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Though they were identical, and she’d been the one who’d messed up at the gala, Hunter quickly decided that she was his preferred twin. Corbi had a darkness that surrounded her, this sensation that warned anyone who came into contact that she was dangerous, and she liked it that way. While there was no doubt Loni was also just as capable, she was more subtle. She held herself calmly, detached. Hunter even forgot she was there a time or two.
The top level where he’d been kept all this time was clearly Odin’s living quarters. There was a massive kitchen at one end of the single level, which stretched across the entire expanse of the building. A gym was at the other end, and between them rested several rooms. Some had a purpose, like a library and the training room where dummies with holes riddled through their foam bodies were set up, but others were merely extra bedrooms.
He’d wondered if they had any permanent owners. Did Odin invite his friends to stay the night often?
Did Odin even have any real friends?
Hunter would say there were at least one or two if he had to guess. Odin had always been popular. People flocked to him like moths to a flame.
He’d been one of them.
The second level was all training gear and office space. When he’d asked, Loni had informed him that many of the Snow Brumal operated from there. It kept them close to the main club and close to the Dominus in case anything went amiss downstairs. It was also where Vetle lived. He hadn’t bothered lingering for long.
Finally, he’d made his way down to the main floor, the one open to the public and most well-known throughout the country. Club Cherry was bursting with life, with dance rooms where loud music blared from hidden speakers and neon strobe lights lit up undulating bodies as they rubbed together in the semi-dark.
He’d passed that section quickly, ignoring the hands that had reached out, attempting to pull him into the sea of strangers. He hadn’t had to ask Loni to know most of them were already high and drunk.
Another section was less…colorful. The room was bathed in red lighting with soft mood music. Glasses clinked, and occupants spoke in hushed whispers amongst themselves. The room was filled with plush velvet sofas and lounges, with people sprinkled about so that there was no empty space—not that Hunter felt the urge to stop here.
He knew what this room was for and recognized the Snow family emblem pinned to various women's and men’s outfits, some on their shirts, others on the ends of their pants or skirts.
These were all workers with their clientele. Now and again, a couple got up and disappeared down a narrow hallway to the far right of the room. He didn’t need to go down there to figure out where the private rooms were.
This was the only time Loni had spoken to him without prompting, leaning in to quietly reassure him that since he wasn’t wearing Odin’s symbol, no one would approach him. There was a comfort in knowing he wouldn’t be mistaken as a sex worker, but he’d merely nodded his head at her and started moving once more.
In the end, Hunter ended up in the bar area. The space was just as large as the others, with a dance floor in the very center. There weren’t strobe lights here, the same red, smoky ambiance of the other room carried over, but the music was livelier and there were almost as many people as in the first section of the club.
Red booths lined three of the walls, with pool tables sprinkled about on the outskirts of the dance area. A long bar stretched from one end of the room to the other, with half a dozen bartenders busily working behind it.
Hunter momentarily considered asking for a drink, but he didn’t have any money on him, and he wasn’t sure taking the edge off with alcohol was even worth it. He’d been debating whether or not he should ask Loni if he could at least get something to eat when a familiar laugh caught his attention.
His head turned instinctually, eyes catching sight of Odin at the other side of the room.
He was sitting in the center of a large booth shaped like a C, set against the wall and on a dais with a single step to the main floor. His outfit was nothing like the one Hunter had seen him in last, the night of the gala. Instead of the fine suit, he wore ripped black pants and a silky, blood-red shirt. He’d tucked it in, emphasizing his narrow waist, and had also left the top four buttons undone, exposing swaths of tanned flesh and the distinct swell of his first two abs.
Odin had changed his hair, the color a rich mahogany now. It suited him.
He wasn’t alone. Men and women lined the booth with him, with one at either side sitting far closer than Hunter was comfortable with.
They were flirting, too, obviously trying to get Odin’s attention by leaning in and stroking their fingers against his thighs. The female was wearing a skintight red dress that barely covered anything at all, and the male was in long pants and an open black vest with nothing on underneath. He was fit, attractive.
Either one of them could easily be considered Odin’s type.
Hunter scowled.
Of course, that was the moment Odin glanced over, singling Hunter out from the crowd as if drawn to him.
Hunter straightened, and the corner of Odin’s mouth tipped up.
He lifted his arms and rested them on the back of the booth, behind both of his close companions.
The woman took this as an invitation and snuggled in closer, dancing her fingers down his bare chest until her hand partially disappeared beneath red silk.
Hunter turned away quickly, giving his back to the scene and making his way over to the bar after all. He signaled one of the bartenders, completely forgetting that he was broke a moment before the well-dressed man—also wearing Odin’s pin on the side of his crisp vest—came over to take his order.
Loni stepped up before he could apologize and leave. “This is Hunter Thorn.”
Recognition of the name dawned on the bartender's face, and he smiled politely at Hunter. “Good evening, Mr. Thorn. What can I get for you tonight?”
