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“The bed it is.” But first…Odin shifted forward and captured Hunter’s mouth with his.
Chapter 9:
For the bond to be at its strongest, it was important for the two of them to constantly exchange blood for at least a week. Of course, that could have easily been done between Odin’s usual comings and goings, but the Dominus was having none of that, even when Hunter suggested it.
Instead, they spent three days straight in bed, only getting up to retrieve food brought directly to the door. Hunter didn’t even see another person until the end of that third day, always too spent and exhausted to even attempt moving from the bed.
Sometimes Odin fucked him hard, others gently. There was never any telling at the start what kind of mood he was in or how things were about to go, but by the end of those three days, Hunter’s body ached and he pushed the other man away when he tried to penetrate him for the millionth time.
Odin hadn’t gotten angry, he’d merely switched gears. He’d pulled Hunter from the bedding and brought him over to the center of the room where there was more empty space, and had told him to show him what he remembered from his training.
Training that he’d had over a decade ago.
Hunter had almost refused, but even after the mating, the idea of getting to punch Odin in the face was too tempting. He’d been unable to land a blow, unsurprisingly, but the motivation was there and it kept him going.
That, paired with Odin’s promise that if he was successful, he’d get blown in return.
So they trained, and fucked, and bled each other, and by the end of day six Hunter managed to graze Odin’s jaw with his knuckles. He’d been rewarded, as promised.
Day seven, the final day, was spent back in bed, having lazy sex and lapping at small cuts, weirdly enjoying one another’s company. The world outside the bedroom hadn’t stopped, but for a moment there, it’d felt like it, and Hunter found himself partially wishing that it wouldn’t end.
But it had to, because the bubble they’d created where it was just the two of them wasn’t real, and fantasies always burst apart.
He’d woken on the morning of day eight with the ompt bracelet back on his wrist. There’d also been a tablet on the end table at the side of the bed, and Odin had scrawled a note there for him letting him know that he’d needed to leave to deal with Brumal business. When Hunter checked it, he found that the device was fully operational in all regards except one.
He couldn’t send messages out.
Figured.
Before he’d been able to pinpoint whether the tight feeling in his chest was annoyance that Snow had left without waking him or something else, the door to the room had opened and Loni had stepped in.
She’d bowed and explained, with her eyes downcast, that she’d been ordered to bring him to Odin’s private gym to further Hunter’s training.
There’d been a second where he’d wanted to refuse out of spite, however, he’d quickly realized that wouldn’t be in his best interest. Being mated meant he’d tied himself to Odin Snow forever. That was done. There was no turning back.
Which also meant Hunter was still in danger and would most likely be for the rest of his life. Not exactly different from his previous circumstances, but at least now he was being given the opportunity to better his fighting skills so he could defend himself. That was something Odin had been wildly against before when he’d been worried about Hunter turning on him.
A week in the man’s bed and suddenly he trusted him? Hunter had snorted and gotten dressed before following Loni out.
This became routine for the next two weeks. He’d wake alone, Loni would arrive sometime, they’d train, Hunter would be free to roam the club, and Odin would make it back in time for dinner. Sometimes they had sex afterward, sometimes they merely sat on the couch and talked. It was…Unsettling, but also…comfortable.
“That bastard’s tamed me,” he grumbled to himself, a little over three weeks since the night of their mating, as he wandered through the first level of Club Cherry, Loni close at his back.
“What was that, Mr. Thorn?” she asked, and he shook his head, used to her playing the role of his shadow by now.
The bracelet allowed him to enter all parts of the club aside from rooms in private use by clients, and any of the exits. He’d been told the last time he’d been given the clunky piece of jewelry that if he so much as got close to one of those doors an alarm would sound, alerting nearby security, and he’d yet to test that. Not because he wasn’t curious, but because there was no reason to.
What life awaited him outside those doors? Hunter had spent the past ten years on the run, living in filth, no better than an animal. Half his nights he’d been close to freezing to death, the other half, mostly starved. The temperature in the club was always warm, comfortable, and if he was hungry, ever, all he had to do was ask and food would be brought to him right away.
Yes, he inwardly sighed, he’d been tamed, but so what? He’d gained protection and comfort in exchange for his body and blood. A fair trade. And pride? That thing he’d been clinging so tightly too? It hadn’t taken nearly as great of a hit as he’d feared.
Hunter had wanted Odin for a long time, and now he had him.
What was there to be embarrassed about that?
Really, both of them were winners here, they’d just been too stubborn in the beginning to acknowledge as much.
That still didn’t mean he one hundred percent liked him. Odin was controlling and domineering; he’d grown up as the prince of the mafia and was ten times more insufferable now that he was king than he’d been when they’d been younger. They still argued, still fought, and Hunter still resisted his advances now and again.
