Chapter 142
Chapter 142
Cora--
I’m still researching when Emory brings me lunch to Landon’s room. I pulled notes together on a few packs to get in touch with at first, but I’m looking for as many as I can find in case the first three fall through. There has to be a reason no one has reached out to the New York packs already. Sorry, the Alpha Alliance. I turn away from opening the door for Emory so she can’t see my eyes roll at the name. It’s something a ten year old would come up with.
“This is a surprise. What can I do for you, Luna?” I’ve found that being nice all the time is easier than trying to switch it on and off. As a bonus, it makes Emory and Logan feel weird.
Emory shudders briefly and sets down the lunch tray next to my laptop. “No one else is here, Cora. You’re fine.”
I make sure to smile wide when I answer her. It’s hard to tune out Landon snickering in my head. “I know. But room service is new.”
There isn’t a true sitting area in here– just the desk and office chair, plus Landon’s precious recliner and a bench at the end of the bed. Emory looks around and finally settles on pulling the office chair over to the bench and setting the tray on that, leaving me the recliner. I’m secretly glad. I’m a little worried she can tell what Landon and I have done on that recliner. “I have a conversation to get through with you.”
Great. I can already tell I’m going to hate this moment. “Let’s get started, then.”
Emory inhales a deep breath. “Okay, so James has some questions about your notes and wants you to come see him.”
My eyebrows shoot up. This is the big, scary, conversation? “That’s not as ominous as you implied. Why are we waiting around? My schedule is open– when will I hear from his secretary?”
The hand Emory puts to her forehead signals to me the aggravating part of the conversation is coming. “Landon isn’t gonna want you goin’ on your own, so we’ll have to work with his schedule, too.”
I pause, waiting for the explanation. “And Landon’s opinion is important for my meeting because…?” Kitten… Landon’s tone is full of warning, but I can’t figure out what for. I’m a grown- ass woman. If I can’t go to a meeting by myself at my age, I might as well put a maxi dress and bonnet on and head over to the Amish community.
Another sigh from Emory. She’s on his side? “It’s hard t’ explain. There’re instincts from the wolf that’re… difficult to fight.” Her accent gets heavier as she goes on. “When I first had t’ deal with it myself, I about blew a gasket, but now that I shift too, I kinda get it. He needs you safe, you hear? And nobody else can assure him of that enough for his wolf. He’s gotta see it with his own eyes. It’ll get… better, in a coupla months.”
I take a deep breath of my own, counting, waiting for the punchline. “Well I don’t shift, and I don’t get it. I think I’ve been very damn patient with all the shifter bullshit so far, and there has been no accommodation for my humanity. Can you see the problem with that?” Cora, baby, please…
No. Shut up, Landon. This is crazy. Emory raises her eyebrows at the clear end of my patience. “Cora, I understand. It is bullshit, an’ I was just as mad as you. But you gotta believe me, he’s trying. It’s easier right now to just go with this until he can calm down a bit. Just wait for him to be more sure of you. There’s so much goin’ on right now with the FBI and everythin’ that they’re all on red alert.”
I hold my hand up, a move that I’m sure I’m not supposed to do with my superiors. “When have I ever done the easier thing, Emory?”
She squeezes the bridge of her nose, pinching the skin between her eyes. “Never. You’ve never once done the easier thing.”
I nod with exaggerated patience. “That’s right. And when have I ever accepted a double standard? When have I allowed someone to cow me into silence?”
Emory lets her head fall back on her shoulders, looking up at the ceiling. “The boys are gonna be so pissed.” Oh, I already am.
Ignoring them both, I really get rolling. “Fascism starts when we cede our rights in the name of so- called safety! I will not have a chaperone like some kind of regency Englishman’s spoiled brat marriage chattel! I am my own person, even if I have a vagina instead of a dick, and I deserve to have my own accomplishments and travel plans, and my own say in my comings and goings!”
I can feel myself getting louder. This is my one hot button issue, and Emory knows it. Nobody policed me as a kid, and I hold that freedom tightly. No one has any right to be the boss of me– not when I’ve worked so hard, for so long, just to make sure I had everything I needed. I did pretty well for myself. Better than anyone else would have done.
“Ugh, I fucked it up.” Emory mutters to herself, but I’m not paying attention to her. I cut my own rant off when I feel a veritable cloud of anger advancing on the room just before Landon slams the door open, leaving a dent in the wall with the doorknob.
Emory squeaks and hurries out of the room around Landon, squeezing past him as he breathes heavily in the doorway. “You’ve forgotten something, mate.”
I’m more subdued now from his dramatic entrance– no longer at a full boil, but still steaming. “And what is that?”
Landon slams the door back closed and locks it. “You don’t belong to yourself anymore. You belong to me. And I take care of what’s mine. Now fucking strip. I have a lesson to teach you.”
I really can’t account for it. I have no idea where this part of me came from, but instead of becoming inconsolably angry I feel the hot flush of arousal through my system. I want to do what he says– I even want to take whatever undeserved punishment he has for me. I put up one last token resistance. “If I belong to you, then you belong to me. You strip.”
With a grin, Landon yanks his belt out of his pants, letting it snap at his side. “Gladly, mate.” I think I fucked up.