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Hunter couldn’t let Odin find out. If he ever did…
He wrapped his hand around his girth and gave himself a couple of solid pumps, a vision of Odin from the previous night decorating the inside of his eyelids despite his efforts to chase those images away.
He’d been so hot, with his head tossed back against the couch, his legs spread wide around that woman. His gaze on her as she’d sucked him, dazed, his blood-red lips parted on a gasp…
Hunter had wanted to be the one doing that to him. The one causing him all of that pleasure, making him forget where and what he was.
Making them both forget.
Because the fact of the matter was, he could hate how much Odin Snow affected him forever, but that wouldn’t change a damn thing.
He wanted the man currently holding him captive. Wanted to know what it was like down there, between his powerful thighs, mouth wrapped around his impossibly wide cock.
Then he wanted Odin to flip him over and press inside of him. Fill him up and make him scream.
Hunter’s free hand slipped behind himself, prodding at his puckered hole. He worked a finger past the tight ring of muscle, clenching his teeth against the slight burn. It’d been a long time since he’d last been touched there, even by himself, but his lust-filled haze kept him going until he was knuckle deep and moaning.
While he’d been researching, he’d read that Whispers liked it, when they were bled. Supposedly there was something arousing about it if done by the right person. Past firsthand accounts had even tied it with the same high as an orgasm.
It’d made him sick and he would never admit it out loud, but after reading that, he’d slunk back to the hovel of a room he’d been renting for the night and had touched himself to thoughts of Odin’s mouth latched at his throat. It’d only been six or so months since he’d failed to kill the man and his sister had been murdered, yet there Hunter had been, his hands groping much like now.
When he came it was hard, hard enough stars winked in his vision, and he emptied himself out against the glass door, picturing what it might have been like if Odin had made good on his threats that day he’d cornered him in here and stripped him down.
He was sick. There was something seriously wrong with him.
Hunter dropped to the floor and hung his head, panting through the aftermath as the water started to chill above him.
He thought again about how he wished he could blame these feelings on being a Whisper, but that simply wasn’t the case. Whispers weren’t forced to like Shouts. They could boost their powers, sure, but attraction was attraction just like with any other being on Sanctum. It wouldn’t make him like Odin. Wouldn’t make him think about him like this.
Touch himself like this…
With Shouts as rare as they were, he’d easily been able to hide the fact he was a Whisper. The only way for anyone to find out would be for a Shout to taste his blood, and since it wasn’t common for people to go around sucking on others' wounds, that seemed highly unlikely.
Odin wouldn’t know unless Hunter somehow messed up and gave himself away.
Which he had absolutely no intention of doing…however…
Hunter wasn’t a slave, but he was a captive. And if he wasn’t careful, he’d give in to these wild curiosities, these burning questions that had plagued him all these years.
What would it be like to be taken by a Shout?
What would it be like to be taken by Odin Snow?
After what felt like hours, he finally peeled himself off the floor, rinsed himself down, and exited the bathroom. As he’d expected, the bedroom was empty, with the door closed tightly shut. He stood there for a moment and tried to calm his nerves and regain his composure.
He’d never been a fan of sticking in one place for too long, not since he’d started running. Now it was like he couldn’t shut that part of his brain off, and the anxiety that sprung up at the knowledge he was trapped here made him sick to his stomach. There wasn’t even anything there to help to distract him, but then, that made sense.
Odin had put him here to keep him comfortable, even if he’d spent these past weeks warmer and with a fuller stomach than he had in years. It would be safer to think of it as being fattened up for the slaughter. He was being taken care of only so Odin could destroy him personally, hadn’t that been what Snow had said?
Hunter believed him.
He wouldn’t be able to hack the keypad keeping him locked in, though, and even if he could, he’d seen the halls when Corbi had escorted him out the other night. There were Brumal members around every corner, and security cameras were located on all the floors below this one. He’d never make it to an exit.
All he could do was wait, completely at Odin’s mercy, and it’d been a long time since Hunter had discovered that Odin Snow didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Chapter 8:
Odin felt the power crackle over his skin and he sent it rushing forward, shooting off of him in waves to slap against the man before him.
