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Maybe it was the dark note in his tone, or perhaps the way Moon was so obviously eating him with her gaze, either way, Hunter didn’t need to be told a third time.
Chapter 11:
The line leading into the mansion stretched down the street and moved at a crawl. They’d arrived with the sun still hanging in the cerulean sky, but now it was setting, warm orange rays bathing the tops of the surrounding trees that lined the property. This used to be Odin’s favorite time of day when he’d been a boy living here. He’d come outside and sit on the porch or stand on the balcony outside his bedroom and stare out at the property.
Flame kissed, that’s what his father had jokingly called it, teasing Odin for liking it specifically because his power was rooted in heat.
Like many of the others in the Snow line, his father had controlled the cold, much the same as those of the Frost family. Odin had been the oddball, one of the few who’d developed a different connection. He couldn’t make ice. But he could melt it.
He was tempted to use his power now, the urge growing within him as they finally turned onto the driveway, passing through the large metal gate that had been left open invitingly for the slew of guests. Lanterns had been set out on either side of the long, winding white stone path, made to look like tiny golden flames flickered within their plastic casings.
More lights greeted them when they drew closer to the actual house, the driveway circling a massive fountain that was currently working, the two stone women set in the center of the structure pouring a never-ending stream of crystal-clear water from stone basins.
Odin’s grandmother had designed it.
He wanted to set it, and the house behind it, on fire and watch it all burn to the ground.
The mansion was made of snow-white stone, so smooth and shiny the lights from all the lit lanterns around it flickered off its surface. The cars were directed to stop between the fountain and the official entrance to the home, which was a set of steps that led to a landing that then branched off to two. Each staircase trailed in a semi-circle to the top, where the front doors were located.
Like the rest of the building, this part of the structure was grandiose and over the top. Four pillars held up a balcony that attached to the master bedroom, creating a porch before the red double doors that led into the sprawling foyer. A line of people dressed in flashy suits and sparkling gowns made their way up both the left and right steps now, already laughing and chatting amongst themselves, clearly excited to be invited to one of the year's largest events.
Odin felt sick to his stomach watching them. Everyone in this city knew that this was once the grand home of the Snow family. That Frost had swept in and stolen it. That Isa had no rightful claim.
And yet, here they all were as if this was like every other Octu Gala that had been held in this mansion for the past hundred and fifty years.
Like it wasn’t a Frost standing somewhere inside there greeting guests as though it was his right to do so.
“You haven’t been back here,” Hunter’s quiet voice cut through Odin’s thoughts like a knife, and he startled some, “have you?”
Odin blinked at him, tearing his gaze away from his childhood home to do so. Reality seemed to bleed back into existence, and he bristled, hating that he’d allowed himself to drop his guard. Even with the windows tinted, he should have known better than to reveal his genuine emotions while out in public.
Especially with Hunter here to witness it.
“Snow,” Hunter met his gaze head-on, but for once, there wasn’t any animosity there, “this isn’t going to go the way you hope.” It seemed like he was saying it for Odin’s benefit as if he was trying to warn him.
“Sir,” fortunately, Corbi interrupted as the car came to a stop in front of the steps, “it’s time.”
Odin opened the black box resting between him and Hunter on the back seat and picked it up. Inside, nestled between tufts of tissue paper, were two masks. The first was made of black silk with red trim and three rubies that trailed down the very center, the second was red silk with black trim. He took out the red one first, leaning over to tie it around Hunter’s head, carefully adjusting it so that it rested comfortably on his face.
He tried not to focus too much on the rich, spicy smell that was coming from the other man. Tried not to notice Hunter's agreeableness, allowing him to get this close and put the mask on him without a fuss.
Moon had done a spectacular job. Gone was any trace of the dark circles, his skin rosy and warm now. She’d put something on his lips to make them more vibrant, red, plush, and inviting. His hair had been styled, and he’d been given earrings similar to Odin’s, though he’d only had two piercings and, therefore, was wearing simple studs.
Odin had known from the beginning that he’d look phenomenal in the suit, so it shouldn’t be so breathtaking seeing him in it, and yet…
“Do you remember my father’s fiftieth birthday party?” he asked, the words spilling out without him meaning for them too, as he adjusted the collar of Hunter’s jacket. “You worked that night as one of the guards. They made you all dress up to fit in, and you came in this three-piece charcoal black suit.”
“You gave me your collar pin,” Hunter said.
“You remember.”
“Of course I do. It was worth more than everything I was wearing and every article of clothing I had ever worn up to that point.”
“You looked amazing,” Odin told him. He’d spotted Hunter on the other side of the ballroom and had been dazzled by the older boy.
They hadn’t given the bodyguards ties, but unlike the others, Hunter had buttoned his all the way up, giving off a slightly prim appearance that clashed with the image of dangerous Brumal Odin had known his father had been going for. It’d been a celebration, but Ander Snow had invited the other Brumal families, and tensions were high. That was part of the reason he’d wanted those working the event to dress up like the guests, so that they would give off the picture of wealth and the kind of edge that only those with power could achieve.
Odin had removed the golden collar pin from himself and placed it on Hunter without a word. The only reason the older boy had let him had been because he was the boss’s son, but Odin had felt this sort of electricity buzzing between them when he’d been standing there, a foot shorter but close enough he could have kissed him if he’d gotten on his tiptoes. The pin had two chains that dangled between the clasps, and on the shorter of the two, there’d been a small golden snowflake no bigger than his thumbnail.
