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“You’re frustrated.”
Sexually frustrated, yeah. Back in the Room with a View, he hadn’t even gotten off. Odin had rushed off the play floor and gone straight to his office, but he’d been too wound up by then with the look Corbi had given him.
And the one Hunter had.
Instead of the continued disgust, Hunter had been staring at that woman like he’d wished he was in her place or something, and Odin…He didn’t know how to feel about that. Hated that he felt like he was being played by the man, yet again.
Corbi bought it, fully believing Hunter’s attraction was real, but Odin wasn’t convinced.
He couldn’t be.
Wouldn’t that make him an idiot? Hunter Thorn wasn’t the type of person who’d watch someone get choked into unconsciousness and then be turned on. It had to be a trick.
But to what end? At this point, he had to have realized Odin wasn’t going to let him go…
Something that should be straightforward was driving him nuts, and that pissed him off. At himself, and at Hunter Thorn.
Denial wasn’t doing him any good, but the uncertainty wasn’t any better.
Odin stared at Grind for a moment, unseeing. Maybe Vetle had a point after all. Maybe Odin should deal with this frustration brewing inside of him before they attended the gala. The last thing he needed was to be torn and distracted while in enemy territory, and like it or not, Faraway Mansion now constituted as Isa’s.
Isa’s in part because of what Hunter had done that day in the forest.
“I’ve been too nice,” Odin mumbled, clenching his fights at his sides. He spun away and headed to the exit with renewed vigor. “Take care of this.”
It was time he force the Huntsman to tell the truth.
And maybe admit a truth or two himself while he was at it.
Chapter 9:
Hunter had been restlessly pacing the room when the door suddenly burst open. He shot back, startled, eyes widening when Odin stormed through and slammed a palm on the keypad, shutting them both in again.
He was dressed in black, but that did nothing to hide the fact Odin was also covered in blood. It had dried, staining his hands a deep crimson, streaks of it painting his forearms. There were darker spots on his thighs where it must have gotten as well, and when he moved toward Hunter he instinctually retreated, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste.
Odin reached him anyway, latching onto his wrist to haul him forward, practically dragging him across the floor, and tossing him into the bathroom before following. He shut that door next, flicking the lock, his expression dark and determined.
“What are you doing?” Hunter almost didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, high and husky and completely freaked out. He inhaled sharply when Odin’s hands dropped to his jeans and he began to unbutton them, quickly looking away.
Only, that had him turning his head toward the shower, and the memory of what he’d done in there a couple of days ago—and who he’d been thinking about when he had—had him flushing in embarrassment.
“Don’t bother with the lie,” Odin said, finally breaking the silence as he stripped out of his pants and shucked them across the room. “You had no problem staring at me the other night. We both know you don’t mind looking.” He worked on undoing his dress shirt next, getting impatient with it halfway through. The rest of it tore, buttons flinging about.
One hit Hunter in the stomach and he stepped back only to have Odin growl at him.
“Snow,” Hunter held up a palm to ward him off as he moved back again, but he came up against the edge of the bathtub sooner than he would have liked. “You’re upset.”
“How impressive of you to notice,” he drawled sarcastically.
“And being irrational.”
“How do you figure?” Odin slipped his thumbs beneath the band of his black boxer briefs and yanked them down, stepping out and flicking them at Hunter.
Hunter tried to evade—for some stupid reason because they were only underwear—and ended up tripping after all, falling onto the toilet with a heavy thud.
“Lucky you put the lid down,” Odin told him absently, and then he was standing before him, gripping a fistful of Hunter’s shirt. He tugged him back onto his feet, forcing Hunter onto his tiptoes as he brought their faces close together. “I’m covered in blood, Huntsman.”
Hunter licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to notice the spicy scent of the other man or the hint of tart apple that accompanied it. Odin’s hot breath fanned across his cheeks and in the otherwise slightly chilly room, it almost made him want to shift closer and lean into it.
