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“Shower, Huntsman,” Odin told him, “That’s an order.” And without another word or so much as a second glance, he stormed out of the bathroom.
Hunter didn’t know how long he stood there, but he waited until his breathing had evened out and his mind had stopped racing through all the possibilities of what could have happened if Odin hadn’t gotten that call. By the time he felt centered enough to open the shower door and step into the stall, he was busy trying to convince himself that that tiny inkling of disappointment he felt was due to not getting it over with.
And not at all because he was still curious about what being fucked by Odin Snow might feel like.
Chapter 6:
“What are you doing, sir?” Corbi stood at his side, staring straight ahead at the crowded dance floor. She took her job seriously, ever watchful for threats even as he poured more and more alcohol down his throat, completely uncaring.
With how he was feeling, if someone wanted to start something tonight, let them. He could go for a good fight, could get his hands bloodied again, and allow himself to slip into that headspace where nothing else mattered but dodging the next punch and delivering a blow of his own.
Odin scowled and gulped down another shot of vodka, slapping the glass onto the countertop with a loud click. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Feeling sorry for yourself, sir.”
He narrowed his eyes and turned to her, but she never tore her gaze off the mass of writhing bodies dancing to the beat of some electric pop song with no lyrics.
Neon beams of light flashed across her black-clad form, but she hardly seemed to notice, used to settings like this one. In the beginning, when he’d first taken her and her twin in, loud noises and bright lights of any kind had sent them both scurrying in a panic.
“You’ve come a long way,” he told her, a wisp of pride slipping into his tone. Maybe he should stop drinking before he got too sentimental. He motioned for the bartender to refill his shot glass despite that thought.
“Thank you, sir,” Corbi said. “I owe it to you, sir.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “There’s something you’ve wanted to tell me. What is it?”
The twins were aces at hiding their feelings, but that was all thanks to Odin. He was probably the only one on the planet who could still read them, and easily. Ever since she’d met him in his office the other day, there’d been something on her mind that she’d been struggling to keep from saying. He’d been trying to ignore it, confident that whatever it was, it wasn’t something he wanted to hear and that’s why she was keeping closed lip about it, but now…
It was a Wednesday, and yet the club was packed. He’d walked in and seated himself at the bar, leaving his people to deal with fending off any unwanted attention, although, even that he was starting to regret.
If no one was going to risk starting a fight, then maybe getting laid was his next best option.
“Forgive me, sir, but I overheard something I shouldn’t have the other day.” Corbi was nervous, which made him suddenly alert. When he didn’t immediately reply, she continued. “Perhaps…Forgive me, sir, but what if he’s telling the truth?”
And just like that, any semblance of a good mood he’d managed to form by drowning himself in alcohol vanished in a puff of smoke. She must have been waiting outside in the hallway last week when Hunter had first woken and tried to convince him he’d felt bad about the whole trying to kill him thing. Odin had thought for sure that their words had been spoken softly enough not to be overheard, but he must have been mistaken.
“Who?” he asked anyway, partially daring her to continue.
She caught on, a crack in her steely demeanor momentarily visible as she swallowed, but then in a firm voice she said, “Hart, sir.”
“Did you fall for him or something?” he drawled. “See his pretty face and experience insta love?”
“Of course not, sir.” Her lips turned down at the corners slightly. “He isn’t my type.”
“Oh? What about him makes you say that?”
She hesitated, then finally turned and met his gaze head-on. “Anyone you show an interest in is decidedly not my type, sir.”
He stiffened and took a shot, relishing the burn of alcohol grazing down his throat. “Overstep.”
“Forgive me, sir.” She bowed, waiting for him to acknowledge it before straightening.
“He’s lying,” Odin had no idea why he was explaining this to her, but the words tumbled out of his mouth anyway, “he’s good at that. At making people believe he cares about them when he doesn’t. He’s as cold as you are, Corbi. It’s best to remember that the next time you overhear something you shouldn’t.”
“I’m not actually cold, sir,” she said, and he quirked a brow, taken aback by her boldness.
“What’s gotten into you tonight?”
“It’s been over a month since you brought him here,” she pointed out, “and this is the first time you’ve shown your face at the club.”
