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Loni was somewhere nearby, of course, but since training had been going well, she’d taken to giving him more space—no doubt at Odin’s agreement—and had gotten better about not hovering. She’d been closer earlier, but then Mr. Sun had come around and she’d excused herself, saying Hunter had been in good hands.
Not that Mr. Sun, the young, poised man who co-managed the club with Madam Moon seemed like the type who could hold his own in a fight. Let alone defend Hunter if it came to one. No doubt, it’d be the other way around.
Most likely she’d assumed it’d meant that if anything did happen, there’d be another person there to sound the alarms. And she would have been correct about that, if Sun hadn’t received a call on his multi-slate and wandered off, leaving Hunter alone with his thoughts and his third glass of cide.
The drink was bitter, more so than his usual liking, but he was in a mood and wanted something that would keep him focused yet distract him from the raging anxiety he felt. He hadn’t even bothered trying to convince Odin to take him with him again, knowing it was futile, but he’d made him bleed him just before, in case.
He hated that it was all he could do in this situation. Hated that he was still trapped, despite the change in his circumstances.
Fortunately, Odin hadn’t brought up the word love again either. Considering how badly that had thrown Hunter off, he was grateful for it. All week he’d been wondering if they were both losing their minds. Was it brainwashing? He was growing accustomed to being cared for and not having to worry about where or if he’d get his next meal, and Odin…
Odin liked drinking his blood.
But it was always Hunter who initiated. Always him who offered. Despite the fact the Shout got blissed out every time he so much as got a sip, he’d never once asked for Hunter to bleed. Hadn’t crossed that line.
Was it because he knew Hunter would give it up anyway?
He rubbed at his temples and growled at himself. He was doing it again. Overthinking. What did it matter? In the long run, it changed nothing between them. He’d already made up his mind and the mating had already taken place. Hell, it’d been over a month since, and here he was, still torturing himself over what that meant. Where that left them both standing.
Odin had been open about what he wanted with his words but, admittedly, Hunter was still unsure how much of that he should believe. Of course he’d want Hunter to fall for him. So long as he was wrapped around Snow’s finger, he’d continue putting out, in more ways than one.
He hated second-guessing every little detail, and he wasn’t sure which of them was to blame for it. Him, for knowing who and what Odin Snow was and falling for him anyway? Or Odin for all the shit he’d put him through that made him doubt? When Hunter closed his eyes, he could still picture the bitterness in Odin’s gaze that first night he’d woken in the red room upstairs.
His hatred hadn’t been faked. He’d truly blamed Hunter for everything that had happened to him.
Rumor on the street was that Ander Snow had been injured in an argument with his wife, but Hunter knew the true story. It hadn’t been in the midst of a fight, or even over dinner like was said. Factually, no one had seen it actually take place, but everyone who’d been in the Faraway Mansion that day knew without a shadow of a doubt what had happened.
Ander Snow had taken a tumble down the stairs.
Down. The. Stairs.
Of all things.
And not just any stairs, stairs in a home he’d literally spent his entire life in from birth on. He’d known every dip and crack and crease in that place like the back of his hand, yet he’d somehow slipped on a step? The Snow Dominus, the head of the main family of the Brumal?
Yeah right.
Isabel Frost had supposedly been down the hall and heard the commotion. She’d been standing at the top of the steps when the guards had arrived, feigning ignorance.
They all knew she’d pushed him.
For him to have trusted her at his back that much…For years…
Shouts had mercurial natures brought on by the swell of power within them. It was common for them to lose their cool or alter their temperament at the drop of a hat. Ander had known this since he’d been one himself, and yet he’d fallen for Isabel Frost anyway.
Hunter didn’t stand a chance against Shout magic if Odin ever chose to turn against him.
Although, even when he had been against him, Hunter was forced to acknowledge he hadn’t harmed him. At least, not physically, aside from the time he’d pushed against his broken ribs. Mentally was another story, but they’d both played mind games and really, Hunter was too exhausted to bother drudging up those old demons again.
He sipped at his drink and thought about his plans for after. If they were successful in ridding the world of Isa Frost, what then? Would he stay with Odin and abide by their mating, or would he run?
Without the fear of the Frost Brumal out there with orders to kill him he’d have better chances—No. No, he wouldn’t. Odin would never let him go, despite all the sweet words he’d been spilling and plying Hunter with these past weeks. If Hunter ever dared to run, Snow would chase him down.
And he wouldn’t like the consequences.
He shuddered. Why was it, even knowing that much, Hunter still couldn’t stomach the idea of never seeing the other man again?
He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t lie, that he’d be honest about his own emotions, at least in private. While it might not yet be love, Hunter had feelings for Odin. Strong ones. All consuming ones.
