO, back down,” Pres bellows.

Leaning forward, my palms on the table, I glare at my brother, who is grinning at me.

“You touch her and I will fucking kill you, brother,” I growl. “We joke, we fuck around, but when it comes to touching something that belongs to me, you keep your fucking thoughts to yourself.”

“But she isn’t yours, though, is she, brother? We have discussed this before. You have to claim her. Just because you stick your dick in her does not mean she is yours. Otherwise, that would mean that you claim the club girls with the amount you have fucked them, and I am sorry, Camo but it does not work that way.”

“Stay away from Skyla. I fucking swear on my life; I will cut your head off.”

“Thorin, shut it. Camo, sit your ass back down,” Pres states.

I sit, keeping my laser focus on the man sitting opposite me.

“You have to claim Skyla, VP. She is free to fuck any other brother or man if she wants. You know what you need to do to stop all this bullshit, but your stubborn ass refuses to give in." My gaze snaps to Winger.

“You know why” is all I say.

“Camo, you are a chicken shit and you know it. Let her go then, let her live her life,” Oryn speaks up.

My gut knots, my chest gets tight. My soul is screaming at me to make her mine, but my head stops me.

What happened years ago taught me that having a mate, a lover, causes pain that is beyond imaginable. I had a friend, a fellow supernatural who fell in love, he found his mate.

They had nearly five years together. She was human; he was an elemental. In those five years, they had twin girls, who I adored as much as their parents. Then one day, it all came crashing down.

A lion shifter clan wanted him to use his powers to hurt another clan, and when he refused, they killed his wife, his soulmate, in front of him, making him watch as she died slowly, then they fed on the twins, who were two years old.

I had to watch one of my closest friends slowly die inside, as he buried his wife, and two empty boxes, as there was nothing left of his babies to bury.

I only had him for one more year after that, then he took his own life, leaving me and his family a letter saying that he needed to be with his heart.

I swore that day, standing behind his fresh grave at the cemetery, that I would never take a mate. The pain was something I never wanted to experience.

So I fucked. Being in the club helped me fuck my thoughts out of my head.

No words pass my lips in reply to Oryn; instead, I just stare at him. He sighs, shaking his head at me, then he focuses on Pres.

“Okay, moving on from this fucking gossip group. You will all be in attendance at the Halloween parade, join in, spread the good joy of the spirited season,” Pres states, then his eyes go white and he stares straight ahead, and we know that he is getting a vision.

We sit and wait until he is finished seeing what he needs to see. Winger being a seer has its advantages for being a president of a motorcycle club. He always has the advantage when a vision comes through. More times that I can count, it has helped us out.

Winger blinks, his eyes turning back to their normal green.

“What did you see?” I inquire.

A deep frown crosses his face, as he looks around the room.

“Fuck.” He rubs his hands over his face, then pushes his long hair back.

“The haunted house. A chick with long wavy dark hair, she was dressed in white. Go figure. Fuck knows what that means. I will look into it.”

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