Liberty and Death, Chapter 43
After she was done admiring Kyra’s upgrade, Cora followed them to the Armory, Hawk in tow close behind. Kyra and Iain were quick, leaving a few weapons and getting to bed. Cora took her time. She stripped out of her jacket and armor, and hung [Rib Cutter] in a rack beneath her coat. Her gun, she kept. Just felt right. Immediately, that instinct was proven correct as the Armory door closed behind her.
That didn’t actually instantly trigger a ‘Danger!’ flag in her mind. What did that was when she turned to look at the door, and instead found Hawk’s arm, slamming into the concrete next to her head so hard that it shook dust off the stone.
Her pulse doubled in a second, and not just from fear, as she looked up, up, up, into those animal-yellow eyes, those sharp white teeth, grinning down at her with a hunger that had nothing to do with her stomach.
She moved to look away, but found she couldn’t. Hawk’s fingers, like warm, rough steel, held her chin firmly in place. Part of her remembered that right now, she was stronger than Hawk. It wasn’t that she couldn’t pull away. Not really.
“Two times in two days, I’ve saved your fine ass, Miss Mistress,” Hawk said, enough bass in her voice that Cora felt it in her chest. “Seems like maybe you owe me.”
Hawk let the words hang in the air, but also let her elbow bend, resting her forearm against the wall, bringing her face close enough for Cora to feel her breath. For all of her private thoughts about Hawk, Cora had been trying to be realistic. This world had poor dental hygiene in general, and Hawk was an ex-raider. While she’d wondered plenty of times what those lips might feel like on hers, and while now she knew what those teeth would feel like on her neck, she’d expected Hawk’s breath to be something she had to get used to.
It wasn’t. Like everything about this woman, it smelled good to Cora. Just like the way her skin smelled good, when it shouldn’t. They way her teeth had tingled, biting hard enough to draw blood, instead of truly hurting. The way this obviously inappropriate aggression should be making her skin crawl, but instead was sending her heart into overdrive, heat building in her stomach, between her legs, like she’d started a fire inside herself.
Hawk’s eyes left her face, tracing down her neck, and her fingers followed. At first, they grazed lightly, trying to find the mark she’d attempted to leave earlier. When they couldn’t, she frowned, and Cora frowned with her. That girl that wanted to be marked, wanted to be owned was still inside of her. She probably always would be. You didn’t get out from under a girl like Lindsay Desmaries without scars that were so deep that they felt like they’d always been there.
When Hawk’s fingers couldn’t find her love bite, they shifted gears, going from stroking to encircling. They squeezed, gently, and it felt like a kiss. An act of affection, like you were trying to size your loved one up for a new outfit. Only this outfit would only have one piece. Maybe two, if the collar came with a leash.
Lindsay also taught me how to deal with people like Lindsay.
The hammer clicked beneath her thumb, as she pressed the barrel of her gun into the hollow beneath Hawk’s neck.
“You have until three,” She said, knowing for certain the steel in her voice wasn’t matched in her eyes. Being a good actor meant you knew when you were failing at acting.
“One.”
Hawk chuckled, tightening her grip on Cora’s throat just a notch. Cora’s expression did herself no favors.
“C’mon, Miss Mistress. You want this more than I do,” Hawk cooed, so close to pleading. If only it didn’t sound so much like a demand.
“Two.”
“Still counting?” Hawk asked, getting closer, barrel pressing harder into her neck. “How many times you see me get shot yesterday? Think that’ll even work?”
“Three.”
Cora’s finger tensed against the trigger.
She didn’t pull it.
It was like her finger froze there, locked in time, fighting an unwinnable battle against an inertia Cora knew she was imposing upon herself. There was no external force, stopping her. There was only Cora. There was only Cora really, really not wanting to shoot this horrible, beautiful woman.
Hawk looked down at her, the lust and command in her eyes slowly being replaced by disappointment and hurt. Maybe even confusion.
She let go of Cora’s neck, fingers sliding off instead of releasing, and pushed off the wall.
“S’whatever,” She said, with a cocky grin and worse acting than Cora had just displayed. “It's better when they beg for it anyways.”
She didn’t look back as she swung the Armory door open and walked out.
Cora took a beat, then rushed to the door, locking it shut. She found a relatively comfortable spot, and took care of that heat, finding a release as needed as it was unsatisfying.
Then she held her head on her knees and wept.
Why the fuck did she have to be right? Why do I have to be so fucked up that she’s right?
I do want it. Want her so fucking bad that it hurts.
It's so much goddamn easier when someone else calls the shots, and that’s where it always starts for me. In bed. Against the wall.
She wiped her eyes, wishing she’d picked Cadey tonight. She could feel Lacey, pacing, muttering, agitated in the back of her mind, her maniac strength less useful here than it had been on the street. The Scream Queen could at least tell her she was just being a fucking diva about it, all the Crazed Hero could do was rave.
C’mon, Cora, it is way to early to be relying on fractured personalities to cope with a fucked up love life.
But was it? She’d held it together, thus far, sure, but she was in survival mode. Hawk pressing her…. Well, it had forced her to come to grips with what happened after survival was taken care of.
She was on her way to making Luxholme a good place. With all of its advantages, it'd be untouchable soon, within Light’s Fall at least.
And if she let Hawk take the reins….
Maybe it’d be better. Maybe Hawk’s berserk ferocity would be the fire needed to burn out the rot in the heart of Tyrinno.
But probably not. There was a spark of humanity left in Hawk, or one of them would be dead right now. She hadn’t forced it. Hadn’t made Cora pull that trigger.
But that’s all it was, a spark. Unless Cora, and it’d probably take more than Cora, could turn that spark into a flame, Luxholme under Hawk would be a worse place than it had ever been under the Lights.
Cora sighed, pulling her pants back on and getting to her feet. This had been coming. Hell, she’d been asking for it, it wasn’t like Hawk was acting on imagined signals. It hadn’t gone the way either of them had expected, but it could have gone worse.
At the very least, it proved that whatever Hawk was, she wasn’t all Monster.
Kyra was already in bed by the time Cora had pulled herself together enough to leave the Armory. Cora was glad for the small mercy of not having to look like a puffy mess in front of her.
A shower, comfy clothes, and sleep came easy.
It actually wasn’t less surprising to wake up to Tania holding her a second time, though this time she was able to keep her head enough to deal with the knife before moving anything else. She barely would’ve even had to worry, though. While Tania stubbornly latched on like a small child, she didn’t try to stab Cora even a little bit.
“Mmmmnnnn!” She protested, as Cora pried the knife from those strong little fingers. It was easy now. Even after Lacey had fallen away, Cora’s baseline level of strength was just barely into the realm of superhuman now.
That blew her mind. She’d always been considered strong, for a girl her size, but now, based on stats alone, she’d be the strongest person in the world back home. Even funnier when, without Lacey’s strength, there were people in this house that could snap her like a twig.
She pushed the woman that thought conjured back out of her mind. God knew Hawk would force her way back in soon enough.
Cora slid out from under Tania, trying to wriggle off the other side of the bed, only to run into Kyra.
She felt her tense as her skin brushed hers, and all Cora could do was curse.
“Fuck,” she whispered, pulling back while also fending off Tania’s efforts to grab her arm, “Uh, good morning Kyra juuuuust tryin’ to get out of bed without getting stabbed.”
“You’re moving the wrong way for that,” Kyra hissed.
“Yep, yep, I know, or, well, you’d think that, but….” Cora said. Kyra growled, throwing her blankets off and sitting up sharpish. A knife once more just appeared in her hand like a magic trick.
“Yeah, I would think that, why don’t I– oh goddammit Tania,” Kyra sighed. She reached over put her hand on the smaller girl's face and pushed her back. She gave Cora a little apologetic grin, and then gestured with her head behind her. “Go on, she used to do this to me too when Linnea and Linnaeus were both out.”