Page 59 of Taken Off Camera
“Right.” Saint picks up the photo again, studying the cruel words scrawled across it. “And how long has it been since your channel went dark?”
“Almost two weeks.”
“How many of these gifts did you get before you stopped streaming?”
“One.”
“And since then?”
The trap in his questions becomes clear. “Three.”
“So stopping didn’t help.” Saint places the photo back on the table. “And instead of scaring this guy off, it pissed him off enough to escalate.”
“Apparently.”
“So you gave up your income, your independence, on Sebastian’s advice,” Saint continues, “and now you’re broke, alone, and still being stalked.”
Hearing it laid out makes me feel stupid. “You think I’m not aware?”
Saint sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “Why’d you quit camming, Micah? Really? Because the stalker scared you, or because that Alpha told you to?”
The question cuts close to a truth I’ve been avoiding. “Sebastian asked me to stop.”
“And you couldn’t say no to him.” It’s not a question.
I cross my arms to shield myself from his disapproval. “As I said, it was temporary. Until Travis was caught.”
“Sure it was.” Saint paces a tight circle, boot heels striking the floor hard enough to vibrate through my soles. “And did Security Consultant Boyfriend have any luck tracking down your stalker since telling you to shut down your income?”
His bitterness scrapes my raw nerves.
“Don’t bother getting angry.” I turn away, facing the kitchen where coffee rings stain the counter. “It’s over, anyway. He disappeared five days ago.”
“What the fuck?” Saint’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, his fingers hooking into the collar of my T-shirt and yanking it down to expose the full circle of teeth marks embedded in my nape.
The air hisses between his teeth as he stares at the Mark.
“What the fuck is this?” he repeats in a frightening whisper.
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. “Saint?—”
“That motherfucker Marked you?” he explodes in a roar. “I’ll fucking kill him!”
His face contorts with rage, flushing crimson as the veins in his neck stand out. He releases my shirt to pace, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides as if imagining them around Sebastian’s throat.
“You can’t kill him.” I tug the collar back into place, my palm covering the Mark. “I wanted it, Saint.”
He whirls on me. “Bullshit! You’ve known him, what, a month? And during your Heat? When you can’t consent?”
My voice rises to match his. “I invited him over for my Heat.”
“And did you consent to him fucking off right after?” Saint stalks closer, backing me into the wall. “Did you consent to him Marking you before abandoning you?”
The question hits like a physical blow. “No.”
“No,” he repeats, softening. “He claimed you like you were property, then left you alone with a stalker circling. Who does that, Micah?”
My mind flashes to the note Sebastian left, his horror-filled voice filling my memory through the haze of my Heat. He left, yes, and I’m furious. But I know it’s because he’s blaming himself for what happened. He thinks he took advantage of me, and he’s probably hurting even more than I am right now.
