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Odin didn’t agree, but that was neither here nor there. Hunter wouldn’t listen to him in his current state. Until he accepted his fate, he wouldn’t ever. It’d taken a day just for him to exhaust himself enough for Odin to get close again. How long would it take to convince him to mate? Weeks? Months?
They didn’t have that long.
He may have managed to keep this secret all these years, but even the small chance that another Shout could discover what Hunter was before Odin had mated him…A low growl slipped past his lips and Odin froze.
Hunter made a soft sound, small, with a hint of fear, but he didn’t rouse. When Odin risked lightly running his fingers through the damp locks of dark hair on his forehead, Hunter didn’t pull away either.
Taking it a step further, Odin shifted onto his side so that he was lying behind the Whisper, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him still as he moved until they were flush against one another. He waited again, smiling slightly in triumph when nothing happened, and flattened his palm against the center of Hunter’s chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat reverberated through him.
Hunter had worked himself into a frenzy before Odin had backed off and retreated to the sitting area of the room, and though that had been hours ago, his skin was still covered in a sheen of sweat.
Odin activated his power and sent waves of warmth through all the places they touched, basking in the sudden feeling of rightness unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d been so angry with Hunter for their past, and while that anger still lingered somewhat, for the most part, the animosity had been replaced with a need to protect.
He was a Shout and Hunter was a Whisper. All those longing glances passed between them as kids, the way Odin had felt drawn to him even though he’d denied it…It all made sense now. On some, deep-rooted level, a part of him must have known.
Hunter Thorn was made for him.
“Even if it takes weeks,” he whispered, voice so low it was barely audible, “or months. Even if I have to break you down first, I’ll make you see what I do. You’re mine, Huntsman. Like you were always meant to be.”
Odin held him in the dark, relishing the moment while he could.
Come morning, it was very likely they’d be repeating today's events from start to finish.
He grinned and rested his chin on the top of Hunter’s head. “Bring it on, little Whisper.”
For now, he’d let Hunter bleed him as many times as he needed.
Later, once the mating had been completed, Odin would return the favor tenfold.
Chapter 1:
“Go away.” Those words had never worked before but he tried them again now anyway. He had to. He couldn’t give in. Hostility was all he had left.
Hunter Thorn was trapped.
And the man keeping his hostage was currently walking across the room, casually undoing the buttons of his dress shirt as if he wasn’t a complete and total monster.
“This is my room,” Odin said, voice even and light. He’d only just returned from business somewhere in the club on the lower levels of the building and had been gone most of the day. His suit was crisp and the shade of pine needles, the silk shiny in the dim overhead light set in the center of the elegant bedroom.
Odin Snow’s bedroom.
It’d been decorated in muted tones of white, gold, and black, with the large king-sized bed pressed against the right wall. A dresser and wardrobe made of dark wood were on the opposite side of the entrance, the bathroom door next to them. Then there was a sitting area in front of a fireplace, which was almost always lit, the orange flames flickering, the sound of popping logs the only other noise amongst them.
There was enough space for Hunter to run around even, if he wanted, but still. No matter how big the room, a cage was still just a cage. And he’d grown sick of his.
“Let me out.” He’d wanted to sound confident and demanding, but his voice shook a little at the end.
Odin paused in the process of removing his multi-slate—the body-born computer everyone carried around—from his pocket. He regained his composure quickly enough, however, setting the device on top of the dresser before slipping out of his jacket and hanging it up. He was meticulous in his movements, slow and steady.
It was a rouse.
Hunter was sitting in the center of the bed, the rumpled charcoal sheets and comforter beneath him. He’d put his clothes back on as soon as he’d woken but it was only a matter of time before they were forcibly stripped off again, and this little dance they were doing, the same one that had been going on for over a week now, was proof of that.
Either Odin thought he was heightening the anticipation, or he was torturing Hunter on purpose. There was no way to be sure, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to cave and ask outright. He was clinging onto the last thread of pride he had left, clutching it tightly despite how obvious the outcome was going to be.
Odin Snow, the Snow Dominus of the Brumal mafia, always got what he wanted. And if he wanted Hunter…
He gulped before he could help it, shifting on the bed to keep Odin in front of him as the other man tugged off his silk dress shirt and moved toward the bathroom door.
