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Hunter tightened his grip around Odin’s neck, already guessing where he was going with that line of thinking. Things had started moving in the right direction between them, finally. He wasn’t about to let it derail simply because the other man couldn’t get a hold of his jealousy issues.
“I was preparing for what might happen to me if I were ever caught and found out,” he said. “I wasn’t imagining anyone in particular while I was looking into this.”
“No?”
“Odin.” It wasn’t like Hunter had ever paid much attention to Wren, and they both knew his stance on Isa so…
He seemed to come to this same conclusion a second later, sighing and pressing his lips lightly against Hunter’s, once, twice, before moving to lap at the already drying line of blood like a kitten to milk. He latched onto his throat, licking at the wound even though it’d been shallow enough it would have closed already. At the same time, he began lightly grinding down against the apex of Hunter’s thighs, rubbing them both in a way that instantly had sparks flying between them.
Hunter felt himself grow hard behind the zipper of his jeans and moaned, lifting his hips to meet Odin the next time he pressed down.
They’d made progress, sure, but it was apparent they were mostly still just operating off of physical attraction more than anything else.
For now, he could live with that.
Chapter 11:
“Should he be here?” Vetle peered over at where Hunter stood for what had to be the millionth time in the past twenty minutes alone.
Hunter almost rolled his eyes, but somehow managed to keep his composure. He was standing against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, listening in on the meeting. So far, there hadn’t been much for him to personally contribute, and mostly, he was grateful he’d been allowed there at all.
He almost snorted at that thought. Him, grateful to Snow. Go figure.
But since they’d mated and come to an agreement, the Snow Dominus had more than kept his promises. Hunter was allowed to roam throughout the entire club, and he’d continued his training with Loni. Every day he felt himself getting a little stronger, a little better. His body had recalled things his mind had long forgotten, and the old training he’d experienced as a teen had rushed back to him quickly.
Odin was also being more open with him, including with details about Isa and his plans, which was why Hunter was here with him, his underboss, and the twins, waiting for Jita to arrive.
They were on the second level in one of the meeting rooms kept specifically for members of the Brumal. Both the twins and Vetle were seated at the wooden table, but Hunter had opted to remain standing on the opposite side of the door, near the window so he could glance out at the bustling nightlife below. Odin was nearby.
“From now on, unless ordered otherwise, Hunter is to be given anything he wants,” Odin set his gaze on Vetle, “and told anything he wants as well. The only thing he can’t do is leave this building. Anyone who helps him do so will be expelled from the Brumal. Understood?”
That last part sort of went without saying, and this time Hunter gave in and did roll his eyes, turning to glance out the window as a black hovercar rolled up. They were facing the main streets and were too high up for him to identify whoever it was who exited the vehicle, so he didn’t bother.
Jita had finally been discharged from the hospital and was being brought straight here. He’d wanted to go home first, but Odin had been worried for his safety and had insisted he come to the club instead. They’d even set up rooms for him for the time being. Typically, the councilor had his own space away from the Brumal to help keep up appearances of separate ties. But no one knew how far Isa was willing to take things, and it’d become apparent—at least to Hunter—that Odin cared about Jita more than he’d verbally let on.
He cared about all of his people, really. The twins, who Hunter had once felt a little jealous of, were girls he’d rescued from the streets and trained into warriors. They were always with him in one capacity or another, and unerringly loyal. They treated him like an older brother.
Vetle respected him. Hunter had been aware that he’d waited around for Odin’s return, keeping as many members of the Snow family branch alive on his own until that day came. He’d been certain it would, had kept hope alive for the others.
Isa was a monster who’d murdered his mother and taken control of the Brumal, but it wasn’t just that they hadn’t wanted to work for someone like that. Truth be told, everyone in this room and out was more than aware that Odin was capable of the same level of cruelty as his step-brother.
The only thing Hunter could think of was that he hadn’t been the only one to experience the kinder side to Snow when they’d been younger. His father had ruled with the motto that their people came first. Even when he was beating his son in the name of making him stronger, that was still always the case. He’d pounded that ideology into Odin’s head, and clearly it’d stuck.
There weren’t rumors circulating the streets about Odin harming his own for no good reason, that was for sure. The same couldn’t be said about Isa.
When he’d been halfway across the globe, Hunter had even overheard one particular story about Isa’s assistant getting him the wrong lunch order while on a business trip. He’d broken the man’s fingers one at a time. Then he’d frozen them with his power and smashed them to bits.
Even thinking about that now had him shuddering. His own experience with Isa’s brutality back at the Faraway Mansion during the gala was still a sick memory in his mind, one that played every now and again in his nightmares. He’d thought he was stronger than that, that he’d already experienced all the trauma he could after Meg’s death and living in constant fear on the run.
He’d been wrong.
It wasn’t something he wanted to go through again, which was why he hadn’t bothered fighting Odin’s order to remain in the club. Even weeks later, he still stood by that this was the safest place for him. Even Jita hadn’t been left alone out there. Hunter had no hope of it.
Besides, it wasn’t so bad. The club was constantly alive and in motion. If he was bored, he could go downstairs and mingle, or drink in the corner and people-watch. If he felt restless, he could train. And if he was lonely, he could talk to one of the twins—he was finally starting to rub off on Loni, he knew he was—or call Odin.
And if he did ask someone to get in touch with the Snow Dominus, he always came. No matter what he was doing or where in the city he was at the time. Odin always dropped whatever he was doing and came at Hunter’s behest.
It’d gotten him to thinking…which one of them was really the one on the leash? Was a cage still a cage if the person trapped inside of it wanted to be there? Was the man in charge really the man in charge when he’d jump at a single word from his supposed captive?
