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Over his dead body.
Chapter 6:
It felt like there was a tiny inferno blazing at his back. Groaning uncomfortably as he was pulled from his sleep, Hunter tried to escape the heat, only to find himself trapped in a vicelike grip. He grumbled and fought against it, trying to dig his fingers against whatever was holding him as he was dragged even more into the waking world.
Blinking, he was met with the dark room. He’d shut the lights off and gone to bed after waiting practically the entire day for Odin to return. Last night he hadn’t. At some point, Loni had knocked and then asked if she could enter, but all she’d done was walk in and pick Odin’s multi-slate off the ground. When he’d asked what was going on, she’d merely shrugged and then left without so much as a word.
To say he was annoyed would be an understatement. But there was something else lurking beneath the surface as well. Something a little like worry.
Odin was gone for long periods of time sure, sometimes even the entire day, but he didn’t stay out forever. He always came back, and yet…
Hunter stilled, finally coming fully awake and realizing what it was wrapped around his waist. A relieved breath stuttered out of him before he could help it, and he stopped trying to claw Odin’s arm off of him.
“Hey,” his voice sounded too loud in the otherwise silence, and he lowered it to an almost whisper, “turn down the heat.”
Odin mumbled something and pressed in closer.
“Snow,” he tapped him on the wrist, “seriously. You’re about to burn me alive.”
The larger man stilled behind him, tensing. A moment later, the burning sensation dwindled to a pleasing warmth instead. “Sorry.”
Hunter’s brow lifted at the out-of-character apology murmured against his nape. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” Odin said, “go back to sleep.”
He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t turn around in the other man’s hold, and it wasn’t too long after that he heard Odin’s breathing even out.
If he was sleeping, obviously there was nothing wrong. Maybe he’d had a bad dream or something and that’s why he’d been burning up.
Hunter fluffed the pillow beneath his head and closed his eyes, trying not to notice how good that warmth coming off the Shout now felt. Or how it seemed to instantly lull him into a sense of security he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe even ever.
* * *
He was alone when he woke later. It was the chill at his back that gave it away, and for a moment, Hunter merely lay there, staring blankly at the wall across from him. It was difficult to tell time locked up, but it had to have been three, if not four, months since he’d been kidnapped off the streets and brought here against his will.
And now, in order to finally make it out of this room, he’d have to give over all of himself to the devil.
With a sigh, he pushed himself into a sitting position and dropped his head into his hands. There was no going back; he’d already made a deal with Snow to go through with it, and even though it’d been over twenty-four hours since, a better solution had yet to present itself to him.
Besides, a sick and twisted part of him was a little excited about mating with the Dominus. A part that made Hunter groan and inwardly scold himself for his stupidity. Years spent on the run, trying to escape the Brumal, and where did he end up? Not only held captive but actually wanting to be.
He was sick and he needed help. In more ways than one.
Snorting, he tossed the comforter off and stood, stretching his arms above his head. He had no clue how long he’d been asleep, but there were knots in his shoulders and an ache in his back from sleeping in the same position for too long.
Hunter was in the process of turning toward the end table to catch sight of the clock when he spotted the blood.
There was a small puddle of it staining the pillow next to the one he’d been using. When he touched it, it was dry, meaning it’d been there for a while.
Without thinking about his actions, he spun to the door and pounded on it, calling out for Loni. It wasn’t long before the panel at the side lit up and her face appeared on the small square screen.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Thorn?” she asked.
“Open up!” He slammed his palms against the door with enough force that he felt it vibrate up his arms, but she merely shook her head coolly.
“You know I can’t do that,” she replied.
“Is he hurt?” he blurted, and when she frowned, he hit the door again. “Call him.”
