Chapter 12
FANG
I have a problem.
This problem is pretty, with purple hair, bright, expressive eyes, and an earthy sweet scent that makes my mouth water.
The problem is named Maeve Brooks, and she’s supposed to be my student.
She stands at the doorway to my office, tilting her head in confusion, worrying her lip.
I want to bite it.
Avery is going to kill me.
“I’m assuming you didn’t get my email,” I say, and she shakes her head.
“What email?” she responds.
“The one that said the music room has no power and that the quiz is moved to next week.”
“Nope.” She shrugs, then sets her guitar down against the doorframe. “I didn’t expect the second day of a class to be cancelled.”
I groan. “Neither did I,” I admit. “I hate doing that, and I’m sorry you had to show up here.”
The second part is a lie.
I’m thrilled that she showed up. I had sent the email to all the students as soon as I could and fully expected to not see her until next week, which would give me a few days to tamp down my Alpha instincts.
But now she’s here, in my office, her chamomile aroma the most potent I’ve ever scented it.
This time, though, there’s whiff of something else on her.
She’s been with another Alpha.
A low growl sounds in my throat, and I cover it quickly with a cough.
It shouldn’t matter.
This doesn’t matter.
She is my student.
She is—
“I’m going to fail your quiz,” she announces, and that stops my primal line of thinking.
“What? I doubt that.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “I don’t know shit about any of this,” she admits, and I chuckle at her bluntness. She peers over at the papers I was grading and makes a disgusted face. “And what the hell is that?”
“Advanced composition,” I murmur, amused.
“Like writing music?” she asks.
“That’s exactly what it is.” I grin.
“Avery said that you can compose music in your head,” she adds thoughtfully. “That you’re likely the smartest guy in the building, besides him.”
“I mean, he’s not lying.”
Now, it’s her turn to laugh. “And that you had a bit of an ego.”
“Just a little.”
I tell myself, as I look into her eyes, that helping her learn music can be enough.
I can ignore my Alpha instincts as long as I can bring this into her life.
“I can leave you alone,” she says. “If you’re busy.”
“Technically, it’s an office hour,” I say with a grin. “Feel free to sit.”
My office is already cramped, with my desk and chair in one corner and a piano keyboard across from it. Bookshelves line the opposite wall, with a second chair beside it.
She leans her guitar case against the wall, then grabs the chair and rolls it forward, thinning her lips as she digs through her messenger bag.
“I have questions,” she says, placing her notes on the desk, and I’m grateful the door to my office stays open, allowing a breeze in, so I’m not forced to drown in her sweet Omega scent.
I bite my tongue. I can still scent the other Alpha on her, and I want to ask her a thousand questions.
Are you looking for another Alpha? Do you have a pack yet?
“Ask away.”
Maeve doesn’t give herself enough credit, at all. She’s a quick learner with reading music, regardless of what she says. Looking at her work, she’s immediately grasped the basics of reading music notes in a treble clef.
“Flash cards help,” I tell her. “Eventually, you’ll look at a note and be able to name it immediately.”
She chews on the end of her pencil, her face scrunched as she stares at her work. “We didn’t even open our guitar cases last class. I was bummed.”
Yeah, we can’t be having that, sweetheart. I just want to make you happy.
“Fuck it. Let’s do it, then. Grab your case.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize professors swore so much.”
“They sure fucking do.”
She giggles, and I almost fall to my knees in front of her.
My inner Alpha is going wild, roaring in my ears and desperate to taste her.
Get. It. Together.
I move my chair from behind the desk and pull it next to hers.
Not too close, though. I don’t need to indulge in her scent; it will just make things more difficult.
My brow furrows when she takes out the acoustic guitar. “They rented you the worst one. This shouldn’t even be in the music lab anymore.”
She takes in the scuffs on the body and frowns. “It just means it was well-loved. I like the idea that maybe it absorbed all the passion from other musicians.”
I stare at her. “Oh. That’s…a great way to look at it.”
“I try.”
I direct her gently how to hold the instrument, and the best posture to use.
“You already looked it up, though,” I ask, “didn’t you?”
“Me and my boyfriend spent all weekend figuring it all out,” she says, strumming gently with her fingers. “I even did my best to learn how to read tabs, in case this theory stuff doesn’t work out.”
At the word boyfriend, my stomach sinks.
Of course she has a boyfriend. I scented him.
So, what the hell is my problem?
Maeve is here for music, not for me.
And she’s doubting herself, which is not a good sign.
She knows more than she thinks she does, and it’s impressive what she’s picked up in less than a week.
When I tell her as much, she wrinkles her nose. “If you say so. My fingers are kind of sore.”
“Calluses.” I hold out my hand, palm up. “You’re going to get them from this.”
She stares at my hand, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. “They look rough,” she says, her voice low.
I thought I was used to her scent by now, but I’m suddenly assaulted with a sweet, syrupy aroma.
I force myself to keep my breathing even, but if I didn’t know any better, I would think it’s her arousal.
This is a dangerous line to walk, I think to myself. Very dangerous.
“I really like your cat tattoo,” she says quietly. “I know I said it before, but it’s really stunning.”
I look down at the tattoo of Eevie, smiling to myself.
“Thanks. She really was the best. She’s actually the reason I go by Fang, now. Instead of Adrian.”
“What, really?”
“Yeah. When I was a kid, I would imitate her. I would meow, do the whole thing. When I would hiss, I would stick out my teeth, so my mom called me Fang and the nickname stuck.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how ridiculous they sound.
Smooth.
Maeve blinks, then her mouth falls open in delight. “Oh. I thought it was for a cool reason,” she teases.
“Hey! She was great.” I point to the tattoo. “I would have done anything for that damn cat.”
Her smile turns soft. “I know the feeling,” she sighs heavily. “I feel like half the time I’m worried about all the cats in the world at once.”
“Your brother said you work at a cat rescue.”
“I do. It’s the best job I’ve ever had. There’s always another cat to help, another cat to save.” Her expression falls. “Always more to do, and never enough time.”
I want to wipe that distant look off her face.
“So, you saw Stormie then, right?” I try.
She tilts her head curiously. “Who?”
“Round black cat, shaped like a bowling ball,” I say. “Usually hangs out around the music building. She’s easily spooked.”
Maeve’s amber eyes widen, and joy returns to her face. “Yes! I saw her earlier!”
“Well, that’s one less cat on earth you need to worry about. I helped TNR her. She’s fixed, vaccinated, and treated with flea medicine.” I grin.
She grows still for so long that I worry I’ve said something wrong. “You…you’ve trapped and released before?” she asks incredulously.
“Oh, yeah.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “My parents are huge cat people, and our old neighborhood had a colony problem every kitten season. My dad taught me how to trap growing up. Stormie definitely needed the help; I was happy to do it.”
“Wait…so would you say you’re a cat person?” she whispers.
I point to my tattoo. “Oh, definitely. I’ve done it all—fostered pregnant cats, bottle fed kittens, everything. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”
Maeve just blinks.
This was the card I was hoping to play once I got to know her better.
“Cats are the best. You have to earn their love and trust, and it’s worth it every time.” I grin. “And if Stormie ever allows it, I’m moving her in with me. Trust me, I’ve tried. She’s stubborn as hell, though. Got some battle scars to prove it, too.”
The room fills with the sweet scent of brown sugar.
Omega.
“I…I…” Maeve opens and closes her mouth, then shoots out of her chair. “I’m dropping your class. I’m sorry.”
“Wait. What?”
She hastily shoves her papers into her messenger bag as I stand. “I’ll leave the guitar with you. Thank you for everything.” When she hurriedly turns to head to the door, she bangs her thigh on the corner of the desk and hisses. “Shit. Ow.”
“Hold up. Maeve.” I stand in front of her, my arms outstretched. “Did I do something? Did I make you uncomfortable?”
I don’t know what caused her sudden change. I go through our conversations from the past hour, wondering what the fuck just happened.
At my question, she barks out a laugh. “No! No,” she breathes and winces. “Shit. I really hit that desk hard.”
“Yeah, you did,” I say slowly, holding my hands up in surrender. “Why do you want to drop the class?”
“I’m not a fast learner,” she says quickly. “I’ll waste your time. Ow.”
“That’s not true,” I say as she tries to hobble out of my office. “Shit, babe, sit down.”
Her eyes widen, and I freeze.
She didn’t miss the undercurrent of Alpha command in my tone, and I stare back at her, horrified.
Not only did I call her a pet name, without thinking, I attempted to speak to her inner Omega.
Oh shit.
Avery’s going to kill me.
“Maeve, I’m so—”
“Look,” she says breathlessly. “I’m just going to be honest with you, okay? I’m dropping your class because you’re a cat person.”
I blink. “What?”
“I liked you already,” she says, keeping eye contact, her chin held high.
“And now you’re telling me you’ve rescued cats?
This isn’t going to work.” She motions between us.
“I won’t be comfortable in your class if I’m this attracted to you.
And I’m sorry if that makes you feel awkward…
” She chews her lip and drops her hands in defeat.
“Yeah. That’s my speech, I guess. I’m dropping your class. Sorry I perved out on you.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. Her words swirl around in my head until there’s only a faint buzzing.
My attraction isn’t one-sided.
She likes me.
She’s attracted to me.
And if I don’t stop her, she’s going to walk out that door and go on with her life like we never met.
Absolutely not.
“Perved out on me?” I repeat, a smile tugging at my lips.
She scowls, her face flaming. “You know what I mean.” She purposely looks past me and to the door.
“All because I like cats?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes.
“Why couldn’t you just accept the other answer?” she sighs.
“Because you’re a quick learner and a damn liar.”
She sits back down in the chair, defeated. “Once my thigh stops hurting, I’m high-tailing out of it here,” she mutters. “I mean it. I’m dropping your class.”
I chew my lip, wondering if I should put everything on the line right here.
I know we’ve only spent a few hours together, but I’m sure if we were alone for long enough, we would scent match and you could let me into your heart. Then we can adopt a thousand cats together and I’ll teach you how to play guitar for them every night.
“I’m sorry I tried to tell you what to do,” I say honestly. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, defeated. “I liked it.”
My breath comes out in a whoosh, and my inner Alpha growls.
I lean against the doorway, breathing in the fresh evening air, gulping in every scent that isn’t Maeve.
Who the fuck was I kidding? I’ve wanted her since I saw her.
Keeping her in my class would just complicate things, and I don’t want to put her through some gross power imbalance all because she smells like heaven.
“Do you still want to learn music?” I ask softly, as she gently pats her thigh through her jeans.
I try not to stare, but her pale hands and small fingers make my throat tighten.
I want to be the one to do that for her.
She’s hurting. I could make it better.
But I just stand there helpless, watching while she touches the skin I so desperately want to taste.
Maeve nods. “I’ll figure it out,” she murmurs.
“I’ll give you lessons.”
The words tumble out of me before I can stop myself.
“You’ll do what?” Her eyes widen.
“Lessons. If you really want to drop the class, would you be comfortable if I just taught you how to play on your own time?”
Please say yes, I think.
If this is the last time I see or speak to her, I’m going to combust.
“I can’t afford it,” she says, shaking her head.
“Free of charge.”
I’ll teach her every instrument she wants, if she would just say yes.
“You’re insane,” she declares. “That’s insane. I know how much private lessons cost.”
“I don’t hear you saying no,” I counter, and she huffs, exasperated.
“I’m not. But what would I owe you in return?”
I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms. “Usually, when something’s free, it means there’s no payment,” I say, smirking.
Her eyes narrow. “I know that, smartass.”
“Smartass, huh?” I cock an eyebrow.
“You’re not my professor anymore; I don’t need to be on good behavior.” She grins.
And just like that, I fall a little harder.
“Fine,” I say, determined not to let her know how she affects me. “In return, you give me your time. And we can be friends.”
We both know that’s a lie; I can see by the suspicious look she gives me.
I don’t want to just be friends with Maeve.
I want to know everything about her.
“And I’ll keep an eye out for any stray cat I see,” I offer. “Then you’ll help me trap them and we will save them together.”
Her face brightens and a delighted smile crosses her features.
“It’s a pretty dirty trick to win me over with cats,” she warns me, and I simply shrug.
“Two minutes ago, I was about to never see you again. I’ll do what I have to.”
She holds my gaze, searching my eyes. “You have a deal, Fang.”
Relief washes over me, and my heart finally stops racing.
She’s not leaving—in fact, she’s mine for as long as it takes for her to learn music.
I’ll make sure it takes forever.