Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 272

Ch 42

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Ch. 12

Cassandra

Piper knows. It’s the first thing that pops in my head when I see the look she’s giving me this morning. Well, that and the fact that she’s stopped avoiding me and actually started looking at me directly, which is somehow worse than the avoidance.

Honestly, I preferred it when she was avoiding me. I’m used to people avoiding me here, even learned not to let it bother me. And with Piper, I could manage where I was and when and not put either of us in unnecessary proximity. It was uncomfortable but it was navigable.

Now she’s looking and I have no idea how I meant to react to that.

I could understand if she was being openly hostile with me. I’ve certainly dealt with my share of that too. But this isn’t hostility. She’s looking at me like she’s trying to understand me. I don’t have much experience with that kind of look.

Which brings me back to my original thought. Noah told her. I don’t know how much. I don’t know what version he gave her. But she definitely knows.

The look she’s giving me gives nothing away. I don’t know if she hates me. But I know I couldn’t blame her if she did.

I turn and walk away before I have a chane to find out.

“Fuck.” I grumble to myself when I realize I’ve just traded one awkward situation for an even more uncomfortable one.

Because Noah is walking straight toward me from the council wing. I can already see the intent in his eyes and all hope that he’ll keep right on walking fades on the spot.

“You heard us last night,” The jab lands exactly as he means it to, so painful I barely contain my gasp.

Denying it would be futile. He saw my light on in the office last night-I know he saw it, in fact I’m reasonably sure that’s why he chose that particular spot in the first place.

“I wasn’t trying-“I huff when he cuts me off again.

“You heard us,” he says again, making it clear all he wants is for me to admit it. Because that’s the only thing that ensures my humiliation.

I look at the floor, refusing to give him my eyes. “Yes.”

He studies me. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You get off on listening to us, collecting little details you can use to your advantage later. Don’t forget, Cassie,” he spits the nickname Jack used for me in front of him, “I know who you are. There’s no fooling me. Not anymore.”

There’s an edge in his tone. The deliberate edge he’s been using-calculated to produce a specific reaction. He wants my pain, but all I can feel at the moment is anger.

“No, I didn’t enjoy it!” My growl is pathetic, weak, but it gets the point across. “Did you think I would?” The sarcasm in my tone is unmistakable. “Is that why you seem incapable of even having a conversation with your girlfriend unless it’s within my vicinity?”

He looks at me and something shifts in his expression-subtle, there and gone. The edge changing slightly.

“I don’t know what I thought,” he grits out. Then his face hardens again. “But trust me when I say, you’re not important enough to dictate where I hold my conversations. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t make me happy when the opportunity arises to cause you pain and I can take advantage of it.”

I sigh deeply, resisting the urge to shake the man standing in front of me. “You’re right.” I can admit that much. “I hurt you. I made a huge mistake and there’s no taking that back. I deserve every bit of vitriol, every punishment, you send my way.

“And I’ll take it all, happily even. For as long as you deem necessary. As long as it means Liam can stay here, where he’s safe and

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happy.” I amend

Noah leans in, his voice a tow rumble. “Don’t worry, you’re not going anywhere, mate. I just might decide tormenting you is my new favorite pastime.”

He leaves without another word and I stand there wondering just how sick it makes me that, despite what he said to me, the deep growly tone he used has slick running down my thighs.

I don’t think I really want an answer to that question.

Liam comes to find me at lunch. He sits across from me, watching me with the look I’ve come to recognize means he has something to report, and he’s judging if I’m in the right headspace to listen. He must decide I am because he holds up a small piece of rope in his hands and begins working through something-his fingers moving in a specific pattern, looping, crossing.

“What are you doing?” I frown as I try to make sense of the movement.

“A knot,” he says, like it should be obvious. “Watch.”

I watch. His small hands work through it slowly-the careful movements he clearly knows what he’s doing but isn’t confident enough yet to do it without concentrating. He finishes and holds up the result proudly.

“The Alpha showed me,” he grins widely.

“Did he?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“He showed me three times. Until I got it.” He starts working through it again. “I asked what it was for and he said securing things. Important things.” He frowns at his hands. “I dropped it the first time. He showed me again.”

“Did you ask him to teach you?”

“No.” He looks up. “I showed him the piece of rope I found when I went to his office to draw. He just taught me.”

He goes back to working the knot. I watch my son’s hands moving through the pattern, his little nose scrunched adorably in deep concentration. And I ry to make sense of what is happening.

A man who is deliberately hurting me took time out of his day to teach my four-year-old how to tie a knot. Three times, until he got it. Why? Because the thought occurred to him and he followed it?

I cannot make this consistent with the rest of what I’m trying to understand about him. I’ve been trying to make it make sense

for weeks.

I’m tired of trying.

Clearly, I’ve been doing something wrong. I’ve been operating inside this framework of don’t reach for the bond, don’t pretend, don’t manipulate. In short, don’t be the person I used to be in any way, shape or form. I’ve been so focused on those prohibitions that I organized everything around them. What I’m not allowed to do. What I have to stop myself from doing.

And somewhere along the way, I forgot something important. I like him.

Not just as a fated mate. Not through the lens of the bond or what I forfeited or what I owe him. And certainly not the part ofhim that feels the need to torment me daily.

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