Free Lana by R.K. Lilley Page B

didn’t even count.   So you fucked my man!”   As she spoke, her nail jabbed hard into my chest several times to emphasize her point.
      My eyes widened.   So they had been broken up when he’d made love to me the first time.   I hadn’t been sure of that, after overhearing a conversation they’d had the day after he’d been with me.   The idea that he’d lied to me about something like that had haunted me for years.   I was so relieved to find that he really hadn’t lied.  
      I just looked at her steadily, determined to pretend her sharp pokes didn’t sting like a bitch.   “Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?   If someone breaks up with you, that is called being broken up .   You don’t have to agree to it for it to count.”  
      Her eyes widened and I saw the moment her crazy switch snapped on, her eyes going wild, her fingernails flying at my face.  
      I’d never been in a fight before, but I’d seen quite a few of them, and I’d always looked down on the girls that used their nails, or went for the hair.   I had always told myself that if I ever had to fight somebody, I’d use my fists, goddammit.  
      It was pure instinct that had me slapping my hand to her forehead before those mean nails could reach my face.   I was taller, so my reach was better.   It was that simple.   But it hurt like crazy when she started scratching at my arm like a wild animal.   I fisted my free hand, almost excited to try my first real punch on somebody.   Especially since that someone was Milena.   I swung at her face, since her cheek was practically asking me to.   It was pointing right at me.  
      It didn’t knock her out cold, unfortunately, as I’d been sort of fantasizing it would.   It didn’t really even slow her down.   I made solid enough contact that it hurt my hand, but it only seemed to piss her off more, if that was possible.  
      She finally got ahold of my hair, in spite of my better reach.   She yanked a hunk out, hard, calling me every nasty name in the book.   I had a few choice words for her as well, the most prevalent one starting with a C.
      I punched her again, in the head that time.   Oww.   That one definitely hurt my hand more than it hurt her head.   I quickly resorted to hair pulling, my punching skills sorely lacking.  
      I gripped the top of her hair, trying to ignore what she was doing to my arm, even though it hurt like hell.   I had a sudden spark of inspiration.   My fists were a no go, but my knee might be hard enough to do some damage.   I bent my injured elbow, pulling her a little closer, and raising my knee up into her stomach with the same motion.  
      Score! I thought.   It knocked the breath out of her, and I did it again, just because my arm was wet with blood from her evil claws, and it still hurt like a motherfucker.  
      I was getting ready to knee her again when she was torn away from me.   I met Akira’s frantic eyes as he grasped her around the middle, pulling her away from me.   His eyes ran over me, widening when he saw the bloody scratches that covered my arm.   He cursed as he pulled her farther from me.  
      Big arms wrapped around me from behind.   I realized that it was some man who thought I was going to try to attack Milena even after she’d been pulled off me.   I hadn’t even considered the idea.   I saw Akira’s eyes as the man put hands on me.   It was a scary sight.   They went from frantic, straight to bat-shit crazy, his own crazy switch snapping on.   Akira was about to blow.   He spared one of the arms holding a furiously struggling Milena to point it at the man directly behind me.   “Get your fucking hands off her!” he barked at him.   The man released me instantly.  
      Akira eyed the crowded bar, his look a warning.   “If anyone else lays so much as a fucking finger on her, I’m going to jail tonight!” Akira shouted to the room at-large before pulling his