Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions Chapter 82

I wake with a start, the remnants of last night’s chaotic bullshittery still swirling around in my head like a storm that won’t quit. My mind feels heavy, and if I’m being honest, my body feels like I got hit by a Mack truck—*repeatedly*. But it’s Sunday, and despite everything, I refuse to let my mood spiral. *Not today, Satan.*

I turn over in bed, groaning as I feel the familiar discomfort of what feels akin to a hangover, except I didn't even drink much last night. Just too many emotions, apparently. So much emotional turmoil, really, that it’s like I woke up with a permanent frown on my face.

But hey, I’ll be fine. I’ve survived worse. So, I sit up, stretching out my sore limbs, and roll my neck with a series of pops that make me feel like I’m ten years older. It’s almost as if my body has been through some ancient battle.

With a fortifying breath, I decide that today is going to be about *me* and getting my mental health back to where I’m a woman who adults every now and then, with no broody vampires in sight.

My signature sass is already creeping back in, and I can’t help but smile, feeling the familiar sarcasm bubble up. The only thing I need to focus on today is myself, a little peace, and maybe a decent cup of coffee. Preferably two.

I shuffle down to the kitchen, where I know I’ll find the sustenance I need to face this day. I’m not a morning person, but coffee? Coffee has the ability to turn me into a semi-functional human. I fix myself a cup, slurping it down in record time. *Damn, I could have used a more potent brew, but it’ll do, for now.*

A second cup later, and I’m getting dressed. Maybe it’s the sunshine outside, maybe it’s just the realization that I’ve been so caught up in the drama of the past week that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a normal day. I toss on something cute. Nothing too fancy, but enough to make me feel like I'm putting some effort in for a change. A comfy mint green sweater, curve-hugging jeans, and ankle boots. A simple outfit for a trip to the farmer's market. I don’t know if I’ll buy anything, but it’ll be a change of scenery, and right now, that's exactly what I need.

The sun is shining, and it feels like a small victory, even if it’s the kind of victory that doesn’t actually fix the shitshow inside my head.

But, whatever. I’m not thinking about last night. I’m not thinking about *him*. I won’t let myself. Not right now, anyway. Not when my mind keeps trying to pull me into that whirlwind. No, today is *Harley-day*, not vampire-drama day.

I check my phone one last time for any important messages, throw my sling bag over my shoulder, and grab my keys. The moment my hand touches the doorknob, I hear the faintest of knocks.

*Weird*.

I freeze, my hand still clutching the doorknob. Who’s knocking at my door on a Sunday morning? Probably another person wanting to sell me something useless or tell me about some local cause. Great. I roll my eyes, debating whether I should ignore it.

But curiosity gets the best of me, and I swing open the door without thinking too much about it. And standing in the doorway, looking more like he’s prepared to wage war than have a civil conversation...is *Thane*.

His signature black-on-black suit is gone, replaced with something more casual—dark jeans, a black golf tee, and a leather jacket—but he still looks effortlessly intimidating.

Before I can open my mouth and ask him what the hell he’s doing here, he takes the two steps up onto my landing and comes to a standstill on the other side of my threshold with no warning or hesitation.

“Excuse me?” I say, trying to regain some sense of control over my space, my life, my *everything*. “What are you doing here, Thane?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks at me with an intensity that feels like it’s going to burn a hole straight through me. The heat between us is tangible, and I swear I can feel the air between us shift.

“I know you asked for space,” he says, his voice low, commanding—so completely *him*—as he takes half a step forward. “And I’ll wait however long you need, Harley. But give me today. *One* day to show you what it means to be MINE. After that, I’ll leave you alone for however long you need.”

His words are a growl, as if they come from deep within him, every syllable laced with an almost raw hunger.

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart beats wildly in my chest. He’s barely an arm’s length away now. His presence is consuming and overwhelming. And just like that, *everything* in my body comes to life. My pulse thudding beneath my skin, my body suddenly warming—all of it alive with something I can’t quite name.

He steps even closer, and the heat is suffocating in the best possible way.

My mouth opens, but no words come out. I want to argue. I want to push him away. But my body betrays me, and I feel the urge to step into him instead.

The air between us crackles with something I can't ignore. But I can't let him see how badly he's affecting me. Not when I know I need space. Not when I don't know if I can trust what he's saying—if I can trust *him*.

“What the hell, Thane?” I finally manage to say when my breath comes back to my lungs, though my voice is barely more than a whisper. “You just can’t walk in here and demand...”

His eyes narrow slightly, and before I can finish my sentence, he steps even closer, forcing my back to press against the stairs’ banister behind me so I can keep a semblance of distance between us. The air between us thickens, and I can barely breathe as the tension between us grows. It’s almost like the world outside my front door falls away, leaving just the two of us, locked in this magnetic space.

His voice is steady when he speaks, with no trace of hesitation. “I’m not going anywhere, Harley. Not today. I’m staying. I’m going to show you what this—” he gestures between us with a quick, intense movement “—means. I’m going to show you what we can be.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he continues, unbothered by my silence.

“And that means,” he adds with a hint of humor, “I’ll even follow you to the bathroom if I have to.”

I blink at him, trying to process what he’s just said. For a second, I can’t decide if he’s being serious or if he’s messing with me. And then an idea hits me. I cross my arms, leaning slightly back, my lips curling into a smirk. “Is that so? You’re planning to stalk me everywhere, huh?”

Thane’s gaze softens, a little too pleased with himself, and then he gives me a nod as if to say *‘exactly’*.

“Well,” I say, my voice dripping with my usual sarcasm, “if that’s how it’s going to be, maybe I’ll show you exactly how ridiculous I can be on a daily basis. Let’s see how long you last when I start challenging your patience.”

For a moment, the corners of his mouth twitch. But his resolve doesn’t waver.

“You think you can run me off, Harley?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. “I’ve survived centuries. I’m not scared of a little sarcasm and sass.”

And with that, I feel it. The pull. The gravity. I’m not sure if it’s the challenge or the undeniable attraction between us, but something about his words, about the way he stands there, so confident in his declaration, makes my chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

“Well, then we’ll just have to see who gets tired first, won’t we?” I say, forcing my tone to remain light, despite the storm swirling in my chest.

The heat between us is almost unbearable now, and even as I say the words, I wonder if I’ve just made a *massive* mistake. *I’m already letting him in, aren’t I?*  

He doesn’t back off, though. Instead, he leans just a fraction closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Then, let the games begin.”

At that, he takes a step back, his eyes still locked onto mine, and for a second, everything is silent. But I instinctively know it’s only the calm before the storm. But, there’s no backing out now.