Page 43 of Shifters Awakening

Marching back inside did nothing to ease my fury, and I slammed the door behind me, wincing when the distinct sound of glass shattering filled the foyer.

“Dammit,” I bellowed.

I took an immediate left into my study, shoving a hand through my hair. Those windows would be harder than hell to replace.

“Emma,” I yelled, moving around to the other side of my desk to keep the large piece of furniture between us. “Get in here.”

A moment later, she appeared on the threshold with clenched hands and a clenched jaw as Olivia and the other two shifters passed behind her, presumably to check on Jasper and make sure he left our premises. Atleast they knew how the hierarchy worked, even if Emma didn’t.

I pointed at the wingback chair in front of my desk. “Sit.”

She raised her chin. In a deadly serious voice, she said, “I. Will. Not.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

emma

Logan gaped at me as though he’d never had anyone in his life refuse his command, his blue eyes made brighter by the flush of fury in his face. He circled the study, pacing—no,prowling, as though he was a predator, and I was his prey. A shiver tripped down my spine. He’d gone feral.

Nervously, I licked my lips. What if he attacked me? What if he demanded fulfillment on the open-ended need between us? Would I even be able to refuse him? Right here, right now, I wasn’t sure I could. Fantasies of him pressing me against the wall and burying his face in my neck warred against my good sense.

Everything had gone wrong, and this moment turned dangerous. Everything about him illuminated desires in me. I wanted to beg for him to kiss me, take me, to make it all better.

But weakness wasn’t an option, so I glared in return, saying nothing, not backing down, and not moving frommy spot on the threshold. Being his prey wasn’t what I wanted. Not like this. He had no right to command me, and I wasn’t willingly giving in.

Finally, he blinked, stopped behind his desk once more, and shoved his hand through his dark hair, making it stick out in all directions. He had a successful business. Clearly, he knew how to employ self-control when it suited him.

“Sit down, Emma.”

“No.”

“I told you to sit down,” he said, his expression dark, his voice menacing.

“What the hell is your problem?” I threw my arms up and let them fall, my voice so loud Jasper could probably hear it from his new spot, seated in the driveway. “Is there nobody in this pack who tells you when you’re being a complete and utter ass?”

“That’s not how pack life works,” he growled.

“No wonder you’re such a fit-throwing asshole. Do you actually believe you can command me? That I’llletyou command me?” I crossed my arms. “That’s unacceptable. If you’re going to teach me anything, you will teach me as an adult with autonomy. I can refuse anything and do as I like. That’s the deal.”

His lips peeled back from his teeth, and his chest rose and fell for long moments before he spoke. “Pleasetake a seat, if youplease, Emma.”

I snorted but did not sit. “Try again.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed and released as he seethed so hard I could almost smell it. That was when ithit me. I probably could smell it, being that most animals innately detected changes in mood and hormones. My olfactory ability was probably better than it had ever been before.

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped.

“Ask me nicely.” I spied my car keys on his desk, easily within reach, but I didn’t grab them.

Logan cursed, threw his hands up in the air, and spun toward the closest window. He stared out of it without speaking. The silence in the study stretched, charged with everything I wanted to say and everything he wanted to say.

My phone buzzed against my thigh, and I retrieved it from my pocket, glad for the distraction while Logan sulked across from me.Voicemail.

I guessed my ass didn’t get cell reception good enough for it to ring through, and I’d pretty much been sitting on my cell phone since I’d sat down at the table to eat until I followed the cranky alpha into his office. I hit the speaker phone button and played the recording.

My mother’s shaky voice came over the speakerphone. “Emma, I tried to stop by, but you’re not home. It’s late, and you should be home. If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to call the sheriff.” The message ended.

“Next message,” the automated voicemail recording said.

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