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“No,” he shook his head. “You aren’t. Partnership? Not interested. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever willingly get into bed with you again. Allow me to use this opportunity to set the record straight. Everything you took from me? I’ll be taking it back. No matter what your intentions may have been, coming after my people was too far. Guard yourself, brother. This is war.”
The temperature in the room dropped so quickly, Odin didn’t get the chance to fight against it. It went from comfortable to freezing in the blink of an eye, Isa slowly rising from the couch, watching as Odin’s breath caught in his throat, ice practically freezing all the way down to his lungs.
He stumbled back a half step, catching himself on the bar's edge, glaring while Isa approached. Internally, he reached for his own power, called to the heat and the fire until it practically poured out of him in waves, but it was like he was battering with his bare fists against a wall of ice, the cold constantly beating him back.
Since when was Isa so strong? This was nothing like when they’d gone toe-to-toe at the Faraway Mansion, but then, Isa had clearly been holding back.
Odin slapped his hand away when Isa reached for his chin, his skin turning purple where they touched. He hissed and focused on warming that area, his power healing it quickly so the flesh returned to normal.
“What was that?” Isa tipped his ear toward him. “Something about a cold hell, wasn’t it? Poor choice of words, don’t you think? If it’s hell you wanted, all you had to do was ask.” He lifted his other hand, managing to stroke his knuckles over the bruise on Odin’s head, then down the side of his face.
Ice formed on his skin and Odin pushed his magic there as well before permanent damage could set in.
“I’ve been kind,” Isa continued. “Patient, even. And how did you meet that kindness? You brought Hunter into my home and—”
At the sound of his Huntsman’s name leaving Isa’s disgusting lips, Odin lost it. Fury fueled the flames within him, and they exploded, engulfing his body to sweep outward at the room, forcing Isa to retreat or be swallowed whole.
Fire licked at the end of the couch, set the wooden coffee table ablaze. The snapping and popping of the wood was loud enough to draw the two soldiers who’d been dutifully waiting in the hall.
Now, they burst into the room, First and Arl freezing in the doorway, so shocked by the sight they seemed to forget all about their jobs and positions.
Isa had moved far enough away to escape harm, for the most part. He had to pat down the end of his shirt where an ember had caught the cloth and started to burn it, but he was otherwise unscathed.
Odin wanted to burn him alive and listen to the sound of his bones cracking.
Reaching back, he set his palms on the bar, instantly lighting that on fire as well so the flames rose behind him like a live thing. He remained untouched, not even his clothes affected.
“Keep his fucking name out of your mouth,” Odin growled, so darkly that it caused both First and Arl to flinch, despite the fact the words weren’t directed at them. “The Huntsman is mine.”
“I’ve taken everything else from you, why not—”
Odin heaved a fireball at Isa without thinking about the repercussions.
The Frost Dominus lifted his arm in time to block the attack with a shield of ice. The fireball melted through it, but nothing else happened but a puddle of water dropping to the ground to seep into the still-burning carpet.
“That was a mistake.” Gone was any calm from Isa’s tone. “You want to see which of us will come out on top? All right, brother. Let’s have it your way.”
Arl didn’t even try to stop Isa when the Dominus turned and stormed out of the room.
First remained a moment longer, clearly still shocked and frozen in place before he shook his head and seemed to snap out of it. He rushed after his boss after sending Odin one nervous glance and that was it.
All at once, Odin killed the flames in the room, putting them out with a thought. He slumped back against the bar, which was miraculously still mostly intact, and tried to get ahold of his unraveling emotions.
Arl was smart enough to remain silent the entire time.
Chapter 8:
Hunter was sitting on the couch by the fireplace reading when Odin walked in. The second he did, the Huntsman looked over at him with a frown.
He’d been worried enough to call yesterday, yet he didn’t even bother to set the book aside now that Odin was actually here, and…
That only fanned the flames still flickering inside of him.
With a growl, Odin stalked forward, shoving one of the chairs at the table out of the way instead of simple walking around it. He’d waited until he’d been certain that Isa had left the building and was no longer nearby before he’d exited Greeting Room Six and headed up here. His bedroom’s location wasn’t exactly public knowledge, and the last thing he wanted was for his step-brother to know where Hunter was being kept.
“What’s—” The Huntsman made to stand, only to be shoved back down, the book clattering to the floor. He glared at Odin. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking,” he said flatly, hands roaming up and down Hunter’s chest, diving beneath the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing to stroke against his abs and tweak his nipples. Odin rested a knee on the couch between Hunter’s thighs, forcing the other man to spread them wider to accommodate him and leaned in, capturing his mouth in one swift motion.
