Don’t Breathe a Word

A Whisper in the Dark, #2

Chani Lynn Feener

ALSO BY CHANI LYNN FEENER
The Underworld Saga

Unhinged
Unleashed
Unbound
Unabated

The Xenith Trilogy

Amid Stars and Darkness

Between Frost and Fury
Within Ash and Stardust

The Roses Red Trilogy

Tithe
Revelry
Accord

Seven Deadlies

Bad Things Play Here

The Goblin Path

Two Worlds Duology

Across From You

Ulalume
A Bright Celestial Sea
Gods of Mist and Mayhem
A Sea of Endless Light
Abandoned Things
 Don’t Breathe
A Word
A Whisper in the Dark, #2

Chani Lynn Feener

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's
imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Don’t Breathe a Word

Copyright @ 2023 by Chani Lynn Feener.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form
without written permission from the author.
Front Cover design by QuirkyCirce.

Printed in the United States of America.

First edition—2023
 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 and 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, 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 racking up 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.
Odin slipped inside, the sound of moving items at the sink coming
for a second, followed by running water. The water kept going even when
he returned, stopping between the doorway and the bed. He met Hunter’s
gaze and silently waited.
“No.” Hunter shook his head and shifted back another half foot.
“It’s been a few days,” Odin chided. “You need to wash.”
He didn’t bother asking how Snow could be certain Hunter wasn’t
showering during the day while he was alone, a bit too afraid of the answer.
“It has not,” he disagreed. “You clean me every night…after.” He
couldn’t bring himself to say it, flushing in embarrassment when a knowing
glint entered Odin’s deep brown eyes.
“Don’t act like a child afraid of bath time,” he said, but it was clear
from the upward tilt of his ruby-red lips that Odin was getting off on this
exchange. He typically did. He liked when Hunter fought back, so much so,
that more than once Hunter had considered giving in just to wipe that
challenging glint off his face.
The impossibility of his situation was all that kept him from doing
so. All that would do was replace the challenging look with one of smug
satisfaction.
“I’m not,” he stated. “I’m acting like a pet because you’re treating
me like one.”
 Odin cocked his head. “You’re free to leave this room whenever you
want.”
“Liar.”
He took a step closer to the bed, slow and careful, clearly trying not
to spook Hunter with his approach.
It didn’t work. Hunter’s gaze dropped down the length of his bare
chest and he crawled back another foot. Soon, he’d run out of bed and it
was never good when his feet touched the ground. At least here, in the sea
of blankets, on the mattress which had sides that needed climbing over, he
stood a chance. Odin was faster and stronger. He’d be on him in a heartbeat
if he so much as planted a toe on the ground.
Hunter wasn’t sure when or how the rules of their twisted game had
been set, only that he knew them, and knew that so long as he remained
safely on the bed, Odin wouldn’t pounce. He’d simply…wait.
And Odin Snow was nothing if not patient. The day after Hunter
was first brought here, he’d used violence whenever the Dominus came
near. Odin had moved off to the sitting area and waited for hours until the
stress of his situation had finally gotten the better of him and Hunter had
passed out.
When he’d woken, it was to find himself encased in the other man’s
arms, Odin’s chin resting on his shoulder. Even in sleep, he’d held onto
Hunter so tightly he hadn’t even been able to wiggle a centimeter free of his
hold.
“All you have to do is mate with me,” Odin said, as if Hunter hadn’t
even spoken. He took another step. “Agree, Huntsman, and we can forget
all about the bath. I’ll unlock the door for you right now.”
“This door, maybe.”
That hit a nerve and a muscle in Odin’s jaw ticked. “A bigger cage
is better than a smaller one.”
“Admitting you’re keeping me caged now?” Hunter pulled himself
back, feeling the edge of the bed.
Odin was close enough on the other side that all he’d have to do was
dive for him and that’d be it, but he didn’t. “It’s not just to satisfy me. I’m
keeping you safe, Little Whisper.”
“Don’t call me that!” The biggest mistake of his life had been
leaving that room last week. Doing so resulted in him running into a
psycho, getting drugged, and sleeping with Odin. During which, in his
drugged-out state, he’d confessed to his greatest secret.
There weren’t many of his kind, if any, left on the planet, a world
once rife with beings who could wield power over the elements and
counterparts who could boost their ability. Shouts were also few and far
between, with the three known strongest being the rulers of the Brumal
mafia, a criminal organization that ran everything from the lower streets all
the way up to the top levels of the government.
“There’s no use in denying what you are,” Odin told him gently.
“You’re a Whisper and I’m a Shout. We were made for each other,
Huntsman. Mating with me is in your best interest as well as mine. If other
Shout’s found out—”
“They won’t unless you tell them,” Hunter cut him off. “If neither of
us says anything, if we keep it a secret, no one will know. You could let me
go and—”
“I warned you what would happen the last time you tried to
convince me to release you,” his gaze darkened, “or do you not recall?”
Hunter’s breath caught in his throat and he froze. It’d only been a
few days since that threat had been made and in his haste to try and talk
some sense into Odin, he’d forgotten all about it. That tended to be the case
whenever being a Whisper was brought up.
As a Shout, Odin could control heat, and though he was already one
of the most powerful men on the planet, it wasn’t enough. He’d been at a
tentative peace with his step-brother for years now, but a few weeks ago
that peace had been shaken. Right after they’d slept together, as soon as the
drug had finally left Hunter’s system, Odin had openly told him about his
new plans.
He was going to use Hunter.
Whisper’s had the ability to boost a Shout’s power with their blood.
Keeping one around meant an unlimited power source, and while it was
only necessary to keep them breathing, mating with a Whisper had an even
stronger affect.
Overnight, Odin had gone from seemingly hating Hunter to staking
a claim on him.
But it wasn’t about liking him or romance or any of that other
fairytale bullshit. Odin wanted him simply because not having him meant
leaving it up to chance that Isa might get a hold of Hunter instead. Having
him meant getting the upper hand against his step-brother whom he’d hated
with a burning passion for over a decade now.
It had nothing to do with Hunter and everything to do with what
Hunter was. And…he couldn’t agree to mate someone for a reason like that,
right?
Hunter had to respect himself more than that. No one else was going
to.
Lost in his tumbling thoughts, he almost didn’t register Odin had
moved until it was too late. The Snow Dominus had practically completed
circling the bed, was almost at the side Hunter was perched on.
With a start, Hunter shoved forward, climbing over the mattress and
dropping to the floor with little thought to what that meant. His eyes were
locked on the open bathroom, and he thought maybe if he could make it
there he could slam the door shut and—
He cried out as he was roughly spun around and slammed against
the wall, right next to the doorway. His head hit with a sharp thwack, but
before he could process the slight pain, hands were roaming down his chest,
tearing at the plain t-shirt he’d taken from the wardrobe that morning.
The material shredded easily for Odin, and the Dominus splayed his
fingers across the center of Hunter’s chest possessively, trailing his palm
down as he kept him pinned to the wall with that single hand. His other
made quick work of the boxer briefs Hunter was wearing, tugging the
material down his legs, leaving it bunched at his ankles.
Hunter tried to kick him but Odin dropped his knees over the tops of
his feet, applying enough pressure to keep him still without hurting him.
“Don’t—” His sentence turned to a gurgling mess as suddenly
Odin’s mouth was on him, swallowing his flaccid cock in one swift motion.
Hunter tossed his head back, crying out as he worked his tongue over and
around him, the sensations quickly making him hard and achy.
Odin sucked him deep, hallowing out his cheeks and humming
when his crown hit the back of his throat. When that had Hunter writhing
against the wall, he picked up the pace, mercilessly sucking him into a
frenzied stupor.
The sparks if sensation skittered all over Hunter’s body and he tried
to pull Odin off, grabbing a fist full of Odin’s dirty blond hair.
It had to have hurt, but the Dominus merely grunted and glared up at
him warningly before a rush of heat pulsed from his lips around Hunter’s
dick. He shoved his power into Hunter, filling him up with that warmth as
he scrapped his teeth lightly over him, just grazing the overly sensitive skin.
The combination of his magic and his mouth shoved Hunter over the
edge, blindsiding him with the suddenness of it all. His mouth gaped open
as he cried out and emptied down Odin’s throat.
Odin swallowed every drop, only pulling off when Hunter lost
feeling in his legs. He scooped him up into his arms and carried him into
the bathroom, using his heel to slam the door shut behind them.
The bath tub was already filled, the water having automatically shut
itself off some time ago, and steam wafted off the surface. The room was
clouded by it, the mirror already fogged over so that Hunter barely made
out his reflection as they passed it.
This wasn’t the first time Odin had brought him in here and bathed
him, so when he found himself set down in the water with the other man
crawling on top of him instead of settling behind like usual that earlier
panic he’d momentarily forgotten about returned full force.
The water was hot against his skin, the rim of the porcelain tub solid
against his shoulder blades, but Odin was just as hot when Hunter slapped a
palm against his chest in a poor attempt to stop him from settling over him.
“What are you doing?” Hunter asked, his voice thready and a bit
frazzled.
Odin captured his wrist and forced it over his head against the tile of
the bathroom wall, shifting onto his knees and using them to spread
Hunter’s thighs so he could settle more firmly between them. “Making good
on my warning.”
“What—” Right. Hunter struggled, but only managed to splash
water over the edge of the tub before his other wrist was caught and secured
as well.
“I told you, Huntsman,” Odin practically purred as he brought his
face close to his, “every time you try and convince me to let you leave, I get
anxious thinking you’re going to try and run.” He licked a line up the left
curve of Hunter’s jaw, up to his ear. “What did I say I want to do to you
whenever that happens?”
“Snow.” He tried to ignore the spark of anticipation that wiggled its
way through the fear. Tried not to think about how his dick was growing
hard all over again, or how Odin was most definitely aware of that fact as
well, with how it was pressed against his lower abdomen as if silently
begging for something Hunter himself didn’t want. “Please.”
Odin hummed his disapproval in his ear. “The time for begging has
passed, I’m afraid. You can try again tomorrow.”
“No—”
“I said,” he interrupted, pulling back to hold Hunter’s gaze with his
own as one of his hands slipped between them, “I would fuck you so hard
and so often you wouldn’t be able to walk for days, let alone run.” He
brushed the backs of his knuckles down the soft inner flesh of Hunter’s
thigh, the touch deceptively gentle. “That’d I’d stuff your ass with my cock
and fill you with my come until your voice is so hoarse from screaming my
name you won’t be able to speak either.”
Hunter shook his head, but it was already too late and he knew it.
“When are you going to realize, Huntsman,” Odin said, “that you’re
mine?”
He slammed a finger into Hunter’s hole, plowing through him in one
swift motion, the façade of being gentle completely stripped away. When he
pulled out, he added a second, working them past the tight ring of
resistance, ignoring Hunter’s mules of pain.
“It burns,” Hunter told him, struggling to free his bound wrists from
Odin’s other hand. He squeezed his eyes shut when those fingers were
scissored within him.
“Should have thought of that before,” Odin chided, pumping his
fingers in all the way roughly, only to pull them out and shove them back
in. The water sloshed around them, the sound mixing with Hunter’s sounds
of protest.
“You’re a sick fuck,” he growled, “for hurting me every time I say
something you don’t like.”
Odin quirked a brow but didn’t slow. “I wouldn’t do this if you
didn’t enjoy it.”
“Liar.” He glared, but Odin merely shrugged.
“I suppose we’ll never know.” He added a third finger.
Hunter’s back bowed, the sting easing into an intense rush of
pleasure as if someone had flipped a switch.
Odin’s mouth latched onto his nipple, sucking hard enough to have
him gasping before he nipped at the bud with his teeth. He continued
upwards, his lips painting open mouth kisses across Hunter’s chest, up to
the hollow of his throat and over to the other side of his neck. He bit him
hard, not enough to draw blood but enough to have Hunter jolting beneath
him, inadvertently forcing those fingers deep.
Releasing his wrists, Odin pulled back, slipping his fingers free as
well.
Hunter blinked and stared at him as Odin grabbed beneath his thighs
and spread him as wide as the sides of the tub would allow. He swallowed,
the anticipation growing to a boil so that he couldn’t even find his voice
long enough to utter another protest. His eyes dropped lower, catching sight
of Odin’s thick, proud cock just beneath the water, and he gulped.
That was enough to spur Odin on. He flicked his hips forward,
driving into Hunter’s body to the hilt.
He made a strangled sound as he was stuffed full, light momentarily
winking in his vision as a fresh wash of pleasure and pain hit him. He tried
to close his legs but was forced to keep them open by strong palms.
Odin started thrusting, sharp, deep movements that had his balls
slapping against the globes of Hunter’s ass and the water continuously
sloshing out of the tub. He took him hard, his expression growing darker
with each pump of his hips, that familiar primal look morphing his features.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he commanded, growling when Hunter
shook his head. He settled a hand over his throat, tipping his head back.
“Say it.”
“No.” Hunter moaned when Odin twisted his hips, causing his
massive cock to bump against different parts of his inner walls.
When he pulled out, the head stroked up against his prostate, and
with short, even thrusts he continued to rub directly at it until tears were
prickling at the corners of Hunter’s eyes.
“Mate me,” Odin said, only to be denied again. With a roar, he
drove in deep, forcefully so that Hunter’s body bent, his knees practically at
his shoulders now. Odin merely held him there and fucked into him with
more vigor. “If you want me to go easy on you, tell me you’re mine,
Huntsman.”
Hunter’s dick was trapped between them, being squeezed and
rubbed and he felt his balls tighten. He was so close. “Harder.”
Odin made a sound part chuckle part annoyance, but complied with
the demand, battering Hunter’s insides furiously. It was a wonder he didn’t
tear him in two with his cock alone.
 Finally, Hunter felt him bump that spot again and tumbled over the
edge. He exploded, dirtying the water as he unloaded for the second time
that night, his dick twitching and spurting even as Odin continued to abuse
his stretched hole.
And kept going.
And going.
Hunter groaned, the first feeling of discomfort at being practically
bent in half and stuffed with thick cock slipping through his slowly
dissipating blissed-out state. He pushed at Odin’s shoulders, but the other
guy didn’t let up at all.
“Stop,” he said, crying out when that earned him a nip at his knee.
“It’s starting to feel weird.” He was slipping into oversensitivity which was
not a sensation he was overly found of.
Thankfully, Odin came then, bathing his insides in heat that Hunter
felt sweep up his body to the tips of his ears. The orgasm lasted a long time,
an entire minute going by with Odin’s cock plugging him up before finally
exiting.
Hunter sighed and went lax as his legs were finally lowered, his
muscles feeling like jelly. He clenched on nothing below for a moment and
flinched at the sparks of feeling that caused, completely and totally spent.
He may have started drifting off even, until the sound of Odin tsking
at him pulled him back.
The Snow Dominus was kneeling over him, peering down at him
with a possessive, heated look that caused the breath to catch in Hunter’s
throat.
“Don’t even think about sleep now, Huntsman,” Odin said. “I’m
nowhere near finished with you.”
Before Hunter could reply, he found himself flipped over and
repositioned on all fours. A split second later, Odin lined himself up and
rammed his cock back inside.
Hunter’s screams echoed against the bathroom walls.
 CHAPTER 2:

“Is that really your plan?” Wren Shen, the head of the Hail family
branch of the Brumal clicked his tongue. He was seated in his usual place in
the middle of the leather couch in Odin’s private office, arms spread out
over the back, ankles crossed, boots up on the end of the low-standing
coffee table. “You’re just going to fuck him into submission?”
Having grown up together, few people on the planet could say they
knew the real Odin Snow, and he also happened to be one of the handfuls
who was considered a friend on top of it. When the Snow family had been
overthrown, he’d sided with Odin, helping him from the shadows until Odin
had been strong enough to make a return.
Now, ten years later, he’d managed to reclaim his family name and
their stance within the Brumal, but he’d yet to complete his revenge. Odin
stood in front of his desk and poured himself a drink from the expensive
glass bottle his friend had already taken out and opened, humming in the
affirmative in response to Wren’s question.
“Are you certain that’s going to work?” Wren didn’t sound
convinced. He shook his head at him when Odin finally came back over,
waiting for him to drop down onto the couch across from him before
adding, “You still haven’t told me why the sudden change in the first
place.”
“It’s going to work,” Odin replied, sipping at his drink, mind
conjuring the image of Hunter snuggled up against his side this morning.
Odin had stuck true to his word. He’d taken the other man another three
times in the bathtub, then again bent over the sink, then twice more in their
bed. By the time he’d finished with him, Hunter had been reduced to mush,
easily manipulated in Odin’s hold.
He’d cleaned them both then climbed beneath the sheets and pulled
the Huntsman in close, but it’d been Hunter who’d wrapped his arms
around his waist and clung to him. Hunter who’d nuzzled his cheek against
the curve of Odin’s neck and sighed in sleepy satisfaction.
 He’d fallen asleep with a smile on his lips. Odin had felt it.
“He’s stubborn,” he said. “After everything he’s been through, that
makes sense. He needs time to adjust and come around to his new reality,
that’s all.”
“Which is?” Wren asked.
“That he’s mine.” Odin stared his friend down warningly, only to
have Wren roll his eyes.
“Relax, Snow. I don’t know what brought on this sudden change or
why you’re so obsessed with him now, but I’ve no interest in Hunter Thorn.
Or dying.”
Odin snorted. “I would have to kill you, that’s true.”
“Good to know.” He dropped his feet to the ground and rested his
arms on his knees. “Why?”
He may be one of, if not his only, real friend, but Odin had already
decided not to entrust Wren with what Hunter was either. The more people
who knew, the more dangerous for Hunter it became, and Odin had enough
on his plate as it were with trying to convince the other man to accept him.
He didn’t need to also worry about other Shouts sneaking in to try and steal
him away.
So instead of answering, he changed the subject. “Have there been
any other attacks?”
Wren sighed, defeated, and dropped back against the couch.
“Nothing. It seems that rat you killed was working alone after all.”
“You don’t sound pleased,” he noted.
“Sue me for wanting to have a bit of fun.”
A little over a week ago a man named Po had drugged Hunter.
Fortunately, Odin had made it in time to stop him before anything more
could happen, but they’d discovered that Po had been behind a string of
attacks in the Red Light District for months. He’d ordered his underboss,
Vetle, to interrogate him to find out if he’d been working alone. Right up
until Odin had arrived and slit his throat, he’d claimed he was.
Still, Odin had asked Wren to keep an eye out, just in case.
“Are you really that bored?” Odin chuckled. “I can give you a
room.”
Club Cherry, where he worked and lived, was the largest building in
Liaand Norra, the Red Light District in Ovid. It housed not only brothels of
various kinds but also a dance club and bars. The first floor was always
packed with bodies, alive with sin, while the second floor housed some of
the top members of the Brumal, and the third floor belonged to Odin alone.
“It’s tempting,” Wren said. “I did see someone interesting when I
walked in. I couldn’t tell if he was one of yours or not though.”
There were three types of workers, ones that simply did a service
such as bartending, ones that acted as security—typically unofficial
members of the Brumal who wanted to work their way up into the mafia—
and those who were there to service. Anyone who was there for sex work or
the like wore Odin’s family crest pinned over their heart to help signify
them. If someone tried to harass someone who wasn’t pinned, they’d be
dealt with.
“Describe him to Loni,” Odin suggested. “She was in charge of
hiring the new batch.”
“Right,” Wren grinned, “since you’ve been so…busy.”
“Speaking of,” Odin got to his feet, “I’ve left him alone long
enough.”
“What about Isa?” Wren said, serious all of sudden.
“What about him?” he asked tightly.
“You still haven’t heard from him since that night?”
The same night Hunter had been drugged, Isa Frost had paid his first
visit to Club Cherry. Up until that point, they’d sort of had a silent
understanding not to tread on each other's turf, but Odin supposed he’d
opened the door for this sort of thing when he’d attended the Octu Gala
held at Faraway Mansion, Ira’s current home.
The one he’d stolen from Odin and his family all those years ago.
Odin had gone intending to use Hunter to set Isa off. Sort of a, look
what I have now that you don’t. Only, that plan had backfired when it’d
become apparent that Isa had never cared for Hunter as Odin had
mistakenly believed. Still, it hadn’t been an entire bust. By exposing him,
Odin had affectively trapped Hunter with him more firmly.
If Hunter ever really did try to escape and made it out of the Red
Light District, he’d have the Frost family to deal with.
Odin was the lesser of two evils and they both knew it. More so
now.
Hunter was his Whisper. He would never hurt him. At least, not
outside of the bedroom.
 “Isa’s pride won’t let that kind of insult stand,” Wren warned. “The
fact you haven’t heard from him already makes me more nervous than not.
He’s planning something.”
“He must be,” Odin agreed.
“And your plans?”
“They’re coming along.”
“To clarify,” Wren stated with a smirk, “I meant the ones you have
for revenge, not the ones involving Hunter.”
“I’ve had to change some things,” Odin admitted. “But I’m working
on it still.” He’d been in the process of secretly buying up businesses in
Isa’s territory. The goal had been to be able to stake a claim there afterward,
but during his surprise visit, Isa had informed him he’d been aware of
Odin’s actions. He’d even had the gall to claim he’d allowed Odin to do it.
He’d considered putting a pause on the final couple of purchases
he’d had planned but then reconsidered. He wouldn’t bow out just because
Isa said he knew what was going on. If anything, that was only more
incentive for Odin to continue moving forward.
He could think of no better way to give his step-brother the
proverbial middle finger than by doing so.
“Vetle and Jita are taking care of that,” he said.
“While you keep yourself busy with—”
“Goodbye, Wren,” Odin cut him off and headed toward the metal
staircase on the other side of the office. It led up to a row of books and to a
door that would bring him directly onto the third floor. “Make sure to talk to
Loni about that boy you saw. Clearly you need to get laid.”
“Because I have so much time to think about other people’s
relationships?” Wren caught on, laughing when Odin made it to the top of
the stairs and paused to glare down at him. “Good luck, Snow.”
Speaking of the middle finger, Odin flipped him the bird and then
left.
He had a Huntsman to see.
***
He was in the shower when Odin arrived. He could hear the sound
of it going, and even though the bathroom door had been shut, it wasn’t
locked. Not that the lock would have kept Odin out anyway, a fact that
Hunter knew.
 The keypad at the side of the door could easily be activated by
Odin’s multi-slate. The only reason he hadn’t completely gotten rid of the
lock was to provide Hunter at least the illusion of privacy and a safe space.
Odin didn’t feel even slightly guilty. He wasn’t a good person, had
been raised since birth to take over the Brumal mafia. Had been trained in
the art of torture, and manipulation, and taught how to kill without
flinching. Having been a part of that world when they were teens, Hunter
was aware of this fact better than most.
In some ways, that was nice, because it meant Odin didn’t have to
hide who he was. In other ways, it meant Hunter was often terrified of him
and what he might do next. Sometimes that worked in his favor, other
times…
Odin entered the bathroom with little preamble, stripping out of his
black fishnet t-shirt and dropping it onto the heated tiles as he moved. He
could see Hunter through the frosted glass walls of the shower stall, made
out the second the other man realized he was no longer alone, his hands still
in his hair.
He was naked by the time he pulled the stall door open and stepped
inside, settling behind Hunter, who didn’t bother to turn to see who it was.
Part of Odin preened at that fact, at knowing if nothing else, Hunter
at least trusted him to keep him safe. No one else had access to this room,
and so long as Hunter continued to use it with him, no one ever would.
“How long did it take you to crawl your way in here?” Odin teased,
laughing when Hunter snorted derisively.
“I walked actually.”
“Careful, Huntsman, that sounds like a challenge. Are you saying I
didn’t make good on my promise?” He lowered his tone. “Upset about
that?”
He was silent a long moment before finally whispering in a hiss, “It
took me like fifteen minutes just to get myself out of bed. Happy, asshole?”
Chuckling, Odin reached for the bottle of body wash, squeezing out
a good amount in his palm before rubbing his hands together. He kept his
touch light as he stroked down Hunter’s shoulders, following the curve of
his spine. When he reached the rise of his ass, he stopped his descent,
bringing his hands around Hunter’s hips to his front. The move had him
shifting closer so he could wrap his arms around him as he trailed his hands
up Hunter’s abs and over the rise of his pecs. He smeared soap everywhere
he touched, fingers lingering a little over the curve of his left collar bone
before moving to the other.
“Having fun?” Hunter’s husky, low-spoken voice cut through the
sound of the shower spray.
Behind him, the corner of Odin’s mouth tipped up. “I am. You?”
Hunter was quiet for a minute, standing still as Odin continued to
wash him. “I’m still sore from last night.”
The tentative way he spoke had Odin gentling his touch even more.
“I didn’t come in here for that.”
“Touch me lower,” Hunter surprised him by saying. He took him by
the left wrist and brought his hand down until the tips of Odin’s fingers
were touching his cock. “Here.”
Despite his first comment, the Huntsman was hard for him.
Odin grinned. “Should I?”
Hunter stiffed in his arms. “I’m not about to beg.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” Although, he wasn’t above admitting that was
a pretty picture in his mind now. His Huntsman, down on his knees, water
sloshing across his back as he stared up at Odin through wet bangs and—
He wrapped his fingers around Hunter’s hard length and gave one
solid stroke down to the flushed head of his cock. He was already sticky
with precome for him, and Odin groaned, burying his face against the curve
of Hunter’s throat as he worked him with measured pumps of his fist.
Hunter’s frantic breathing filled the shower stall, soft at first, so the
sounds were almost entirely swallowed by the rushing of water. But they
increased in volume the longer Odin jerked him off. He leaned back into
him, resting his weight across Odin’s chest as he moaned.
There was a good chance this was a test of some kind; Odin wasn’t a
fool. There had to be a reason for his Huntsman to suddenly go from
outright rejecting him to literally placing his hand on his cock for him. The
only other time this had occurred, he’d been hopped up on Magic Mirror, a
drug made to help get people in the mood.
Magic Mirror, a drug pushed exclusively by the Snow Family’s
section of the Brumal, didn’t make someone horny enough that they’d lay
with anybody that came along. Instead, it heightened the attraction someone
already felt for another person. Though he’d never taken it himself, Odin
understood it led to a good time and was also one of his bestselling
products. Considering he was the King of the Red Light Districts all across
the globe, that led to hefty sums lining his pockets every month.
Yet he’d been tempted to find the nearest warehouse and burn it to
the ground after Magic Mirror had been used against Hunter. Even if it’d
led to their first time, and the revelation that Hunter was a Whisper.
“Come for me,” Odin pressed a kiss to the curve of his ear, “my
Whisper.”
Hunter let out a strangled sound and came, spurting across the
shower to smear the far wall with his spunk. He twitched in Odin’s hold as
his orgasm racked through him, the noises continuing to rise in his throat as
his cock was stroked through the entire ordeal.
Odin didn’t let go until he’d slumped back into him, needing support
to remain on his feet. He clutched him close, wrapping his arms around
Hunter’s waist, giving him a moment to collect himself. All the while, he
stared at the come on the wall, a sick sense of pride swirling in the center of
his chest.
He’d done that. He’d made Hunter find release, had made him cry
out, moan, and shake. Whether the Huntsman continued to deny it or not,
there was physical proof before them. He wanted Odin back, wanted his
body, and his hands. His mouth and his cock.
And Odin wanted to give it to him. Wanted to bend him over right
here and now and thrust into his hole hard and deep.
But he wouldn’t.
Once he was certain Hunter could stand on his own again, he
removed an arm and reached back to get more soap. Then he cleaned his
front. The two remained silent as he worked, but Odin didn’t mind,
focusing on making sure he got every inch of him washed.
After, he shut off the spray and stepped out, grabbing a towel and
reaching back to help Hunter out after him. He dried him off first, paying
special mind to his inky colored hair, the wet strands shinny in the overhead
lighting.
“I’ll wait in the other room,” Hunter told him when he’d finished
and had started to dry himself. He didn’t meet Odin’s gaze as he slipped out
of the bathroom, quietly clicking the door shut behind him.
Odin took his time drying himself off, and then collected the
clothing he’d discarded carelessly onto the ground. He rolled them into a
ball and tossed them into the hamper, then exited with a towel slung low
around his hips to find that Hunter was sitting on the edge of the bed.
For all intents and purposes, he truly looked as if he’d been waiting.
He hadn’t bothered to dress and was still only in the towel Odin had
wrapped around him. The couple minutes alone seemed to have done the
trick for him, however, and he tipped his head back and locked eyes with
Odin when he heard him approach.
Reaching out, Odin brushed a strand of hair off of Hunter’s
forehead, then when the other man didn’t react or pull away, took it a step
further and dove his fingers through those still damp strands. Hunter let him
at first, but when he cupped the back of his head and slowly leaned in, the
Huntsman turned away.
Odin sighed and straightened, dropping his arm. “Are you hungry?”
Leaving Hunter on the bed, he went to the dresser and began
selecting a change of clothing for the both of them.
“Why haven’t you bled me?” Hunter asked suddenly, and it was
obvious by the way his voice shook at the end that he’d been working
himself up to this question for a while.
Odin paused with a black t-shirt in his hands, debating whether or
not it was in his best interest, to be honest. In the end, he couldn’t see a
reason not to and shrugged as he went back to sorting through clothes.
The day after they’d fucked for the first time, he’d ordered all of
Hunter’s things brought to his room, as well as for more items to be
purchased. Before, he’d kept Hunter in the same two sets of everything,
wanting him clean but needing there to be a clear line between them. He’d
kidnapped Hunter to keep him as a prisoner then. Now…
“You’re mine,” he said plainly. “There’ll be plenty of time for that
later if the situation ever calls for it.”
“Situation?” Hunter sounded nervous, but also a bit indignant.
He was trying so hard to cling to his pride, even in the face of all
this.
Odin was never going to let him go. Ever. Nothing and no one could
convince him otherwise, not even the Huntsman himself. Hunter could
either learn to adjust to his new life, or they could continue this game
between them until he was too worn out to bother. While Odin preferred the
first option, if they ended up with the second, that still wouldn’t change his
mind.
 He’d been raised to take. He’d taken Hunter. Plain and simple.
“I’m strong enough already,” Odin said, coming back over with the
clothing. “There’s no reason to take your blood right now.”
“What about Isa?”
Odin dropped down and began slipping Hunter’s legs through a pair
of red boxer briefs. “Don’t worry about him.”
“That’s not possible,” Hunter stated.
“I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised, but somehow that was the
wrong thing to say.
“I’m not weak!” Hunter shot to his feet, the move almost causing
Odin to fall back. “And I can dress myself!” He yanked the underwear the
rest of the way up his thighs and over his hips, glaring down at Odin all the
while.
Odin allowed him to for a heartbeat or so before he slowly rose,
until they were both standing and Hunter had to tip up his chin in order to
maintain eye contact. “I’ve never called you weak, Huntsman. How could
you be?” He took a step forward, bumping against Hunter, forcing him to
drop back down onto the bed. “You’re mine. Do I look like the type of man
who’d claim something fragile and burdensome?”
He rested his hands on either side of Hunter and leaned in a second
time, bringing his face right up to his. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give
it to you. But—” he added when Hunter opened his mouth, not letting him
speak, “don’t ask me to let you go. I won’t, and you’ll only piss me off. Do
you need a repeat of last night after all? I’m practicing restraint for you
already, but if you push me too far, I can easily stop playing nice and take
that sweet ass of yours again.”
Hunter’s gaze absently dropped down to the towel still wrapped
around Odin’s hips, clearly noting the tent there between his legs.
“Pretending, you mean. You aren’t nice, Dominus. You never were.”
Odin’s eyes narrowed. “Want to rethink that last part, Huntsman?
I’ll give you the chance to.”
“Why?” Hunter shook his head. “Why give me any chances at all?”
He cocked his head, a bit thrown by the question. “Elaborate.”
“You haven’t forced the mating,” he blurted, going as still as
cornered prey once the words left his lips. “Why? It’s as you’ve said.
You’re strong already. Even forced, the bond between us once mated will
tie my blood to your power and give you strength.”
 Dimmed, in comparison to if the mating was mutually agreed upon.
Choice was a big deal for both Shouts and Whispers, something evolution
must have put in place to help ensure the continued survival of the species.
Fat good that’d done. They were both near to extinction, with
Hunter being the only Whisper Odin had personally encountered since he’d
been a child.
“I’ll force you to do a lot of things,” Odin told him, “but not that. If
that’s been a lingering fear on your mind, preventing you from trusting me,
set it aside. When we mate, it’ll be agreed upon by the both of us.”
Hunter frowned. “Why? For that added bit of power it’ll bring?”
He shook his head curtly and straightened. “Because I want all of
you, Huntsman. I’ll have all of you.”
Hunter snorted. “That sounds like you’re saying you want my heart
or something.”
He pretended to consider and hummed in agreement. “I’ll take that
too.”
Then he grinned, and his Huntsman shuddered.
 CHAPTER 3:

Hunter stabbed his fork violently into one of the mini potatoes
rolling around his plate and glared over at the locked door. He was eating
alone—again—and hating himself for being annoyed about that fact. He’d
spent the better part of the morning trying to convince himself his feelings
were simply because he’d had a lack of socialization for weeks now, but…
He’d never really gotten on with people in the first place. Didn’t
have any friends and hadn’t since the moment he’d lured Odin into the
forest and shot him in the arm.
Hell, he hadn’t really had a life since then either. And now…
He was here. Locked up.
And fucking alone.
He growled in frustration and dropped his fork with a clatter,
clenching his fists. The worst part was not knowing who he was angrier
with, Odin or himself. After all, he was the reason he was stuck here like
this. He’d been the one who’d blabbed and revealed that he was a Whisper
in a moment of vulnerability and weakness.
From the sounds of it, he was going to pay for that slip for the rest
of eternity too.
An image of Odin when they’d been younger, laughing by the pool,
the sun beaming down on his skin as he sprawled out on one of his family’s
lawn chairs entered Hunter’s mind.
He’d been gorgeous back then, an untouchable god, just out of
reach, even when he was standing right next to Hunter. Even when they
studied for classes and their knees bumped beneath the table…They’d been
impossible, and Hunter, a mere foot soldier forced into the Brumal to keep
his family from turning destitute, had been painstakingly aware of this fact.
It hadn’t stopped him from yearning, for fantasizing about what
kissing Odin Snow might feel like. What being spun around and taken by
him roughly against the wall of the pool house might feel like.
 He’d spent hours, days, weeks, and months dreaming about being
touched by Odin.
And then he’d tossed those dreams aside the second Isa Frost had
threatened the life of his sister. Because in the end, reality was always going
to win out against a fantasy. Reality was tangible, after all. The love he felt
for and got from his sister was real. His love for Odin? One-sided, and
impossible.
So he’d made a choice, and in the end that choice had cost him
everything, including Meg.
He pushed the plate away and then rested his cheek down on the
cool glass surface of the table, staring sightlessly in the direction of the
fireplace. The flames were dancing, always burning, always heating the
room and chasing away the cold.
Hunter hated the cold, always had, but more so now that he’d
experienced what it was like to be at the receiving end of Isa Frost’s frigid
power.
A few weeks ago he’d almost died by the same hands that had
snuffed out his sister. Just like that, he would have been gone, and Meg…
She would have been truly forgotten, with no one left alive to remember her
or the horrible injustice that was brought upon her.
His sister had been sunshine incarnate. Always thoughtful and
caring, kind to the point of constantly putting herself in danger. She’d
shown up at the Faraway Mansion even, to try and convince Hunter to quit
and come home. Despite the fact she’d had to sneak in and it was the literal
home of monsters powerful enough to snap her spine with as much effort as
it’d take for them to snap their fingers.
Even knowing all of that, she’d come. For him.
And he’d sent her home on her own.
He couldn’t help but wonder how their lives may have been
different if only he’d made a different choice and left with her that day. It
wasn’t easy to get out of the Brumal, but if he’d asked Odin for help, there
was a chance he would have given it…
Or he would have tightened the reigns, just like he was doing now.
Back then, it’d come down to either his sister or Odin, and he’d
chosen the first. Now, it was between Hunter himself and the Snow
Dominus. Could he choose the latter and set his pride aside, or would that
be pathetic? Would it be like giving up? Which option would let Hunter
sleep peacefully at night? Would untangle the twisted knot that had been
cinching tighter and tighter in his gut?
Odin claimed he could wait for as long as it took. But Hunter didn’t
possess that kind of patience. Accepting him as his Shout would give him
freedom from this room, but it would inadvertently, and irrevocably, trap
him at Odin’s side. Forever.
Because no matter the reasoning behind his obsession, whether Odin
wanted him for power or wanted him for his body or even if he truly cared,
in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really make a difference. The why of
it didn’t change the outcome.
Odin wanted Hunter, wanted to own him and claim him and keep
him. He’d made that abundantly clear.
There was no escape.
He chuckled humorlessly as it hit him. It wasn’t even about if he’d
lose himself. It was only a matter of when.
Either Hunter gave in now or he gave in later.
He barely registered the beep of the door unlocking or the soft
padding of footsteps toward him. They stopped at the table, out of sight,
and he didn’t bother lifting his head to see who was there.
It was Odin.
It was always Odin.
Hunter continued to gaze into the fire. “I’m tired.”
There was silence for a moment and then, “Come to bed.”
It wasn’t spoken suggestively, more matter-of-fact. If Hunter was
tired, he should get some sleep. It was logical. Clear-cut.
He sat up slowly, finally turning to take in the other man.
Odin looked sexy as sin as per usual. When they’d been younger,
growing up under his father’s ever-watchful eye, he’d been forced to wear
pressed suits with his hair styled and his shoes always at a shine. He still
wore a suit now and again, but for the most part, Odin preferred a darker
appeal.
He was in leather pants now and a red fishnet t-shirt with nothing
underneath. The material did wonders in showing off every dip and divot of
his toned body, and of the harsh black lines of ink that trailed down his side
and across his collarbone. Shout ink. Ink mixed with the blood and the ash
of his relatives.
 Shouts could gain power in one of two ways. Either they were freely
gifted it from a family member, through blood or ash after the person was
deceased, or they found themselves a Whisper. Unfortunately for them,
blood from another Shout had repercussions. It drained the power straight
from the giver, for one, making them weaker—so not typically something a
person was willing to do, even for family—and only worked once or twice.
Ash was the best and only guaranteed way.
When a Shout was going to die, they would verbally gift their ashes
to whomever they wanted to take on their power. After death, their body
would be burned and the ash would be mixed with ink.
Rumor had it Odin was inked with his father’s ashes, a powerful
man who had instilled fear in all of Sanctum.
In the end, that fear hadn’t saved him from betrayal either. His wife,
Odin’s step-mother and Isa’s birth mother, had made it seem like an
accident, but everyone knew the truth.
His natural hair color was blond, but he was constantly changing it,
and currently his hair was the same shade as melted caramel.
A similar color to Hunter’s eyes.
“I’m tired,” Hunter repeated, allowing the truth of that statement to
be heard in the exhausted way he spoke it.
Odin tipped his head. He was calculating and attentive. Very few
things ever escaped his notice. “If you want out of this room, Little
Whisper,” he said softly, almost cajolingly, “all you have to do is ask.”
Hunter snorted and closed his eyes. Because he knew what it was
he’d need to ask, and it wasn’t for Odin to graciously allow him out.
The power was with the Whisper in more ways than one. It was
their blood that granted a boost to Shouts, ten times more potent when
freely given. Their word that sealed a mating bond, again something that
could be forced under threat, but much more powerful when given because
the Whisper wanted to. If they were made to do it unwillingly, it would
dilute their blood to the point the type of boost a Shout would receive from
drinking would be minuscule at best.
If Odin’s goal was to use Hunter against Isa, he’d need him willing.
“I want something more than that,” Hunter said.
All right. If there was no escape, and this was truly to be his fate,
then he may as well stop fighting against it and instead make it work in his
favor. There were worse things than being tied to a man like Odin Snow, a
gorgeous man who had the power and station of a god. Who was both
feared and revered by all. Not to mention rich.
When he’d been on the run these past ten years, Hunter had become
painfully acquainted with the feel of an empty stomach. It was a miracle
he’d managed to maintain any muscle, though he was all lean now, not the
same bulk that he’d been when they’d been teens and he’d been a guard in
the manor.
He’d been trained to put his life on the line for the Snow family.
Trained to believe that they came first. In a sense, Odin had always owned
him. He’d simply been in denial.
So, okay. There were worse things than being with Odin. Than
being his.
But it wasn’t enough to make Hunter set aside his pride and give up
his freedom. No, he wanted something else.
“If I’m going to give myself to you,” he continued, “I’m going to
need something in return.”
“What is it?” Odin was giving him his full attention now, clearly
trying to contain his anticipation, obviously for fear that showing it would
scare Hunter into cutting this conversation short.
He wasn’t wrong. Hunter was already regretting it, and yet…There
was no other way. And he’d been telling the truth. He was tired. Tired of
fighting the Snow Dominus, sure, but more so tired of fighting himself.
He wanted Odin Snow.
He always had.
Always would.
Even if that pissed him off.
“This won’t just be a business deal,” he shoved his pride down to
get the words out, knowing it was too important to make this clear
beforehand, “it’ll be a real mating. If that’s not something you’re on board
with—”
“I’ve only fucked you since that night,” Odin cut him off. “I’ve only
wanted to fuck you. That won’t change.”
“If it does—”
“It won’t.” A thought seemed to strike him and his eyes narrowed.
“Whether that’s the case for you or not, whether you go through with this
right now or not, make no mistake, Huntsman, mine will be the only cock
you take for the rest of your days. If you even so much as dream about
welcoming another man into your body, I’ll cut his dick off and make you
take me in a pool of his blood.”
“That goes without saying.” Hunter tried not to let on how dark that
threat had been. Or how it’d made him a little bit hard. What the hell was
wrong with him?
“Does it?” Odin stared at him challengingly and Hunter nodded.
“I won’t let anyone else touch me willingly,” he said, “but if you
ever let anyone touch me—”
“That’s never going to happen,” he practically spat, as if the very
idea of someone else laying their hands on Hunter in any capacity made
him instantly murderous.
His dick twitched and Hunter felt another rush of mortification at
himself. Was it because he’d been stuck here for months? Was this
conditioning? Had Odin been slowly chipping away at his resistance all this
while and making Hunter pliable?
Of course, he almost laughed. And there was little doubt the Snow
Dominus was completely aware that that’s what he’d been doing too.
Since the very second Hunter had woken up in Club Cherry, Odin
Snow had been unraveling him.
“I’ll let you roam the club,” Odin told him then, “like I intended to
before.”
The day he’d been drugged and almost rapped, Hunter had been
given a bracelet that would give him access to all of the locations in the
club. Only a few places were off-limits, including every single one of the
exits.
Of course, he’d barely gotten the chance to test it out, since he’d
been brought to Odin’s room and kept there that same night. The next
morning when he’d woken, it’d already been removed from his wrist.
“But,” Odin took a single step closer and Hunter bristled, “if you try
to run, Little Whisper, I will find you, lock you in this room, chain you to
the bed, and never release you again. Be my mate, or be my sex slave.
Those are your options. Either way, you are going to be mine, and mine
alone.”
“What happened to trying not to scare me off?” Hunter asked. “You
were doing so well at it a moment ago.”
“You’re being so honest with me,” Odin explained, “I figured it was
only fair I return that honesty with my own.”
 Odin was the devil incarnate. He didn’t need to remind Hunter of
that fact.
“I know what I’ll be agreeing to,” he said, tipping his chin up. “But
I’m also not finished. There’s one other thing that I want. And it’s non-
negotiable.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Odin drawled. “Tell me.”
“Isa Frost,” Hunter continued the second he say fury sweep over
Odin’s features, not wanting him to misunderstand, “I want to help destroy
him. You aren’t the only one he took everything from.”
Odin considered it. “You want revenge.”
“If using you is the way to achieve that,” Hunter didn’t so much as
blink, “so be it. You want me to surrender myself to you? Keep your
promise, the one you made before. You said you’d give me whatever I
wanted.” He held his gaze. “I want Isa Frost to burn.”
For a tense moment, all Odin did was stare back at him, and it lasted
for so long that Hunter was actually getting nervous that he was going to be
rejected. He was a Whisper, after all, and though he had never seen the
dynamics between a Whisper and their Shout in person, he was aware of the
stories. For the most part, Whisper’s were protected at all costs, even
sheltered more often than not. Considered too precious to risk or some other
such bullshit.
Hunter would stay locked up in Club Cherry if he had to because
honestly, it was safer for him here and he didn’t have a death wish. But that
didn’t mean he’d willingly stand on the sidelines forever. So long as he was
allowed into the fights that truly mattered to him, he could learn to develop
some patience. He’d have to.
“Done,” Odin said finally, that single word cutting through the air
like the bullet from a blaster.
Hunter couldn’t help but lift his brow in surprise. “You do know
what I’m actually saying, right?”
“You were a good fighter in the past,” Odin gave him a once over,
“though you’ll need to train again and get your body back into shape. And
aside from that one time, you were also an impeccable marksman. I won’t
ever allow you to put yourself in direct danger, but you’re right. We both
lost our families to Isa. Let’s destroy him. Together.”
The way Odin was looking at him had Hunter hesitating. There was
so much possessiveness swirling in the other man’s eyes, and a glint of
smugness impossible not to note. He was already celebrating in his head,
already congratulating himself on his conquest.
Of Hunter.
“None of that now,” Odin said, voice dripping low. “Too late for
second thoughts.”
Hunter swallowed.
“Ask me,” he commanded. “All you have to do is ask.”
To officially sign his life and his freedom and his body away, that
was.
But Odin was right. It was too late.
Hunter inhaled slowly to buy himself some more time, but there was
only so much oxygen he could squeeze into his lungs. Since the moment his
father had brought him to the Faraway Mansion and presented him to the
Snow family, his choices hadn’t really been his choices at all.
It was far past time for Hunter to accept that fact and move forward.
“Will you mate me,” he hardly recognized the sound of his own
voice with how low, husky, and filled with anticipation it was, “Odin
Snow?”
The look that came over his face was everything Hunter suspected
the devil would possess. Twisted elation, self-satisfaction and arrogance,
dark desire, an upward curve to his lips that said everything that his words
didn’t.
Hunter had just sold himself to a monster.
And the monster was feeling pretty damn pompous about that fact.
“Yes.” Odin held out his hand. “Come to bed, Little Whisper.”
Hunter felt a twinge of fear in his gut, and it must have shown
because Odin clucked his tongue and advanced another step.
“I told you,” Odin shook his head, “all you had to do was ask, and
so you have. I’ll do the rest, Huntsman.” He reached out and trailed the
backs of his knuckles down the length of Hunter’s jaw.
“Pick one,” Hunter said a bit more breathlessly than he would have
liked, “a nickname.”
“Why?” he cocked his head. “Is it making it harder for you to focus?
Me switching back and forth?”
“Yes.”
Odin grinned, his satisfaction furthered. “Good.”
 Hunter started to scowl, but Odin’s fingers capturing his chin
stopped the expression from fully forming.
“No,” he said, “keep looking at me just like this.”
“Like what?” Hunter had no clue how he’d been looking at him.
“Like I’m your Shout,” Odin bragged, “and you finally know it.”
Before Hunter could respond to that, the other man’s lips were
crashing down to his. His mouth was forced open by both the press of
Odin’s tongue and the pinching of his fingers at his chin, and then he was
being filled up, practically eaten alive by the brutality of the kiss.
It was intense and fiercely dominating, with Odin controlling every
aspect of it. He tugged Hunter flush against him, one arm tight at his waist,
the other tipping his head to change the angle as he swept his tongue across
the roof of his mouth.
Odin tasted slightly sweet, with a hint of alcohol, and the woodsy
smell of burning logs and candy apple tickled Hunter’s nose. A moan
slipped past his defenses, immediately swallowed by the Snow Dominus.
“Come to bed,” Odin pulled back just enough to breathe the words
across Hunter’s cheeks. “Come to bed and offer yourself to me. Let me
show you I’m the best choice you could ever make. Let me mate you and
prove you’re mine. You’ve always been mine, Huntsman. Even when we
were both in denial. That’s always been a fact.”
Hadn’t Hunter just been thinking the same thing? Even if this had
nothing to do with love, and they both had their reasons for wanting this
mating, that part was at least true.
Since that very first meeting of eyes, Hunter had already been his.
But…
He found himself lifting his arm, gripping the back of Odin’s neck,
even going so far as to dig his nails into the flesh there until he was certain
he had the other man’s full, undivided attention.
Odin’s gaze darkened some, but he didn’t even try to pull away.
Waiting.
“I’ve always been yours,” he said pointedly, noting the way that
stroked the Snow Dominus’s ego. “I’ll come to bed. But I’m not the one
here with something to prove. I’ll offer myself to you, spread my legs,
invite you in, let you show me that you’re my best choice. I’ll let you mate
me. But when I do, you’re the one who’s going to be proving something.”
 Hunter dropped his hand from his neck. “Come to bed, Shout,” he
held it out between them, “and prove that you’re mine.”
 CHAPTER 4:

Odin had seen what true love was like for the first time when he’d
been sixteen, and it’d been an accident.
Meg Thorn had snuck into the Faraway Mansion and stormed
through the grounds searching for her brother. She’d found him working his
shift, guarding, and had begged him to quit and run away with her. Their
father had vanished without a word—dead, though they hadn’t known it at
the time—and she feared she’d lose her brother the same way.
Hunter had clutched her close, cradled the back of her head, and
spoken softly to her that it was going to be all right. The look in his eye
then when he’d stared at his sister had been so filled with love and attention
that Odin had felt something shatter within himself seeing it.
No one had ever looked at him like that before.
People, even those related to him, tended to gaze at him with fear or
respect, but never adoration. Never love. Real, true, unencumbered and no
strings attached love.
He’d wanted it, this thing he hadn’t even been aware he’d been
missing. He’d wanted it with a ferocity that had lit him up inside.
And he’d wanted it from Hunter.
Now that he was an adult, standing with the Huntsman in their
bedroom, so close to binding the other man to him forever, he searched his
expression for any signs of that look he’d seen all those years ago.
But this one, the one Hunter was giving him, was different, and not
just because Odin wasn’t his sibling the way Meg had been. Obviously, the
love he wanted from him wasn’t of the sibling variety. The problem was,
Odin couldn’t see any type of love in Hunter’s eyes at all.
There was appreciation, sure, and lust. The Huntsman wanted him in
his bed, wanted him inside his body, even wanted him in other ways, that
much was clear. Yet, it was also obvious that the only reason Hunter was
agreeing to this mating was because he was being forced into it. He had no
other options readily available to him.
 Odin knew as much because he was the reason for that. He’d gone
out of his way to ensure he’d be the only remaining choice at the end, and
while he hadn’t expected Hunter to moon over him and instantly fall head
over heels, he still felt a rush of anger twist in the center of his chest at the
knowledge that the other man didn’t actually want a lifetime with him.
Hunter merely wanted to avoid the cold that awaited him outside.
He wanted to avoid running into Isa again.
With a growl, he swept Hunter off his feet, carrying him over to the
bed and roughly depositing him down onto the mattress. He made quick
work of his clothing, tearing them from his body while the Huntsman stared
up at him wide-eyed.
“Snow?” Hunter saw the change in him, but couldn’t comprehend
where it’d come from, and he wasn’t about to pause to explain.
Why should he anyway?
Things between them had never gone smoothly. Why should their
mating be any different?
Odin was tired of feeling dicked around by the other man. Tired of
all of these insecurities sneaking up on him when he least expected them to.
When he let his guard down. Originally, he’d brought Hunter here to make
his life a living hell. To use him and then discard him. To show him what it
felt like to be betrayed and left with nothing.
Then he’d discovered what Hunter was, and it’d been a no-brainer
for him to want to keep him. Whispers were rare, even more so than Shouts,
and there was no way in hell that Odin would let one slip through his
fingers simply because it was a man from his past he harbored ill will
towards.
Only…That wasn’t it either, was it? He’d managed to convince
himself these past weeks that it was, had used the excuse of wanting a
Whisper as the reason for his change of mind and feelings toward Hunter.
But it was a lie.
The fact that Hunter was a Whisper was the thing Odin needed to
give into his true desires without feeling pissed off about it.
Without feeling like a fool.
Because Hunter Thorn was right.
Since the moment Odin had accidentally spied him and his sister in
the gardens that day, this outcome had been set in motion.
 “You wanted me to prove I’m yours?” Odin finished with his clothes
and reached for Hunter, grabbing onto one of his ankles to pull him closer
before reaching for the button on his pants. “This is what you get,
Huntsman. If you want me, you need to accept all of me.”
Hunter didn’t push him away, allowing him to pull his pants off and
tug his shirt up over his head, but he frowned at him. “You’re angry.”
“Livid,” he confirmed. Once they were both naked, he planted a
knee on the mattress and hauled himself up, only to have Hunter scramble
back. With a warning growl, he stalked forward on his hands and knees,
until he’d cornered the other man against the headboard.
“Wait,” Hunter held him back, “explain it to me. Are you really that
mad that I want this to be a mutual thing between us? That I want us to
belong to each other instead of just—”
Odin silenced him with a brutal kiss, yanking him down and settling
him beneath him while he had him distracted. By the time he pulled away,
Hunter’s eyes had glazed over, his lips puffy and bright red, his cheeks
flushed, and his legs splayed out to cradle Odin’s body.
“You’ll give me everything,” Odin said, only partially aware that it
sounded like a threat as he ground his hips, rubbing their hard lengths
against one another.
Hunter tossed his head back and moaned at the contact.
“Everything,” he repeated. “Willingly or not. I won’t settle for part
of you, Little Whisper. I want it all. Every,” he repeated the motion,
“single,” again, “part. Do you understand?”
Hunter shook his head, but before Odin could see red, he added, “I
don’t know what’s gotten into you all of a sudden. But,” he grabbed onto
the back of Odin’s neck and pulled him in for a brief meeting of their lips,
“I’m not saying no. If you want me, take me.” He met his gaze. “You’re
good at that.”
Maybe it was instinct imbedded in their DNA or some such
nonsense causing Hunter to be so complacent beneath him, but Odin wasn’t
about to argue. He didn’t exactly know how a Whisper was meant to act
with their Shout, or if anything like nature and biology could control those
actions.
It didn’t really matter in any case.
It would change anything.
 Odin covered his mouth with his, tongue spearing forward as he
simultaneously continued to grind against him, working them both into a
frenzy with the onslaught of sensations. He nipped at his bottom lip, lightly
at first, then more roughly, coming close to drawing blood but catching
himself.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Hunter before that there was no
need for him to bleed him. Did a part of him want to? Of course. That rush
he’d gotten the first time mirrored the effects of an intense drug, and he
wasn’t above craving another hit. But he was nothing if not patient, and
while he might not know everything there was to know about the relations
between a Whisper and Shout, he was aware of how important the bleeding
was.
How special.
Intimate.
He’d locked Hunter up intent on forcing his hand, but that didn’t
mean he wasn’t still hopeful. He hadn’t forgotten that need he’d felt that
day at Faraway Mansion, watching Hunter and Meg. That yearning for
love.
Odin broke the kiss, tipping Hunter’s head to the side so that he was
presented with his throat. He trailed his mouth down the corded muscle
there, sucking and biting, relishing the husky moans that elicited in the
Huntsman.
Acceptance clicked into place like a missing puzzle piece, his denial
tossed away like the useless trash it was. He’d never truly gotten past the
betrayal from that time in the woods, but it wasn’t revenge against the
Huntsman he’d been after. He’d been furious, yes, had wanted to punish
him, but despite his thoughts to the contrary, Odin was never going to have
been able to allow Isa to harm or have him.
He’d been a fool for ignoring the truth all this time, too weak to
acknowledge it. But no longer.
He wanted Hunter Thorn to love him.
And he was going to make him if he had to.
First, he just needed to bind him to him and then—
His multi-slate started ringing on the ground, the sounds muffled
through the material of his pants where he’d left it when he’d stripped.
Ignoring it, he smoothed his palm down Hunter’s side, noting with
satisfaction that he could no longer feel the harsh outline of his ribs. He’d
ensured the Huntsman hadn’t skipped any meals since coming here.
“What if it’s important?” Hunter asked through sharp intakes of
breath as Odin licked his right nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
“This is important,” Odin replied distractedly as he moved to give
the other pointed bud the same attention. He growled low in approval when
that had Hunter bowing up toward him.
“But—”
Someone pounded on the door, cutting off whatever Hunter had
been about to say.
Cursing, Odin pulled back, waiting for a moment to see if ignoring
whoever was out there would get the point across. When it didn’t and the
pounding only increased, he cursed and shoved off of Hunter and the bed,
storming over to the door.
He didn’t bother covering up as he slammed a palm against the door
panel, ready to kill whoever dared interrupt the mating he’d worked two
weeks to achieve.
The second the door opened Corbi, one of his closest confidants and
head of his private security detail, stepped back and kept her head down. “I
apologize, Dominus, but there’s been an emergency.”
“Someone better be dead or—”
“It’s Jita, sir,” she boldly cut him off, which was the sign he needed
to break through the lust and focus on her. Her expression was pinched, her
shoulders slightly hunched in worry. “He’s currently in critical condition.
It’s unclear if he’ll make it through the night.”
“Take me to him.” Odin moved to step from the room and swore
again, recalling he was naked. Spinning on his heels he went to the
wardrobe, pulling the first items of clothing he saw in a hurry. On his way
past the bed a second time, he came to an abrupt halt, turning to Hunter.
“Go.” The Huntsman had sat up and covered himself with a pillow
since Corbi was still just outside the door. He didn’t appear to be upset that
Odin had to leave right as they were getting to the good stuff. The opposite.
He looked as though he understood.
“I’ll leave Loni outside the room,” Odin told him. “If you need
anything—”
“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Go.”
“This isn’t over, Huntsman.”
 “I fully intend to hold you to that,” Hunter replied without skipping
a beat.
Part of Odin wanted to linger, to try and read him and see if he was
okay with his leaving because he’d had second thoughts. If he went now,
would he return to a sulky Hunter again? The one that refused him? Would
he be blowing his chance to mate?
“Sir,” Corbi called him from the hall, snapping him out of it for the
second time.
Odin clenched his fists at his sides and gave Hunter one last lengthy
look. “Be good.”
Even when the door lock clicked and chimed at his back and he saw
Loni appear down the other end of the hall and move to take a position in
front of it, Odin still couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.
He hated leaving Hunter right now, but there was nothing that could
be done about it. He was the Snow Dominus and as such he had
responsibilities that simply could not be ignored. And Jita was loyal, always
had been. He deserved Odin’s concern at this moment.
“What happened?” he damned as he and Corbi made their way
down to the parking garage and slipped into his hovercar, with her in the
driver’s seat.
“He was attacked on his way home,” she said as she pulled them out
onto the street and sped through a red light, bringing them to the nearest
hospital. “Vetle is with the police now, combing through all the nearby
security footage they could find. He was too badly beaten when he was
found and wasn’t able to tell them anything.”
“Who found him?”
“A passerby,” she met his gaze briefly in the rearview mirror,
knowing already what he was about to ask next. “I’ve run a background
check on them already and it came back clean. They live in the apartment
building next door to his.”
Jita had worked as Odin’s counselor for almost ten years, almost the
entire time that he’d been in charge of the Snow Family Brumal. He was in
charge of all of the paperwork regarding the new properties Odin had been
purchasing as of late, the ones located in Frost territory. His face was also
well known amongst the Brumal members of every branch. Even lowlife
punks wouldn’t have been stupid enough to attack him.
 No, this was a planned affront, and as far as Odin was concerned, a
declaration of war.
They arrived at the hospital and the two of them were greeted in the
lobby by a medical staff of five, as well as two members of the Brumal who
Odin had left in charge of Jita’s protective detail.
“I’ll deal with you later,” he promised them, stopping before the
man he assumed was the head doctor. “Tell me everything.”
“He survived the surgery,” the man informed him. He was at least
thirty years Odin’s senior, yet he clasped his hands before himself in a sign
of respect. “But I can’t guarantee how things will go from here. If he can
make it till morning, there’s a good chance he’ll be all right. We’ve done
everything we can for him as of now, and we’ll continue to do so.”
Odin motioned him forward, silently ordering him to bring him to
Jita’s room. “His injuries?”
“A punctured lung and ruptured ople,” the doctor said. That was part
of the body that helped break down toxins and was found on the right side.
“Did they not use weapons?” Odin asked.
“It seems that they managed to get the jump on him,” Corbi told him
from a few steps behind.
“He has a fractured skull as well,” the doctor continued. “Signs that
his head was bashed against something, most likely the ground. Three
broken fingers and a broken wrist. There’s only one injury caused by an
actual weapon, a single knife wound to the left thigh.”
Odin stopped but recovered quickly. They made it to the room on
the fifteenth floor and when he entered, it was to find Jita hooked up to
various machines.
“He’s in a coma now,” the doctor said, “but it’s medically induced.
The head injury was severe and his brain had swollen. We won’t know the
full extent of the damage there until he wakes up.”
If he woke up.
“Only allow trusted staff in here from here on out,” Odin demanded.
“If anything happens to him or goes wrong, I’ll hold you responsible.”
“Of course,” he bowed his head.
“My men will be stationed throughout the hospital,” he added. “Go
about your business as usual. They won’t get in your way.” This hospital
was within Odin’s territory, but so was Jita’s apartment complex. He
wouldn’t take any risks.
 After a few more words, the doctor left, leaving Odin, Corbi, and
the two soldiers alone with the unconscious Jita.
He’d been given a private room with a waiting area that had a couch
with a coffee table and even a full-sized table in the other corner. One door
led to an attached bathroom. The blinds to the windows were all closed, and
Odin moved them to peer out into the night, noting how close the other
buildings were, trying to see if there were any places for a snipper to hide.
Satisfied that there weren’t, he sighed and finally addressed the two
soldiers, Grom and Te.
“Where were you?”
“He’d sent me home for the night,” Te answered.
“Me as well,” Grom replied.
Odin had supplied the protection, but it was up to Jita whether or not
he wanted it. As a lawyer, especially one who worked for the Brumal, there
were things that he needed to keep private to properly do his job. There’d
also never been any real reason to believe he was under threat. No one had
dared attack him before.
“It was Isa,” Odin announced, turning to Corbi. “The thigh wound is
proof.”
His mind wandered to the scar he had on his own thigh, the one
given to him by his step-brother when they’d been teens sparring and things
had gone too far. It’d been Odin’s fault then, as he’d been the one who’d
pushed things, using his powers against Isa to the point that he’d almost lit
his hair on fire.
In retaliation and to get him to stop, Isa had pulled a four-inch
dagger from his boot and slammed it straight down into Odin’s flesh all the
way to the hilt.
It’d taken weeks to heal and that’d been with blood from Odin’s
aunt, who at the time had still been alive to give it. His father hadn’t
bothered, telling him it was Odin’s fault for losing the match.
Blood from a relative didn’t work nearly as well as ash from their
body. And was nowhere near as potent as blood from a Whisper. Odin
vaguely wondered how quickly the injury would have healed if he’d
ordered Hunter to his bedside back then and drank from him.
“Isa wouldn’t have gone himself directly,” Odin said, a second
before the door to the room slid open and Vetle walked in.
 “We’ve got a face,” he announced. “Only one. There was a group of
six of them, but they avoided the cameras as if they knew where they were
all located.”
Meaning this attack had been planned out ahead of time, in detail.
“A dashcam attached to a hovercar two streets over managed to
catch them leaving the scene, though only one of them looked long enough
in its direction for facial recognition to ID them, I sent the image to your
multi-slate.”
Odin reached for his pocket before it hit him that he’d left his device
on the floor in his bedroom. He’d need to send someone to retrieve it for
him. “Hunt that guy down,” he ordered Vetle, “and bring him to me.”
Vetle nodded his head and left as quickly as he’d come.
“I’ll order more men here,” Odin said to Corbi next. “You’re in
charge. Don’t leave the hospital. I don’t trust anyone else alone with him.”
He looked to Jita, furious to see how badly they’d gotten the other man.
“This was plotted out, which means they might have already considered
he’d be brought here. I doubt they’ll return, but just in case.”
“I won’t leave his side,” she promised, sounding every bit as angry
as he was. She and Jita weren’t particularly close, but they were friendly
with one another and had been in the same company for enough years a
closeness of some kind at least had developed. And she was the vengeful
sort.
Odin could count on her not to allow anything else to happen to his
Counselor while he was away. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Make them pay,” she told him.
 CHAPTER 5:

Screams echoed through the warehouse, but Odin hardly noticed,

watching as one of his group bosses, Yule, lit a cigarette. The ember glowed
in the dim, practically dark, lighting of the night.
They were standing just within the back entrance to the warehouse,
mud sticking to their boots as rain poured outside. Some of it splattered
against Yule’s back, but he didn’t seem to notice, taking a drag from his
cigarette and sighing in contentment as the nicotine entered his lungs.
Yule was a couple of years older than Odin, with a buzzed head and
two nose rings. He’d worked for the Snow family for many years, had been
lower rank when Odin had been a kid but had fled with a bunch of the rest
after he’d gone missing. It’d taken Odin a few years to track down all the
old members that he wanted to keep, the ones he felt he could mostly trust,
and Yule had been top of that list.
He also happened to have secrets, something Odin typically
wouldn’t allow, however, it was obvious they had nothing to do with the
Brumal or with him personally, so he made it a point not to stick his nose
where it didn’t belong.
Yule had earned that bit of respect if nothing else.
He’d also been the one who’d helped Vetle track down four of the
six men they were after. He and his boys had hunted for days, and it was
due to their efforts that they were close to catching all of them.
“Two more to go, boss,” Yule said then around the end of his
cigarette. He grinned at Odin when he met his gaze with a steely look.
“We’ll get them. No doubt.”
There was a darkness to Yule, an edge, that drove him to want to
hurt people. It made him handy during times like these when there was too
much to do and too much else on Odin’s mind to bother getting his own
hands dirty. Between Yule and Vetle, he wouldn’t have to.
Another scream ripped through the air at Odin’s back, followed by a
stream of pleas. Vetle was currently in the side room working on two of the
men who’d attacked Jita. The others had passed out not long ago, which
was when Odin had decided to step out for a bit of fresh air.
Which Yule was tainting with his cigarette. Pointedly, he stared at it
for a second, only glancing away once the other man took the hint and
dropped it to the ground half finished.
Grinding it under his boot, Yule slipped his hands into his pockets
and turned to look at the rain over his shoulder. “You think this’ll ever let
up? Damn weather.”
“Make use of it,” Odin suggested. “Wash the blood from your
fingers.”
Yule blinked down at his hands as if noticing the red stains for the
first time. He chuckled and turned to do just that, scrubbing them together
beneath the downpour, humming for a moment some tune Odin didn’t
recognize.
“They were all hiding in Noeul,” Yule told him then. “Like damn
vermin.”
Noeul was a rundown part of the capital where only the homeless
and the destitute tended to end up. Not exactly the type of place a person
backed by a powerful member of the Brumal would run to.
“They’re lowlifes,” Odin figured. “Easy hire picked off the streets.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Yule agreed. “Nothing special about any of
them. Guarantee Jita is going to be pissed when he wakes that scum like
that got the jump on him. Clearly they were given this job because they’re
dispensable.”
“Whoever orchestrated this intended for them to get caught.” That
must mean their getting captured on that dashcam video hadn’t been as
accidental as Odin had first believed.
“He wants you to know, boss,” Yule said. “Wants you on your toes.”
“Have you heard anything on the streets lately?”
“The same old same old. Rumors and gossip. Lots of talk about that
party that was thrown last month. Some people are saying Frost broke the
rules and attacked you and Mr. Thorn.” Yule cocked his head. “That true?”
“Why?” Odin lifted a brow. “Looking for an excuse to beat Frost
Brumal up?”
“Coming after your man is like coming after you,” he clicked his
tongue, “and if they show that level of disrespect, I’ll teach them a lesson.
No excuse, just hard facts, boss.”
 The sound of soft footsteps approaching from behind cut their
conversation short, and they both turned to greet Vetle.
He was wiping his hands off with a dirty gray rag, the blood trailing
up to his elbows. His black t-shirt was stained as well, though the dark
material did a good job of hiding with what.
“Last one caved,” Vetle said, stopping before them. “Got their
orders from a short bald man with a goatee.”
“Tuesday.” There was only one man that matched that lame-ass
cartoon character description, and he was on Isa’s payroll. “Another
dispensable part.”
“The real question here is,” Yule stated, “if he’s being this obvious,
what was the point of the chase at all?”
“He’s stalling,” Odin swore.
“But for what?” Vetle asked. “Do you think he’s planning something
bigger?”
“He came after the lawyer for a reason,” Yule said. “Anything big
going on with him, boss? Something that can’t move forward without Jita’s
expertise?”
Yeah, the plan to take over a chunk of Frost’s territory. He’d
considered that already, but there were only a couple more buildings on his
list, and only one of them was currently in the middle of negotiations. It’d
be a nuisance, but things could certainly still proceed without Jita there to
oversee it personally.
No, the more likely reason behind this attack was that it was a
message. Like everyone else in his company, Jita had been trained in self-
defense. He should have been able to defend himself, at least to some
extent. They’d waited for the right moment, the exact one where his guard
would be dropped just enough to allow them to overtake him without much
of a fight.
Isa had personally selected Jita for this. Why?
“Keep looking into it,” he ordered, at a loss and irritated because of
it.
“Interesting time for him to suddenly declare war,” Yule hummed
then.
“Technically,” Odin corrected, “I started it.”
“This Mr. Thorn that important to you?” Yule held up his hands
when that earned him a warning glare. “Good for you, boss. Good for you.
It’s about time you moved o—”
Odin shoved his way past Yule, bumping into his shoulder hard. He
barely noticed as the rain drenched him within seconds, heading to the car
parked across the dirt lot without bothering to attempt to shield himself
from it.
Vetle shook his head at Yule and darted after him, making it to the
car just as Odin slipped into the back seat. He leaned in, ignoring the rain as
well. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.”
“We need to know why he went after Jita specifically,” Odin said
and the other man nodded. “Most likely it’s nothing all that grand.” Aside
from Wren and Jita, all of the people closest to him lived at Club Cherry.
Since going after another Dominus was out of the question…Isa must have
settled. The second Vetle shut the door, he motioned to the driver to get
going.
Usually, Odin kept one of the twins with him, and if it wasn’t an
event, they would do the driving. But since he’d left Corbi at the hospital
and Loni back at Club Cherry, he was with Ko tonight.
Ko was a man of few words who knew how to drive. Before he’d
joined the Brumal, he’d been part of the underground hovercar racing
scene. After an accident that had killed his opponent, he’d quit and had
turned elsewhere for work. Having witnessed his skills behind the wheel,
Odin had offered him a job. He was still young, barely out of his teens, so
for the most part, he spent his days chauffeuring higher-ranking members
around the city.
He was silent as they navigated through the downpour, taking things
easy to avoid any mishaps. The rain was coming down in sheets making it
difficult to see much of anything out of the windows, and Ko kept that in
mind as he drove in the general direction of the club.
Anticipation started to bubble in Odin’s gut as he thought about
what awaited him there. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into Hunter, both
figuratively and literally. To finally lay claim to the Whisper who’d taken
up residence rent-free in his head. Once mated, there was no undoing it.
He’d successfully tie the Huntsman to him for the rest of eternity. There’d
be no escape, even if one day Hunter changed his mind.
Just the idea of that happening had him clenching his hands into
fists in his lap. Hunter would never have that choice, would never get to
decide whether or not he stayed or left Odin, but Odin vowed to do
everything in his power to ensure he never wanted to. Eventually, Hunter
would stay chained to his side willingly, just like how he was now willingly
going to mate with him.
It didn’t matter that Odin had worn him down. There were no
regrets. He’d do it again.
Whatever it took to make Hunter totally and irrevocably his.
He was so distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t see the danger in
time.
Before either he or Ko could do anything about it, a truck appeared
at their side, heading straight for them. It slammed into the side of the
hovercar, metal screeching, sparks flying.
Odin’s head rebounded off the leather seat and then again against
the Plexiglas window as the vehicle flipped and rolled. As soon as it lifted,
the jets at the bottom stopped working and when they landed it was upside
down on the side of the road.
The truck that had hit them sped off, leaving Odin blinking, dazed,
out the window after it. Some of the glass had cracked but held. He pushed
his seatbelt to undo it, dropping onto his shoulders with a hiss of pain.
Righting himself, he reached for the front to check on Ko.
The man had taken the brunt of the impact from the other, much
larger vehicle.
He hadn’t made it.
Cursing, Odin fished his multi-slate out of his pocket, dialing Vetle
as he returned to the back of the car and got to work trying to get the door
open. It was jammed and no matter how hard he kicked at it, wouldn’t
budge. Giving up, he turned to the other side and tried his luck there just as
Vetle picked up.
“Boss—”
Odin rattled off the street he was most likely on—he really should
have been paying closer attention to their surroundings—and hung up,
dropping the device to the ground so he could focus all his attention on
getting the fuck out of the death trap before his attacker could come back
for round two.
The side door finally gave and Odin burst out into the pouring rain,
shaking his head to clear his vision as water instantly assaulted him. The
storm had somehow gotten worse, wind now lashing against him as he
struggled to regain his baring. His head hurt from where he’d hit it, and
there was a shooting pain down the side of his neck leading straight into his
left shoulder. When he rubbed the back of his hand to his forehead, it came
back bloodied, though the rain made quick work of washing that away.
He stumbled forward a couple of steps and then turned back to look
at the destroyed hovercar, catching sight of Ko’s blurry, unmoving form
from within the front. Poor kid. Odin vaguely wondered if his family would
take comfort in knowing that at least he’d died doing something he loved.
Probably not.
The revving of an engine caught his attention and he swiveled on his
heels. It wasn’t the truck this time, but another car, which sped over loudly
in a clear attempt to intimidate him. Instead of reacting, Odin held his
ground, watching as it came to an abrupt halt just before it was about to
collide with the upside-down bumper of his flipped vehicle.
He waited as several men spilled out of the car, definitely more than
the single hunk of junk should have been able to seat, and couldn’t hold in
his annoyance at seeing them.
More dispensable idiots, it seemed.
Some chuckled as they approached, their smirks murky through the
sheets of rain. The weather must have helped shield his own features from
them as well, because the first man to approach him faulted the second he
was close enough to get a good look.
They hadn’t been told who their target was.
The man retreated a step, bumping into another behind him who
cursed and shoved him to the ground out of the way.
Odin stripped off his soaked jacket and tossed it to the side as well,
careful of his injured shoulder. When one of them dove for him he
sidestepped, slapping a palm to his back and twirling to use the man’s
momentum against him.
He slammed that guy straight into the side of his totaled hovercar,
moving on to the next before the body dropped. The next to get close, he lit
on fire. Planting a palm to the center of his chest he instantly summoned the
power within him, sparks flickering to life off the tips of his fingers to set
the man before him ablaze. Due to the rain, he didn’t burn for long, but the
sight was enough to signal to the other four guys who they were up against.
Odin moved in a frenzy after that, not really present as he fought his
way through the pathetic men sent to attack him. His fist slammed into
jaws, broke noses, and he stomped on more than one ankle, the sound of
snapping bone momentarily making its way through the sound of the rain
and the screams.
He used his power a couple more times, sending fire up a pant leg
here, searing away the hair at another’s scalp. But it was a race between him
and the rain and the water always won in the end, dousing all of his efforts
before he could take any lives.
Vetle arrived shortly after, while Odin was still in the midst of it,
pulling a blaster gun from his pocket as he made his way over. He shot
them as he went, pausing on the last since Odin wasn’t finished with him
yet.
He slammed his fist into his face over and over, listening to the
crunch, only stopping once the moans of pain came to an end. Then he
dropped the body and looked over at his underboss, blinking through the
water as reality slunk back to him.
“You’re bleeding, boss,” Vetle pointed out, motioning to his head a
second before he aimed and pulled the trigger on the final guy. They didn’t
need any survivors. It was obvious who had sent them. He looked at the
wreck. “Ko?”
“Dead.”
“I’ll get the cleanup crew.” Vetle pulled out his multi-slate and sent
the message. “What do you think about this? If it is Isa Frost, he’s escalated
things rather quickly.”
“It’s him,” Odin said. “And he wasn’t trying to kill me. This is a
message same as the one he sent Jita.”
“Which is?”
“That he’s pissed off. Impulse control was never his forte. He
always pretended otherwise, but I knew.” He’d known and he’d counted on
that fact.
Odin had done this. He’d paraded Hunter in front of Isa at the gala
on purpose in the hopes to get a rise out of his step-brother. Only…he
hadn’t anticipated things going this far this quickly. He’d thought Isa would
want to take Hunter back. Instead, he’d looked at the Huntsman with hatred.
Isa couldn’t be serious about that stuff he’d said, right? About Odin
coming back…No. There was no way. It was all a lie, a manipulation. To
what end, he didn’t yet know.
But he would find out.
 “I got your call while I was in the middle of the other guy,” Vetle
said. “I left it to Yule instead. It’s very obvious that all of this is a stalling
tactic for sure, as you’ve already guessed. It doesn’t sound like the men
who went for Jita know anything about the reason they were hired. I don’t
think we’ll get much more from them on the matter.”
“Use them to find the missing two and then kill them.” Odin patted
his temple and winced.
“You should get out of this rain,” Vetle suggested.
“Keys.” He held out his hand and waited until Vetle pulled them
from his pants pocket and placed them against his palm. “Stay here until the
crew arrives.”
“Are you sure you can drive?”
Odin didn’t bother responding to that, heading over to the hovercar
Vetle had arrived in and slipping into the driver’s seat. He shook his head
when a dizzy spell hit him, and as soon as it’d passed he pulled out onto the
street.
Even knowing there was no way for Isa to get to him, that Hunter
was safe at Club Cherry, Odin needed to get there as fast as possible. He
needed to see for himself. Because there was only one thing he could think
of that Isa would feel the need to stall for.
Maybe he’d been right in the beginning after all.
Maybe Isa was doing all this in an attempt to get to Hunter.
Odin ground his teeth and shoved his foot down on the gas pedal.
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, coming fully awake finally 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 up into a sitting positon 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.”
“The Dominus is busy at the moment and has requested he not be
disturbed for any reason other than—”
“This is an emergency, damn it!” he cut her off. “Get him on the
phone right now, Loni, or I swear you’ll have to explain to him later why
I’m injured.”
Her blank exterior fractured a bit, just enough for him to see the
crack. “Are you threatening to harm yourself right now, Mr. Thorn?”
“Call it whatever the fuck you want to,” he said, “so long as you call
Snow in the process.” When she still made no moves to follow his order, he
switched tactics. “Come on, Loni. You own me one for what happened back
at the Faraway Mansion. Do this and we’ll be even, yeah? You’ve got to see
the benefit of making me your friend instead of your enemy.”
She hesitated. He’d never asked her to do anything before, and he
doubted she’d been given explicit instructions not to contact Odin if Hunter
wanted to speak with him. Most likely, she would have already if she hadn’t
been told not to bother him, a fact that only made the anxious feeling in
Hunter’s gut more intense.
What the hell was Snow doing that he couldn’t be bothered?
“One minute, Mr. Thorn.” Loni’s image vanished from the screen
and for a second Hunter was left staring at nothing but black.
He waited, impatience surmounting until finally, a strong voice
spoke through the box.
“Huntsman,” Odin sounded slightly annoyed, but otherwise all right,
“what’s wrong?”
“How bad is it?” he demanded, not bothering with semantics, letting
out a warning growl when he was met with silence. “You left blood all over
the pillow, Snow, don’t bother denying it.”
“Are you concerned for me?” His voice dropped an octave, pleased.
“I’ll hang up.”
 “You’re the one who pushed for this call,” Odin reminded, then
sighed. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Did you see a doctor?”
“No need.”
“At least tell me you cleaned the wound. It was a lot of blood. Head
injuries are no joke.”
“Don’t worry,” Odin said. “I won’t die on you and leave you
trapped, Huntsman.” Someone called for him then in the background. “Wait
for me.”
The call ended with a click and Hunter clenched his jaw in
frustration. Bastard. What the hell else was he supposed to do? It wasn’t
like he could leave.
He was tempted to bang on the door again just to annoy Loni, but
throwing a tantrum like a child would get him nowhere. Ironic too,
considering he was older than Odin, yet he was the one considering such
juvenile acts to blow off steam.
Snow had left rather abruptly the other day, but Hunter had just
assumed it was more of the same old same old, territory fights or a minor
scuffle within the Brumal. From the looks of the blood stain and the sounds
of things, however, whatever was going on out there, it was a lot bigger
than he’d first believed.
Instead of being trapped in this room, he should be out there help—
Hunter came to an abrupt stop. What the hell had he been about to
think just now?
When they’d been younger and he’d first been assigned to Odin’s
private security detail, he’d been elated. In his mind, it was a chance to gaze
at the Brumal Prince without the risk of being caught. He’d have a good
enough excuse, after all, could easily claim he was just watching out for
signs of trouble.
And he had done that as well. He’d been the first to step forward if
anyone even remotely shady had entered the same room as Odin Snow, let
alone dared approach him. Hell, he’d paid such good attention to the details,
it’d gotten to the point he knew all of Snow’s ticks, knew exactly when he
wasn’t comfortable around someone even when he outwardly faked it.
Hunter had been disgustingly obsessed.
But that had been then, and this was now. The Odin he’d known in
the past had been dangerous, wicked, sure, but he’d also been kind and
gentle where Hunter was concerned. He’d taken time out of his schedule to
ask Hunter about his day, his likes…The Snow Dominus he knew now was
brash and aggressive. Harsh and possessive. As a teen, he’d had Hunter
eating scraps out of the palm of his hand, but as an adult…
He pressed a hand to his chest and inhaled slowly, trying to sort
through these feelings. It would be great if he could blame it on biology, on
being a Whisper simply reacting to a Shout, but he knew better. What they
were didn’t dictate their emotions.
The idea of Odin out there, in danger, alone…
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. What if the bastard got
himself killed? Or maimed? What if he came back to him missing a limb or
an eye or with his face slashed? Hunter had seen all of those things happen
to other members of the Brumal when he’d been working for them in the
past. Of course, Odin was different, stronger. Powerful. But he wasn’t
invincible.
He thought about the promise he’d made before signing off, letting
him know he wouldn’t leave him trapped. Was that what this was? Hunter
had a crush, maybe, sure. But was the true root of these feelings fear for
himself instead of the Dominus?
If something did happen to Odin, things would go from bad to worse
for him. If he was kicked out onto the streets, Isa would find him and no
doubt murder him. If he wasn’t kicked out but instead kept around by
whatever member of the Snow Family took Odin’s place…That couldn’t be
good either. Odin wanted his body, which was why he was keeping him in
relative comfort. No one else would.
Now he was thinking about the worth of his body. He swore at
himself. Clearly he’d been trapped in the Red Light District for too long.
Moving over to the end of the bed, Hunter plopped down on the
ground and leaned back against it, resting his arms over his upturned knees.
He needed to figure this out. Figure himself out.
And he needed to do it before the Snow Dominus returned.
 CHAPTER 7:

“A guest is waiting for you, sir,” Mister Sun greeted Odin at the
back entrance to the main level of the club, catching him just before he was
about to turn toward the private elevators that would take him to the third
floor.
Odin paused and glanced back at the man. It was rare for Sun to
speak out of turn, more the type to wait to be spoken to first, that was more
Madam Moon’s style than his, so the fact he was making a point to now…
Like his name, Sun was a bright-looking man with light blond,
almost golden hair, and eyes the color of a pale mid-morning clear sky. He
was typically found in whites and yellows or grays, avoiding the darker
styles most people who worked in these types of places preferred. He didn’t
bother with blending in or hiding in the shadows, always comfortable
making his presence known when he entered a room, even if he kept quietly
to himself.
For the most part, he only interacted with the rest of the staff, and
hardly ever left the club. He’d been given rooms on the second level, down
the hall from Vetle’s, and if he’d ever invited anyone over Odin hadn’t
heard word of it. He was a conundrum, one that had initially drawn Odin’s
interest in the beginning when he’d been looking to hire a second manager.
Looking at him now, however, the other man’s beauty paled in
comparison to Hunter’s.
“I don’t have time to meet with anyone,” Odin said, cocking his
head.
“Forgive me, but I don’t think this is the kind of guest that’s safe to
ignore,” Sun told him.
Though quiet, he took his job very seriously, more so even than
Madam Moon. If Odin gave the word, he never had a problem removing
anyone from the vicinity, which could only mean…
“It’s not Wren, is it.” Odin exhaled. If it’d been Wren, Sun wouldn’t
appear this out of sorts.
 “I’m afraid not, sir.”
He waved him off. “I’ll take care of it.”
Sun bowed and then turned on his heels and briskly walked away
without another word.
Odin ran a hand through his hair, stalling for a moment. He’d taken
care of the head injury but there was still an obvious bruise on his left
temple. Fortunately, all other wounds could easily be covered, but that
one…His pride had him sneering. He hated the fact that Isa was going to
see, though that was most likely the whole reason he’d come here in the
first place.
Putting it off would only mean delaying the time it took for him to
wrap this meeting and get to Hunter so Odin forced himself to make his
way to Greeting Room Six. No outsider other than Wren was allowed in his
office on the second floor, so he knew Isa wouldn’t have been brought
there.
Sure enough, he found First, Isa’s right hand, standing guard outside
the room. Next to him was Arl, one of Odin’s men. He ignored them both as
he shoved the door open and entered, allowing it to click shut at his back.
“When I invited you over before,” Odin drawled, “we both knew I
wasn’t being serious.”
Isa was seated on one of the couches, the same one as before when
he’d last made an impromptu visit. Only this time he was alone in the room
and he hadn’t bothered pouring himself a drink. He tilted his head,
inspecting Odin’s face before his mouth twisted into a dark grin. “I see
you’ve been…busy.”
“Cut the act.” Odin moved across the room to the wet bar and
poured himself two fingers of ove, a strong liquor he typically didn’t bother
with. “We both know you’re behind the attacks. You better hope Jita comes
out of it all right.”
“No concern for your face at all?” Isa hummed in mock
disappointment. “Can’t say I agree. I gave specific instructions not to harm
that particular part of your body. The driver will have to be dealt with.”
“Your driver is dead,” Odin turned back and rested against the bar.
He took a slow sip and then added, “You’re about forty-five minutes too
late.”
“Is that his blood on your shoes?” Isa eyed them, showing no anger
over his murdered subordinate whatsoever.
 “Why are you here?” He was tired and didn’t have time for the
games. The fact that Isa had come all this way meant he had a purpose.
“This is the second time you’ve overstepped in a decade. Surely there’s a
reason.”
“I told you the reason the last time,” Isa stated. “Just before you so
rudely walked out on me.”
“Something important came up.”
“More important than me?”
Odin snorted before he could help it, chuckling afterward. “Does
that really need to be answered?”
Isa’s expression grew steely for half a second before the flirtatious
look was back. “Where is Hunter? It seems like every time I come for a
visit he’s nowhere to be found. Or, is he afraid of me, perhaps?”
“He’s made of stronger stuff than that.” Not that Odin would ever
willingly let the two of them be in the same room together again, ever. Even
the reminder of what he’d done to the Huntsman at the gala had Odin’s
blood boiling.
“Should we invite him to join us?” Isa suggested. “Share him, for
old times’ sake?”
The drink in Odin’s hand burst into flames, but without breaking a
sweat, he set it down behind him, reigning in his power before the glass
shattered.
“You can’t be serious?” Isa glared. “You like him so much you’d
even lose control over a tiny comment like that one?”
“Careful what you say. Even if you have men hiding outside on the
streets—” which Odin was fairly certain he didn’t, because his people
would have noticed and sounded the alarm for sure, “—don’t forget where
you are. I out number you.”
“Actually, no matter where we go in Sanctum, it’s I who outnumber
you, brother.”
“Because you supposedly have the emperor in your pocket?” Odin
had done a little digging since learning of that and hated that it seemed to be
true, but he kept his expression blank and his shoulders loose. He couldn’t
show weakness. Had to appear as though none of this made a difference to
him or his plans. The only way to win this was to keep Isa guessing.
“More like in my bed,” Isa informed him, lounging back against the
leather couch. “There’s very little a thorough fucking can’t get you. You
better than most understand that fact, King of the Red Light District.”
He’d had suspicions, of course, but no proof. The men he’d sent to
trail the emperor had to be extra careful and had only managed to get close
enough to gather a limited amount of information. Odin had been trying to
figure out what Isa had on Emperor Altz, to see if there was a chance he
could make a better offer, but if it was his cock Isa was giving…
“I don’t fuck my way to the top,” Odin gave him a once over,
“brother.”
“Don’t make it sound like that,” Isa laughed. “He and I both get
something out of it. If you ever want a taste, let me know. I’m more than
happy to share.”
“Since when?”
He grinned. “You’re right. If I let that tiny man see you naked I’d
surely have to skin him alive later. But,” he twirled his finger in the air, “it
could be worth it. The next in line happens to be an eleven-year-old girl.
Easily manipulated. We could welcome her into the fold, take control over
the planet together. Don’t make that face,” he clucked his tongue, “I’m not
suggesting anything sexual. Even I draw a line at children.”
“How very noble of you.” Odin purposefully ignored the possessive
first part of that speech. “You’ve got a lot of don’ts coming out of your
mouth. Almost like you’ve forgotten that we aren’t anything to one another
anymore. Except for rivals, I guess.”
“You crossed that line first,” Isa pointed out, “when you started
impeding on my territory behind my back.”
“So you declared war by attacking my councilor?”
“That was hardly a declaration of war.”
“Oh?” Odin quirked a brow. “What would you call it then?”
It was odd how easy it was to fall back into a banter with his step-
brother, how quickly the other man managed to crawl under his skin. Not in
a good way, any good emotions between them were long dead and buried,
but Odin hated that he felt anything at all.
“Let’s just say my feelings were hurt the last time I was here,” Isa
said. “That was no way to treat a guest.”
“You aren’t a guest,” he replied. “You’re an unwanted visitor.” He
straightened from the bar. “And you’ve overstayed your welcome.”
“Don’t walk away from me, Odin.”
 “Another don’t.” He sighed. “If this was meant to be the final
meeting before an all-out war, I’ve got to say, it’s severely lacking.”
“What do you want?” Isa asked. “If it’s your share of the Brumal as
a whole, I believe I’ve already offered that to you. That deal is still on the
table.”
“I’m not interested in making any deals.”
“Do you really think you’re capable of stealing the crown from
me?” Isa licked his lips. “Many will die in the process, and I may decide to
drop the nice act altogether.”
“You finally admit it’s an act.” Odin slid his hands into his front
pockets.
“You aren’t listening, brother.”
“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 edge of the
bar, 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.
He’d expended a lot of energy downstairs and he felt the prickles of
it against his skin, coursing through him. If he didn’t replenish quickly, he’d
pass out from exhaustion before getting the chance, and there was no way
he was going to leave this another night. Not with Isa’s threat still echoing
in his ears.
Hunter would be safer if they were mated. Hunter would be his, well
and truly.
“Hey,” the Huntsman slapped him away and struggled to remove
himself, glaring when Odin blocked him in, “stop.”
 “Did you hope it would be romantic?” Odin asked, pulling back
enough to remove his shirt, immediately going for the button of his jeans
next. “Is that it? You want roses and soft touches and whispered promises
about loving you forever? You’ve never seemed the type, Huntsman.”
“I’m not,” he bit out, clearly angry. But that wasn’t all. He was
flushed, his cheeks already pinking that shade they got whenever he was
turned on, and there was a bulge growing in his pants, bumping up against
Odin’s knee.
“That’s right,” he murmured, though honestly those words were
meant mostly for himself, “you like it rough. Like it when I bend you in
half and force you to take it. Like to pretend that you don’t like being
stuffed with my cock as much as I like giving it to you.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Hunter sucked in a breath
when Odin wrapped a hand around his throat.
“Should we do it like that?” Odin squeezed, but lightly, only enough
to get his point across. He was in charge here. “Why should our mating be
any different than any of the other times, right?”
“I don’t know,” Hunter drawled, “we must be recalling our first time
differently. Pretty sure I’m the one who came onto you then.”
“You were drugged.”
“Are you drugged right now?”
“No.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?” Odin brought his face in closer, burrowing his nose
beneath the curve of his jaw and inhaling. “Like a Dominus? Like the
devil? Or,” he met his eyes once more, “like your Shout?”
“You don’t have to be a possessive asshole about it,” Hunter said.
“Oh, of course I do.” Odin hooked a finger into the other man’s
pants and popped the button free before slowly easing down the zipper.
“You think I don’t know what you were doing in here? Alone? For days?”
Hunter frowned, but he didn’t try to push him away when Odin
freed his swollen dick from his boxers.
“Thinking about me?” He clucked his tongue and shook his head
chidingly. “No. No, you were probably considering all the ways you could
get out of this, weren’t you? Trying to come up with some excuse to break
the promise you made me.” Odin flicked his thumb across Hunter’s slit,
gathering a drop of precum with the move. “You were all set to tell me you
were no longer interested in mating, weren’t you, Little Whisper?”
Hunter looked away, and that was all the answer Odin needed.
Even though he’d already used a lot, heat poured from his palm,
warming the other man’s throat as he tightened his grip again. He removed
his knee from the couch and, using his hand on Hunter’s neck, forced him
to lie down across the cushions. Odin had already draped himself over him
by the time the other man even thought to fight back.
“You hit your head, didn’t you?” Hunter accused, hissing when
Odin trapped his wrists and pinned them above him. He tried to close his
legs and shove him off, but Odin merely pressed down harder, using his
hips to keep his thighs spread.
Odin thrust forward, rubbing his hard length against Hunter, and
even though his pants were still on and only his dick was freed, it was
enough to get the Huntsman to freeze beneath him.
“I just had a talk with Isa,” Odin confided, not sure why he was
bothering. He certainly hadn’t been planning on telling the other man that.
Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “You what?”
“He came here uninvited and was waiting for me when I arrived.”
He was quiet a moment and then, “That explains it.”
“Explains?”
“Why you’re acting this way.”
This time it was Odin’s turn to pause. “What do you mean?”
“He said something, didn’t he,” Hunter guessed. “Something you
didn’t like. Now you’re mad about it and taking it out on me.”
“Is that what you think this is?” Odin twisted his hips, rubbing them
against each other. He wasn’t the only one hard as a rock right now, there
was no denying that. “You think I’m about to fuck you because of Isa?”
“Forcibly fuck me,” Hunter stated.
“Forcefully maybe.” Odin wasn’t buying it, but he’d allow Hunter to
keep up the act if that’s what he needed to go through with this. He was
stubborn, his Huntsman, always had been. “I’ve recalled a few more things
from our past,” he rolled again, slower this time, almost lazily, “would you
like to know about them?”
“No,” Hunter said through gritted teeth. He was trying so hard not to
make any sounds of pleasure, but he was already covered in a fine sheen of
sweat now and trembling in Odin’s hold.
 “It’s funny, how memory works, how it can trick you,” he told him
anyway, reaching down with his free hand to riffle through his pants which
he’d left in a pile on the ground. When he found what was looking for, he
brought it up, making sure it was high enough for Hunter to get a good
look.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Hunter’s eyes widened on the
knife when Odin pushed the button on the side that had the five-inch blade
springing free.
“All this time I’d convinced myself it was all in my head,” Odin
continued as he brought he tip of the knife between them, down to the end
of Hunter’s shirt. “Those longing glances you sent my way, the careful way
you spoke around me. A trick, either one you did on purpose intending to
eventually lure me into that forest, or one I made up all on my own due to
the strange feelings I had for you.”
Hunter watched silently as he began to cut through his shirt, staying
completely still even when Odin released his neck and sat up so he could
use both hands to sheer through the thin material.
“But it wasn’t all in my head, was it, Huntsman. I didn’t make it up,
any of it. Including the way you’d pout a little whenever Isa stood a little
too close to me in public. You’d try to hide it, would look away as fast as
you could, but I caught you. What was it? Jealous, Little Whisper? You
think I don’t know why you made that specific demand? You’d mate me
only if I swore not to fuck anyone else, remember? That was only a few
days ago, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten,” he chuckled humorlessly, “even
if you’ve been trying to.”
That pissed him off to no end too, imagining Hunter in here, pacing
the room, running his hands frustratingly through his hair like he was wont
to do, wracking his brain for a way to get out of it. For a way to escape
being his.
“Did you?” The fight was back in Hunter’s eyes suddenly, even as
he lay there and allowed Odin to pull his shirt apart to expose his chest.
“Did you sleep with him just now?”
He made a face. “I loathe him. Why would I ever?”
“A month ago, you would have said the same thing about me,”
Hunter pointed out, though he had to know himself how ridiculous he
sounded.
 “You don’t think I slept with Isa,” Odin surmised, “you’re just
looking for an excuse to justify getting angry.”
“This,” he motioned down at his pinned body with his chin, “is
more than enough reason, actually.”
“Fight me then.”
“You’re holding a knife.”
Odin dropped it to the floor next to the couch. “Fight me.”
Hunter glared at him for a long moment and then glanced away. “I
wouldn’t win.”
“Is that why you finally agreed?” he asked. “You realized resisting
was futile?”
“Don’t say it like you don’t know you wore me down on purpose,”
Hunter snapped.
“Of course I did,” Odin admitted easily. “Why wouldn’t I have? I’d
do anything to have you, Huntsman. This?” He mirrored his move with his
chin, indicating their positons. “This is nothing. I’m capable of much, much
worse.” He felt Hunter tense beneath him a second time and chuckled.
“There you go, Little Whisper, let it sink in.”
“You’re threatening me.”
“Yes,” he wouldn’t deny it. Why bother? He wasn’t a good person.
Sometimes, he wasn’t even sure he was a person at all. Proof of that fact
was how he’d literally just come from killing a man. The one who’d been
hired to run into him with his truck.
Odin wasn’t a good person. But neither was Isa. And the thought of
his monstrous step-brother getting his hands on Hunter before Odin had
mated him first…
Isa didn’t know what Hunter was, but his comment about taking
Hunter wouldn’t stop repeating itself in Odin’s mind, over and over again.
“We’re going to mate,” Odin said, voice husky and low, “tonight.
I’m going to have you bouncing on my cock and screaming my name, and
then we’re going to exchange blood and complete the bond. Agree, Little
Whisper.”
“And if I don’t?” Hunter glared at him defiantly.
“Then we’re going to do it anyway.” He’d been patient, but they
were out of time. The fact that Isa had walked right into the club the way he
had, meant he’d already gotten closer to the Huntsman than Odin was
comfortable with. Something within him was screaming to lay claim before
it was too late. Before his step-brother somehow discovered what he had
and made good on his threat to steal it away.
A Whisper, once mated, couldn’t be mated by anyone else.
That’s what Odin wanted, what it would take to calm the swirling,
chaotic mess his thoughts had become after that tussle with Isa. He wanted,
no, he needed to know that Hunter was his, without a shadow of a doubt,
and that no one would ever be able to take him from him.
“What happened to wanting all of me?” Hunter asked.
“I’ll have all of you,” he practically growled. “I’ll have all of you so
that nobody else can. Not so much as a single piece of you has a hope of
escaping me, so give,” he punctuated those last two words with another roll
of his hips, “in.”
Odin settled himself over Hunter, chest to chest, one hand going to
his wrists, still held above his head even though it’d been a while since
Odin had released them, the other tipping his chin up to meet his gaze.
“Yield,” he whispered, lowering his forehead until he could rest it
against the other man’s. His skin was hot to the touch. When he spoke next,
there was no hiding the almost pleading tone from either of them. “Yield,
Hunter.”
“Now who’s trying to hide?” Hunter said. “You want me to give in
so you can tell yourself you didn’t take me against my will. But if I don’t,
that’s exactly what you’ll do.”
Odin clenched his jaw shut tightly.
“See? You’re no better than I am. Memories? Sure, I’ll play. What I
remember is having to watch in the shadows as you and Isa snuck off to
fuck in the gardens. Or the bathroom. Or the laundry room. There was one
time even you guys did it in the dining room in your father’s seat. I
remember that trapped feeling I got the second Isa ordered me to shoot you,
the hopelessness I felt when I saw that photo of Meg, tied up and bleeding.”
He went to pull away, but this time it was Hunter keeping him still,
tightening his legs around his waist to keep him there and force him to
listen.
“People like me don’t get a choice, Snow. We never did and we
never will. Yield?” He snorted. “We’re at a stalemate, mighty Dominus,” he
sneered the title mockingly, “and if one of us has to take the hit, it sure as
hell isn’t going to be me. So,” lifting his head from the cushion, he brought
his lips right up to Odin’s, so they were a mere breath apart, “you want me?
Then take me. And feel shitty about it every step of the way.”
Hunter wanted to pretend he wasn’t into this, wasn’t into Odin, and
Odin wanted to pretend he wasn’t forcing his hand.
He was right. They were at a stalemate.
“Okay,” Odin decided, “I can do that for you, Little Whisper.
However,” he made sure to pause long enough for Hunter to see the wicked
smirk on his face before he flipped him over in one fast move, “who said
anything about having to take steps?”
He dragged Hunter’s body up until his chest was pressed against the
armrest, then yanked his pants and his underwear the rest of the way off.
The remaining scrap of his shirt was next, until he had the other man naked
before him and practically presenting himself in his current position.
When Hunter tried to rise, he planted a palm on the back of his neck
and shoved him back in place, settling more comfortably on his knees at his
back, using them to force Hunter’s legs further apart.
“We aren’t going anywhere,” he told him, “we’re going to stay right
here until the mating is complete, and then, the first step either of us takes,”
he licked his way up Hunter’s spine and then blew on the wet stripe he’d
left, “is going to be as a bound couple.”
Hunter shivered, but Odin saw his hole clench, noticed how his dick
hung heavier between his thighs, the rosy head practically smearing
precome all over the leather cushion beneath him.
“Feel this, Huntsman?” he reached around him and grabbed at his
dick, squeezing at the base with enough pressure to have the other man
writhing in his hold. “Your body knows who it belongs to. Let’s work on
getting your mind to catch up.”
He collected the wetness dripping from Hunter’s tip, smearing it
down his own length and then returning for more. It wasn’t until the third
time he did so that Hunter seemed to realize what was about to happen.
“Snow.” Hunter swallowed, loud enough it was audible, and looked
at him over his shoulder as best he could with his neck still being held in
place.
“This is going to hurt,” Odin warned, “but only for a moment. I
promise.”
This wasn’t how he’d pictured their mating either, but they’d wasted
too much time talking and that exhaustion from earlier was creeping up on
him again. He’d been an idiot for allowing Isa to rile him up so much. That
burst of power was costing him now.
If he was nicer, he’d call this whole thing off and try again in the
morning after he’d recharged from sleep.
But he wasn’t.
He notched his thick cockhead against Hunter’s entrance, taking in
the sheer size of himself in contrast to the smaller man. Ironic, how once
he’d been the smaller of the two. It wasn’t the first time the Huntsman was
taking his cock, however. He could handle it.
With a sharp flick of his hips, Odin seated himself all the way to the
hilt, the feel of Hunter’s tight body stretching and compressing around him
forcing a deep groan that rumbled up his chest.
Hunter’s sound was a little different, a sharp intake that clearly
indicated he was in pain, and a mild attempt to pull free, which Odin easily
quashed by tightening his grip on his nape.
“Open for your Shout,” he demanded, holding himself taught
despite how badly he wanted to move, giving Hunter time to adjust to his
girth. Even though it was risky, he poured his power into the other man
where they connected, using the heat to sooth his tense muscles until some
of the painful clenching eased enough that Odin could glide slowly out and
back in again with less resistance.
Hunter seemed to melt, his gasps turning to moans as Odin slid in
and out of him. Eventually, his eyes drifted shut, his lips parted, fingers
clawing at the arm of the couch.
“There you go, Huntsman,” Odin’s breathing was labored as well,
his words coming out breathy, “it’s hot when you resist, but I like seeing
you come undone even more.”
Hunter cried out when Odin thrust in a little harder, hitting that spot
within him purposefully.
“Just like that.” He wasn’t even really sure what he was saying
anymore, but nonsensical gibberish seemed to keep pouring out of his
mouth and in his sex-driven haze Odin didn’t even consider trying to stop it
from doing so. “Take me just like that. You’re being so good for me, baby.
Look at the way your greedy hole swallows me up.”
A mewling sound escaped from Hunter, and Odin smirked at his
back.
The Huntsman was a fan of dirty talk it seemed. Noted.
 “Where’s my name, Hunter?” he asked. “You’re riding my cock, but
I’m pretty sure I mentioned I want you screaming for me.” He drove into
him hard enough his body would have slid an inch off the couch if he
hadn’t been holding him in place. His thrusts quickened, and with every
outward stroke, he made sure he rubbed against his prostate.
“Odin.” Hunter gasped and pushed back into him, following his
retreating cock, silently begging for it back.
“What’s it feel like, baby?” Odin asked. “To have me inside of
you?”
“Deep,” he shocked him by answering without skipping a beat.
“Thick. You feel like you’re tearing me in half but it’s not enough. I want
you to go even further.” He reached back blindly and found Odin’s free
hand, dragging it around until his fingers were gripping his dick.
Odin made a tsking sound and tried to pull away, but Hunter held
firm. “Oh no, Little Whisper, you’re not getting off that easy. It’s too soon
to let you come.”
Almost in a state of frenzy, Hunter let go of his wrist and dropped
his hand to the floor. A second later, he lifted the knife, and before Odin
could freeze mid-thrust at the sight of it, he held it out to him.
“Bleed me,” Hunter ordered, and then in a more whiny tone, “Shout,
please. Bleed me. I want it. I want you inside of me, all of you. I want you
so deep in me that there’s no chance of ever getting away. I want you to
make me yours.”
He’d barely finished before Odin had snatched the knife and sliced a
surface-level cut across Hunter’s shoulder, only enough for a couple of
drops of blood to well to the surface and nothing more. He paused his
thrusts to bring the knife to his wrist, but Hunter didn’t like that and lifted
his legs to dig his heels into Odin’s ass, forcing his cock to slide all the way
in.
Odin brought his bleeding wrist around to Hunter’s mouth, pressing
it against his lips as he leaned down and latched onto the wound on his
shoulder. That first drag was like heaven exploding on his tongue, ten
million times better than any alcohol or drug on any planet in the entire
universe. Power swept through him, potent and heady, only heightened by
the sensation of Hunter drinking from him a second later.
He rutted into him, fucking hard enough it was going to be hard for
the Huntsman to sit comfortably in the morning. But Odin was too lost to it
all to consider that. He could have drained the other man dry, that was how
good his blood made him feel.
Fortunately, the orgasm snuck up on them both, their mouths
unlatching from flesh at the same time, their loud cries of pleasure as he
shoved in deep and unloaded inside of Hunter filling the room.
Stars exploded behind Odin’s eyes as he came, and came, and came,
the orgasm seemingly never-ending.
Even once it finally had, he didn’t pull out, kept his cock in place,
plugging Hunter up so that not a single drop of his come could drip out.
He’d collapsed against him at some point, their sweat covered skin sticking
together as he peeled himself off just enough to ensure he wasn’t crushing
the man to death.
A feeling of peace and contentment the likes of which he’d never
felt before cascaded over him, and it was like all that exhaustion, all that
anxiety and tension from the day, hell from the whole damn week, vanished
in a puff of smoke.
“Odin,” Hunter’s voice, tired and seemingly far away somehow only
managed to add to that pleasant feeling.
The voice of a Whisper. The one he’d just bedded and bled.
His Whisper.
“Returning to our earlier conversation about not taking any steps,”
Hunter continued when he didn’t receive a response, “I’m pretty sure I now
can’t. So, for round two, you mind carrying me over to the bed?”
Something a lot like elation went off in Odin’s chest and his cock
pulsed at the promise of more to come.
“Anything,” Odin pressed a light kiss to his shoulder, over the
wound that was already closed up, “you just have to say it first. Say it, and
I’ll give you anything and everything you want, Hunter Thorn. Say it.”
Please, he added silently. He was so close he could practically taste it. Too
close to be disappointed if—
Hunter didn’t need him to elaborate though. He knew exactly what
he was after.
“Can my Shout bring me to the bed for round two?” Hunter asked,
and maybe it was the earth-shattering orgasm he’d just had, but he didn’t
even sound like he was mocking Odin. He sounded…genuine.
Odin took his chin and tilted his head toward him, waiting for
Hunter to peel his eyes open and meet his gaze. “Because?”
 Hunter’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, instantly drawing Odin’s
attention to it. “Because I’m yours, and therefore your responsibility.”
“Mine,” he repeated.
“Yes,” Hunter nodded. “Yours.”
“The bed it is.” But first…Odin shifted forward and captured
Hunter’s mouth with his.
 CHAPTER 9:

For the bond to be at its strongest, it was important for the two of
them to constantly exchange blood for at least a week. Of course, that could
have easily been done between Odin’s usual comings and goings, but the
Dominus was having none of that, even when Hunter suggested it.
Instead, they spent three days straight in bed, only getting up to
retrieve food brought directly to the door. Hunter didn’t even see another
person until the end of that third day, always too spent and exhausted to
even attempt moving from the bed.
Sometimes Odin fucked him hard, others gently. There was never
any telling at the start what kind of mood he was in or how things were
about to go, but by the end of those three days, Hunter’s body ached and he
pushed the other man away when he tried to penetrate him for the millionth
time.
Odin hadn’t gotten angry, he’d merely switched gears. He’d pulled
Hunter from the bedding and brought him over to the center of the room
where there was more empty space, and had told him to show him what he
remembered from his training.
Training that he’d had over a decade ago.
Hunter had almost refused, but even after the mating, the idea of
getting to punch Odin in the face was too tempting. He’d been unable to
land a blow, unsurprisingly, but the motivation was there and it kept him
going.
That, paired with Odin’s promise that if he was successful, he’d get
blown in return.
So they trained, and fucked, and bled each other, and by the end of
day six Hunter managed to graze Odin’s jaw with his knuckles. He’d been
rewarded, as promised.
Day seven, the final day, was spent back in bed, having lazy sex and
lapping at small cuts, weirdly enjoying one another’s company. The world
outside the bedroom hadn’t stopped, but for a moment there it’d felt like it,
and Hunter found himself partially wishing that it wouldn’t end.
 But it had to, because the bubble they’d created where it was just the
two of them wasn’t real, and fantasies always burst apart.
He’d woken on the morning of day eight with the ompt bracelet
back on his wrist. There’d also been a tablet on the end table at the side of
the bed, and Odin had scrawled a note there for him letting him know that
he’d needed to leave to deal with Brumal business. When Hunter checked
it, he found that the device was fully operational in all regards except one.
He couldn’t send messages out.
Figured.
Before he’d been able to pinpoint whether the tight feeling in his
chest was annoyance that Snow had left without waking him or something
else, the door to the room had opened and Loni had stepped in.
She’d bowed and explained, with her eyes downcast, that she’d been
ordered to bring him to Odin’s private gym to further Hunter’s training.
There’d been a second where he’d wanted to refuse out of spite,
however, he’d quickly realized that wouldn’t be in his best interest. Being
mated meant he’d tied himself to Odin Snow forever. That was done. There
was no turning back.
Which also meant Hunter was still in danger and would most likely
be for the rest of his life. Not exactly different from his previous
circumstances, but at least now he was being given the opportunity to better
his fighting skills so he could defend himself. That was something Odin had
been wildly against before when he’d been worried about Hunter turning on
him.
A week in the man’s bed and suddenly he trusted him? Hunter had
snorted and gotten dressed before following Loni out.
This became routine for the next two weeks. He’d wake alone, Loni
would arrive sometime, they’d train, Hunter would be free to roam the club,
and Odin would make it back in time for dinner. Sometimes they had sex
afterward, sometimes they merely sat on the couch and talked. It was…
Unsettling, but also…comfortable.
“That bastard’s tamed me,” he grumbled to himself, a little over
three weeks since the night of their mating, as he wandered through the first
level of Club Cherry, Loni close at his back.
“What was that, Mr. Thorn?” she asked, and he shook his head, used
to her playing the role of his shadow by now.
 The bracelet allowed him to enter all parts of the club aside from
rooms in private use by clients, and any of the exits. He’d been told the last
time he’d been given the clunky piece of jewelry that if he so much as got
close to one of those doors an alarm would sound, alerting nearby security,
and he’d yet to test that. Not because he wasn’t curious, but because there
was no reason to.
What life awaited him outside those doors? Hunter had spent the
past ten years on the run, living in filth, no better than an animal. Half his
nights he’d been close to freezing to death, the other half, mostly starved.
The temperature in the club was always warm, comfortable, and if he was
hungry, ever, all he had to do was ask and food would be brought to him
right away.
Yes, he inwardly sighed, he’d been tamed, but so what? He’d gained
protection and comfort in exchange for his body and blood. A fair trade.
And pride? That thing he’d been clinging so tightly too? It hadn’t taken
nearly as great of a hit as he’d feared.
Hunter had wanted Odin for a long time, and now he had him.
What was there to be embarrassed about that?
Really, both of them were winners here, they’d just been too
stubborn in the beginning to acknowledge as much.
That still didn’t mean he one hundred percent liked him. Odin was
controlling and domineering; he’d grown up as the prince of the mafia and
was ten times more insufferable now that he was king than he’d been when
they’d been younger. They still argued, still fought, and Hunter still resisted
his advances now and again.
He could admit, if only to himself, that their dynamic was growing
on him.
“If it isn’t Hunter Thorn, in the flesh.” A man seamlessly stepped
from a room Hunter had been passing, falling into pace at his side. His
hands were in his pockets, a friendly look painted across his face, but there
was no hiding the glimmer of interest in his dark eyes.
“Wren,” Hunter greeted, “it’s been a while.”
“Years,” he agreed. He was dressed in leather pants and platform
boots. His shirt was a plain black T, and silver earrings winked down the
curve of his entire right ear.
Hunter had yet to run into the third Dominus of Sanctum, but he’d
known that Wren often visited the club, that he and Odin were still close
even after all this time. Back when he’d been a mere soldier, there’d been
no reason for him and the other man to speak, so they’d rarely if ever had
any personal contact with one another. Still, he spoke casually now, not
wanting to appear weak in front of him, even knowing that as a Shout and a
Dominus, Wren technically was owed respect.
According to Odin, Hunter didn’t have to fear him the way he did
Isa. But he’d be the judge of that.
“You’re looking well,” Wren said.
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I’m a well-kept captive.”
“Are you?”
“You just said it yourself.” Hunter hadn’t bothered stopping, and the
two of them continued to walk down the long hall, headed in the direction
of one of the three main bars.
“I meant,” Wren drawled, “are you a captive? Really? You seem
rather…,” his gaze dropped down the length of him, “calm, for someone
supposedly here against his will.”
“If you were hoping to see me in a panic,” Hunter replied, “I’m
afraid you’re four months too late.”
“Ah,” he nodded, “it has been a while since he brought you here,
hasn’t it. You were always good at adjusting.”
Hunter quirked his brow questioningly and Wren smiled wryly.
“Odin wasn’t the only one who noticed you, you know.”
“Careful.” His spine straightened and his eyes narrowed in warning.
“Because Odin wouldn’t like hearing it?” Wren asked.
“Because I don’t like hearing it,” he corrected.
“Ouch. With teeth like that I can see why my friend’s been so
frustrated since finding you. Although, it seems to be better as of late.”
No one could know that they’d mated. It would mean letting on that
Hunter was a Whisper that was dangerous in and of itself. They’d agreed to
keep his identity hidden, and since Whispers were so rare, no one had
seemed all that suspicious even when Odin had refused to leave Hunter’s
side for an entire week.
Knowing the story being spread around was because Hunter had
finally accepted the other man and his fate, he felt another prick against that
pesky pride of his, but it was nowhere near as unpleasant as it would have
been before.
 Mating with a Shout had done something to him on some deeper
level, he felt more relaxed, more comfortable in his skin and his
surroundings. Maybe it was simply due to the fact he knew he was safer
now. Having a Shout meant having protection for the rest of his life, after
all. It meant having someone who would care for him, look out for him,
even sometimes dote on him.
Hunter’s mind wandered to the other night when Odin had bathed
him, passing his hands lightly over every inch of his body in a completely
nonsexual way. At some point, Hunter had even drifted off, waking to find
himself being carried from the bath and gently deposited on the bed. They
hadn’t fucked at all, Odin had let him sleep and had held him close all the
while instead.
“Hello?” Wren snapped his fingers in front of Hunter’s face, and
with a start, he realized that they’d reached the entrance to the bar.
“Daydreaming about a certain Dominus, Thorn?”
“Just call me Hunter,” he said. Odin had already given him more
nicknames than he could keep up with. Sometimes it was Huntsman, other
times it was Little Whisper. Since that night, he’d even taken to calling him
baby once in a while in the throes of passion.
“Or,” Odin’s voice suddenly trickled to them, deep and rumbly, “he
could not call you at all.” He appeared around the corner, blocking their
way into the bar.
“When did you get here?” Wren asked, and if the way the other man
glared at him affected him at all, he didn’t show it. “I’ve been waiting.”
“With my Huntsman it seems.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “We ran into each other in the hall.” There
was a cut on the side of Odin’s arm that hadn’t been there this morning and
he frowned at it. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head, grunting when Hunter stared and
waited for more of an explanation. “Worried about me? I can survive a tiny
scratch. As you well know.”
The cuts they’d given one another had healed over quickly thanks to
the power thrumming in their blood, so there was no evidence of what
they’d done.
“I have information,” Wren cut into their conversation. “Do you
want it or not?”
 “That depends,” Odin draped an arm over Hunter’s shoulders, “if
you were truly waiting for me, why bother my Huntsman?”
“We’re old friends too if you recall.”
“You are not,” Odin corrected firmly, gaze instantly darkening at the
mere suggestion.
Hunter tilted his head and pretended to consider it. “He was always
very kind to me when he came to visit you.”
“Is that so?” He leaned in to press his mouth against Hunter’s eye,
lowering his voice so that Wren couldn’t hear him. “You said I wasn’t kind
to you before, but him you recall differently? You’ll pay for that later,
Huntsman.”
He had no idea what came over him, but there was something
thrilling about getting under Snow’s skin and seeing him jealous, so before
he could think better, he replied, “I’m busy later, actually. Wren and I have
plan—”
Odin’s mouth crashed onto his, tongue prying his lips open so he
could invade in quick, possessive motions. He consumed him, right there in
the middle of the hallway, for everyone, including his friend, to witness. His
arms wrapped around Hunter, keeping him in place as he kissed him until
their lips were red and swollen and their breathing was labored between
them.
“Mine, Hunter,” he growled, pulling away just enough to get the
words out. “Say it.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed slightly, bristling, but…Who cared if he
was being told to publicly acknowledge he’d given into Odin. That much
was already obvious. Still…
He lifted onto his toes to nip at Odin’s lips, hard enough to cause a
sting and then smirked triumphantly before confirming, “Yours. I’m yours.”
“And I’m about to throw up,” Wren stated.
“Then wisely keep your distance next time.” Odin sent him a
warning look and then seemed satisfied his point had been made. He
motioned to the two of them to follow him and turned to head down a
different hallway.
“I was going to get a drink,” Hunter complained, but he followed,
curiosity getting the better of him. He hadn’t been invited anywhere by
Snow outside of the bedroom yet, even though he’d been walking around
the club for a while now.
 “I’ll get you one,” Odin promised, leading them to his office located
on the second floor.
It was a large space with two couches that faced each other, and a
coffee table set between them. His desk was massive and well organized,
the fireplace in the corner already a blaze. Thick velvet curtains had been
drawn back, showcasing a fantastic view of the strip, and Hunter went over
to one, glancing down at street lights and the groups of people as they made
their way through Liaand Norra.
He didn’t know how long he stood there watching, but when
someone tapped his shoulder he pulled his eyes off the crowd and turned to
find Odin holding out a glass half filled with amber liquor.
He accepted without a word, sipping at it lightly as he rested back
against the window ledge to focus on the happenings within the room
instead.
Odin set a hand next to Hunter’s hip and leaned in, voice dropping
into a silky purr, seemingly unconcerned by the fact they weren’t alone and
his friend was currently seated on one of the couches shamelessly observing
them. “See something you like, Huntsman?”
“And if I did?” He turned his eyes onto Odin challengingly. He’d
been given a longer leash since their mating, but he hadn’t been unchained
completely.
Odin sighed. “Things have been going so well for us, don’t spoil it
now.”
“What? Does the truth hurt?”
His hand fisted on the windowsill. “Do you want to leave,
Huntsman?”
“Yes,” he replied without skipping a beat, but shifted closer so that
his side was pressed against Odin’s arm. “With you.”
That answer seemed to catch the other man off guard, and for a
second all Odin did was blink down at him. “Really?”
“I’m not suicidal.” Hunter pulled away in one swift move, going to
the couch opposite Wren and plopping down into the center. “I go out there
alone and the Frost Brumal will tear me apart. No thank you.” He lifted his
glass to Odin, who remained by the window. “I’ll take my chances with
you. The odds seem better.”
“Either you lied about him being stubborn,” Wren said then, “or
something has changed between the two of you.”
 Odin was quiet, watching Hunter for a long spell before he exhaled
and addressed his friend. “Your reason for coming, Wren?”
Hunter didn’t move away when Snow came over and sat down next
to him, draping an arm over the back of the couch in a clear possessive
gesture. He almost shivered even, anticipation growing in his gut. He’d
caught that glint in Odin’s eye just now before he’d broken their staring
contest.
He was turned on.
All it’d taken was a couple of comments from Hunter and he had
Odin riled up.
“No, but seriously.” Wren leaned in, watching them both closely. “A
week goes by and suddenly you’re playing happy couple? Wasn’t he locked
up?”
“I’d call it convenient couple,” Hunter corrected, ignoring the way
Snow tensed at his side. He shrugged at Wren when the other man glanced
between them, clearly wondering what had possessed him to rattle the other
Dominus.
It was sick but…Honestly?
“This is foreplay.” As soon as the words left his lips he regretted
them. Still, he kept his composure, sipping from the drink lightly as Wren’s
eyes went wide.
“You should really stop teasing me now,” Odin warned, only to have
his friend make a sound of protest.
“Please don’t.” Wren held up his glass toward Hunter in the sign of
a toast. “About time someone gives him a run for his money. Besides, if it
was going to be anyone, it makes sense it’s you, Thorn.”
Hunter cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
He snorted. “As if anyone didn’t notice the longing looks you two
sent each other’s way when we were younger.”
Right. Because Wren had been there back then, he would have
picked up on Hunter’s old feelings toward Snow. It was, however, a bit
surprising to hear that he’d caught Snow sending glances back.
“It’s not what you think,” Hunter found himself saying, but then
Odin’s hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed once.
“Your reason for coming?” Odin repeated more insistently.
Heaving a sigh, Wren set his glass down on the coffee table.
“Word’s gotten around that you’ve been holing up in your little love nest.
My spies say Isa isn’t taking the news well. Even his own people are afraid
of what he might do. The fact that you’ve been going about your regular
routine as of late hasn’t fazed him. Rumor is he’s out for blood.”
“So let him come,” he replied dismissively.
Jita had woken a little over a week ago and Snow had been spending
time checking in on him at the hospital. Between that, running Liaand
Norra, and whatever plans he’d been working on to fight against Isa, he’d
been busy. Whatever Wren was telling him, he’d clearly already been
preparing for it.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Wren asked. “We’re not ready. He
overtook you the other night and—”
“What?” Hunter straightened.
“It’s nothing,” Odin said, but he waved him off, keeping his
attention on Wren.
“Isa visited,” Wren began tentatively, “and there was a scuffle
between the two of them. Odin almost set the entire club on fire.”
“Not true,” he disagreed. “I had it under control. I had him under
control.”
“Was that before or after he almost froze you?” Wren clucked his
tongue. “You used to be more powerful than your step-brother, but that was
many years ago. Since he’s absorbed his mother’s powers, he’s ten times
stronger and you know it. That’s why we’ve waited for as long as we have.”
He turned to Hunter. “We would have kept waiting if not for Thorn’s
untimely discovery.”
“You’re the one who found him, remember?” Odin drawled.
“Yes,” Wren rolled his eyes. “How could I forget? It took me over
five years.”
“You helped kidnap me?” Hunter couldn’t hold back the edge in his
tone. Sure, there were aspects of his life now that were better than they’d
been, his quality of life, for one. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still upset
over having lost his freedom. Over having that stripped away along with all
other aspects of control over himself and his situation.
He’d agreed to mate with Odin because there’d been no other
options left to him. If he was still on the run, on the other side of the planet,
he’d be no doubt hungry and possibly out on the streets, but he’d at least
have his own—
 Odin’s hand settled on the back of his neck, his fingers splaying to
touch as much of him as possible. He merely rested it there, not applying
any pressure, but the meaning was clear enough and all it did was make
Hunter angrier.
“Easy, Huntsman,” he said softly, smiling when Hunter sent him a
glare. “Wren was only doing as he was told.”
“Wren isn’t the one I currently want to punch in the face,” he
agreed.
“I’m sorry, I would like a little clarification before this show
continues,” Wren interrupted. “Do you two like each other now or not?”
“Yes,” the two of them snapped at the same time.
“Are you sure?”
Hunter wasn’t, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit
as much. Truthfully though, he was torn. Everything he was feeling was a
mixture of good and bad, making it next to impossible to sort any one
emotion out from the other. Some moments he was grateful he was safe and
warm and fed. Others he hated himself for feeling that way. For giving in.
Sometimes all he could think about was Odin’s mouth on his, on his
body, the feel of him pounding deep inside, hitting that spot that he liked so
much.
Sometimes he wanted to slit the guy’s throat for keeping him here
and forcing his hand.
It was…unsettling to not understand his own mind. To be so unsure
of himself and his thoughts and feelings. That was probably the worst part
of it for Hunter. Odin was no longer the boy he’d known as a young adult,
and yet…There were times when he still saw that younger version in him.
And, really, it wasn’t entirely his fault they were here either.
It was Isa Frost’s.
“You’ve forgiven him for almost killing you in the forest?” Wren
asked.
“Yes,” Odin claimed, but Hunter almost snorted derisively.
He hadn’t. He’d merely shoved his anger aside since discovering
that Hunter was a Whisper.
They’d spent every night together for weeks now, neither of them
pushing the other away for the first time since they’d met again, and it was
intimate. But they weren’t close. They didn’t share whispered words of
comfort or romance in the dark. Odin hadn’t told him he even liked him, let
alone that he loved him. It was always just claims of ownership.
Did Hunter even like him? He liked his dick, certainly. If someone
told him that cock had brainwashed him into complying with all of this, he
wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. But…
For ten years he’d carried the guilt over what had happened in the
forest like a weight. Half the time, it was that keeping him awake at night
and not the image of his sister’s dead body discarded like trash in some
abandoned warehouse or on the side of the road.
Odin Snow had been good to him back then, better than anyone else
had, and Hunter had tried desperately all this time to push those
recollections aside. Tried not to remember how much he’d cared for the
other man. It’d been so much more than a crush. More than sexual
attraction.
“You keep looking at me like that, Huntsman,” Odin whispered
then, cutting into his thoughts, “and I’ll strip you down right here and now,
whether Wren stays or not.”
He blinked and pulled away, shaking free of that hand on the back
of his neck. Glowering at him for a second, he turned back toward the other
Dominus who was still watching them closely from across the coffee table.
As soon as their eyes met, Wren nodded. “I see.”
“See what?” Odin stated, but Hunter knew what he meant.
Wren had figured out that Hunter was foolishly falling for Snow,
and that he hated that he was.
There was no logical reason for it. Odin had been nothing but
arrogant and aggressive and a complete and total asshole, and yet…Hunter
was worried hearing that he’d been harmed by Isa. He was worried hearing
that Isa might try and harm him again. It would be easy to try and convince
himself it was because he needed Odin alive to stay safe, and part of him
wanted to hide behind that. If this had only been last month, he would have.
But something inside of him had changed that night they’d mated.
Hunter didn’t want to hide from himself anymore. It was already
exhausting enough doing so from the rest of the world. That was why he
was struggling so hard to sort through his feelings. Not so he could share
them with anyone else, but so that he could at least look himself in the
mirror without flinching away.
 “Not everything has to make logical sense,” Wren told him, the
words meant for Hunter. “Some things are just out of our control. Don’t
beat yourself up over it.”
“I feel disgusted,” Hunter said without thinking.
“Why? Because society says you should be?” He crossed a leg and
stretched his arms over the back of the couch. “Fuck society. The straight
and narrow is boring anyway. Live a little, Thorn. What do you have to
lose?”
Now? Nothing. Hunter had nothing left, he’d even given over
himself already. A mating bond between a Shout and a Whisper was
forever. They could separate, of course, with little to no repercussions, but
he’d know they were connected, no matter how far he ran. His blood
wouldn’t be as potent to other Shout’s—which he didn’t care about, at all—
and Odin would lose his power boost, but they’d be all right otherwise.
That was the logical repercussion.
The illogical one?
If Hunter hadn’t been able to shake Odin from his system before,
there was no way he was going to be able to do so now after everything
they’d been through.
He’d trapped himself just as surely as Snow had trapped him. Hell,
he’d tossed away the key.
Actually, there was one thing he had to lose after all.
“Odin,” he said. “He’s all I have left. So if you came here to warn
him about something Isa has planned, let’s get back to it and come up with
a way to stop him.”
The Snow Dominus was uncharacteristically silent at his side.
“Frost already took my sister,” Hunter told Wren. “He’s not taking
anything else.”
“Are you admitting you want me, Huntsman?” He held himself still,
not bothering to hide the intensity in his dark eyes.
Even knowing they weren’t alone, he reached out and took a handful
of Odin’s shirt tightly in his fist. “You’re already mine, Snow, remember?”
Wren choked on a sip of his drink, sputtering and—thankfully—
putting an end to that part of the conversation. By the time he’d recovered,
Hunter had let go and they were both back to sitting comfortably next to
one another.
“Sorry,” Wren mumbled, wiping at his mouth.
 “You were in the process of saying Isa is too strong for me,” Odin
drawled.
“Right.” He cleared his throat and sobered so quickly that if Hunter
had blinked he would have missed the change. “I think it’s time.”
“No.”
“We’re out of options,” he insisted. “If Isa makes a direct attack now
he’ll—”
“I have another solution. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Odin.”
“It’s true,” he said. “I have a way to become stronger than my step-
brother. We don’t need to resort to—”
“Your father isn’t even aware of his surroundings,” Wren stated,
getting frustrated. “He hasn’t been truly present in over a decade, Odin. I
understand your need to hang on, but you’ve always known it was going to
come to this eventually.”
“It hasn’t,” he growled. “I have another way.”
“What way?” Wren flung out his arms. “Tell me. You can’t?
Because it’s bullshit. The only way to gain power is by absorbing it straight
from a family member, and your father is—”
“Alive?” Hunter had been trying to hold back from interrupting, but
could no longer contain himself. “Ander Snow is alive?”
“You did that on purpose,” Odin accused Wren.
“The two of you are obviously together now, for whatever reason
that may be, and not that fake dating nonsense you fed to Isa at the gala
either. This,” he pointed a finger between the two of them, “is the real deal.
You both hate it, but it’s true, so as far as I’m concerned, there’s no point in
hiding anything from him.”
“That isn’t your choice to make.”
“What are you going to do about it? Light me on fire?”
“Enough,” Hunter said.
Odin blew out a breath. “Yes, my father is alive.”
“How?”
“He was snuck out of the mansion and brought to a safe location,”
Odin explained. “I started the rumors that he’d died and I absorbed his
powers to help keep him hidden, and since I returned years later alive and
well, people believed it.”
Including Isa.
 “He isn’t himself though,” he continued.
“Brain dead,” Wren put in, holding up his hands in a sign of
surrender when Odin made a sound of annoyance.
That meant for over ten years now Ander Snow had been nothing
more than a vegetable. It had to have taken a lot of resources to keep him
hidden and off the grid, and he wasn’t even in a competent enough state to
realize what his son was doing for him.
Ander had been tough on his kid, almost to the point of being cruel
in some instances. On more than one occasion, Odin had returned from a
“sparring” match with his father with a broken bone or two. He’d also
forced him to be the epitome of clean-cut, which was no doubt why Odin
preferred an edgier style now.
“Why didn’t you end him and take his power?” Hunter asked. Even
without being able to consent to the exchange, his father was a powerful
Shout. The boost he’d still get from inking his ashes would be great.
“Attachment,” Wren answered for him when Odin was quiet for too
long.
“He’s my father,” Odin said.
“He’s a tyrant,” the other Dominus unapologetically corrected. “And
now he’s your only chance.”
“He’s—” Hunter began, but Odin grabbed onto his thigh and
gripped him tight to keep him from talking. He must have figured that he’d
been about to admit he was a Whisper. They’d agreed to keep it a secret
from everyone, but Wren was Odin’s closest friend, and it was plain as day
that he cared for Odin.
“I have another way,” was all Odin said.
Wren frowned.
When his eyes lingered on Hunter a little too long, it was clear he’d
picked up on enough to have realized something all on his own.
“All right,” he finally conceded, rising to his feet. “You have
another way. Use it, fast. The spies say Isa is planning something. No one
has been allowed close enough to gather any details, but he’s got something
up his sleeve.”
“He’s most likely trying to figure out how to buy back all the
property I have in his territory,” Odin guessed.
“We all know that’s not why he targeted Jita.” Wren shook his head.
“No, it’s something else.”
 “Why’d he target Jita?” Hunter asked, but he didn’t need anyone to
tell him. It clicked a second later. “Oh. Isa was jealous about what happened
at the gala.”
“He was upset that I ran out on him to help you that night you were
drugged by that lunatic,” Odin corrected. Not that it made much of a
difference.
“I told you not to parade me in front of him.”
“Do you want me to admit you were right?” Odin asked. “You were,
but I still wouldn’t have done it any differently.”
No, he wouldn’t have, because Isa being aware of Hunter had forced
Hunter’s hands.
“Asshole.”
“As fun as this has been,” Wren said then, “and as much as I’d love
to stick around and see you two switch back and forth between nice and
mean to one another, I should get back to the Yellow Brick Road. I have
people reporting in later. With any luck, they’ll have discovered something
else that’s useful.”
Yellow Brick Road was a part of the city where all of the gambling
dens and casinos were located. It was a lot like Odin’s Red Light Distract,
Liaand Norra, and not a single road at all. Since it hadn’t been there, at least
not in that capacity and not with that name, when Hunter had lived here in
the past, he’d never gone anywhere near the gambling district.
He didn’t wait for either of them to respond or bother with
goodbyes, Wren simply walked out without so much as a second glance,
shutting the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone once more.
 CHAPTER 10:

“You were very forward just now,” Odin said after the door had
closed behind his friend.
“It was camouflage,” Hunter replied, then when the other man’s
eyes narrowed, admitted, “Mostly.” Since they’d attended the gala together
and he’d been introduced as his date, everyone already believed the two of
them were together anyway. But Wren was different. He knew the truth of
the matter, at least in part, and Hunter had been more comfortable acting
like himself. “He’s been helping you against Frost?”
Odin hummed. “Together we form a large chunk of the Brumal, a
formidable adversary. That’s largely the reason Isa has stood back all these
years.”
“Lying in wait,” Hunter said.
Odin frowned. “He mentioned that he was hoping I would
eventually forgive him. Seeing that I’d forgiven you triggered him into
action.”
“Which is what you wanted,” he pointed out. “Remember? Even
when I warned you against it.”
“I didn’t believe you.”
“But you do now?”
Odin was silent.
“Isa wants you.” Hunter had seen it for himself. “I’m not sure why
he bothered trying to have you killed if he was just going to hold on all of
these years anyway.”
“He claims it was his mother’s doing,” Odin said, but it was clear he
didn’t one hundred percent buy that excuse.
Hunter was a little easier to convince. It made sense when he
thought about it. Isabel Frost ran the Frost Family with an iron fist, stricter
even than Ander Snow had been when it came to her son. She’d used
different tactics, sure, instead of fear, she’d opted for devotion.
It’d worked.
 “Isa would have done anything his mother asked,” Hunter
concluded. “Even kill the man he loved.”
“He never loved me,” Odin looked away, “no one has. It was
obsession. It’s still obsession. He wants what he can’t have, nothing more,
nothing less. And he can’t. I’ll never go back to him.”
“Not willingly,” Hunter said, making the other guy sneer. “What? I
didn’t think I’d come back to you either, but look where we’re sitting.”
“I forced you.”
“Who’s to say he won’t find a way to force you?” It was a
possibility. Isa was stronger than Odin. “He would have done anything she
asked, but clearly she pushed him too far in the end. He killed his mom and
absorbed her powers and now he’s stronger than you are, Snow. More so
than most believe even, if it’s true you didn’t murder your father.”
“Does that seem out of character to you?” Odin asked and he
thought it over.
“Honestly?” There were two versions of the man before him. “For
the past you? No. For this one sitting here with me now? Kind of.”
“I’m one and the same,” he disagreed.
Hunter wasn’t buying that and it must have shown on his face.
“What? Because I used to bring you baked goods before and follow
you unquestioningly into forests, but now I—”
“Torture me and keep me prisoner?” Hunter finished for him.
Odin’s mouth thinned in displeasure. “I admit I’ve harmed you a
little, but I’ve never straight out tortured you, Huntsman, and I never will.
Ever. If I hurt you, it’ll be with my cock—”
“Which is still causing me pain.”
“Tit for tat.”
He frowned. “I shot you once and you survived. I think we’re even
now, if nothing else.”
“Are we?” Odin tilted his head, inspecting him.
“We have to be,” Hunter said, “if we have a hope of defeating Isa,
we need to be on the same page, Snow.”
“You want my forgiveness for shooting me?” He considered it.
“You’re already my mate. I’ve gotten what I want. Why should I let go of
any lingering animosity toward you?”
“Forget it.” This was only serving to make Hunter uncomfortable
and nervous. Things had been going rather well between them, at least on
the surface, and he didn’t want to return to the time before when he’d been
on edge whenever Odin had entered the room. “Let’s get back to Isa and
how to deal with him.”
An all-out war between the Brumal families was impossible. All that
would lead to was blood running rivers in the streets. The whole system
would crumble and the government would have to get involved. Meaning
more carnage. More death. Innocent people would suffer the most if it came
to that, and no matter who was left standing in the end, the loss would be so
great it most likely wouldn’t even be worth it.
Hunter knew this, which meant all three Dominus knew it as well.
“He’ll have to challenge you one on one.” That made the most
sense. “If we’re to believe what he’s told you, the only reason he hasn’t
already was because he hoped you’d eventually forgive him and go back on
your own. You aren’t going to, and he sees that now.” Hunter leaned against
the couch, his head resting on Odin’s arm which had returned to drape over
the leather. “All of this over a lover spat. That’s how it’s always been
though, right? Nothing else matters to either of you except for each other.
He’s made his move to get you back and you’ve mated with me in order to
get revenge.”
The air whooshed out of his lungs as he was suddenly shoved down
onto the couch. He blinked up at Odin who was towering over him, his
body held aloft over his, and noted the fury crackling behind his eyes.
“What?” he asked. “The truth sound sucky to you? Same.”
“I didn’t mate you for revenge,” Odin said, but when Hunter quirked
a brow, he added, “not just for revenge.”
“Then why’d you do it?” Maybe this was what Hunter needed to
help clarify his own emotions. Maybe hearing Snow tell him plain and
simple that this was just a business transaction between the two of them
would help him sort through and discard any lingering feelings he didn’t
like or want to keep within himself.
“What are you after, Little Whisper?” Odin asked. “Do you want me
to tell you I love you? I can’t live without you?”
“This romance bullshit again?” He snorted. “I’m not some delicate
flower, Snow. I know what I got myself into when I agreed to the mating.
This isn’t love, it’s domination—”
“Infatuation,” Odin cut him off, “obsession. Possession. I don’t
know why I want you so badly, is that what you want to hear? That I’m just
as confused as you are about whatever this is between us? I shouldn’t want
you, shouldn’t forgive you. You’re part of the reason I lost everything. Part
of the reason my father lies brain dead in a hospital room this very
moment.”
If Hunter hadn’t shot him that day, he would have been there to help
his father fend off the Frost’s and their attack. There was no denying that.
Ander Snow had already been injured on the stairs, but the Frost’s hadn’t
been finished with him.
“Ten years,” he continued. “That’s how long I’ve spent imagining
all the things I’d do to you once you were in my grasp.” Odin lifted a hand
and settled it around Hunter’s throat. “An entire decade spent imagining
squeezing and watching the life drain from your eyes.”
“So do it,” Hunter challenged, because clearly he was a moron.
“No,” Odin dropped his hand to the cushion at the side of Hunter’s
head, “and I never will. I don’t know if love is even something I’m capable
of, but I didn’t mate with you because of anyone else, let alone Isa. I mated
you because I wanted you, I wanted all of you, forever. I like the way you
fight me, and how you knew me before. How you look at me sometimes
when you think I’m not watching, like I’m still him.”
“You just said you were,” Hunter reminded.
“Would you prefer that?” Odin searched his expression. “Should I
pretend not to like making you scream or taking control of your body?
Should I pass you longing glances instead and bring you sweets and—”
“I like it too,” Hunter blurted, cheeks going red. He closed his eyes,
unable to look at the other man while he confessed to his twisted nature.
One he’d only recently discovered thanks to the imposing Dominus above
him. “I like when you hold me down and you force me to take it. And I like
how badly you want me. Even if it isn’t real. Even if it’s just because my
blood—”
“It’s real,” Odin insisted. “I felt this way even before I found out
you’re a Whisper. I was just in denial. You should understand that. We’re
both very good at it, after all.”
Yes, yes they were.
Hunter exhaled slowly, mostly stalling so he could sort through his
thoughts and figure out how much more he could admit. To the both of
them.
 “Tit for tat,” he ended up saying, causing Odin to frown. “We’re
already mated. We’ve already agreed to stick together. Fine. I like rough
sex, and you like it too. I’ll never roll over and become your docile little
plaything. If I don’t want to do something or I don’t agree with something,
I’m going to tell you and fight you if I have to.”
“Please,” the corner of Odin’s mouth curved up wickedly, “do.”
“But I’ll forgive you for kidnapping me,” he continued as if he
hadn’t spoken, needing to say it before he chickened out, “for locking me
up, if you’ll forgive me for what happened in the forest. Really forgive me.
Let’s start fresh, Odin. Not as the old foot soldier to your prince, or the
captive enemy to your Dominus. I’ll be the Whisper to your Shout. And
you’ll be the Shout to my Whisper. Maybe we’re both too damaged for love
to ever come into play here, but forgiveness? Surely we can manage that.”
He swallowed. “Can’t we?”
Hunter wondered if maybe they were both just a little screwed up.
There was a good chance they were clinging to one another like this merely
because it reminded them of a time in their lives when things had been, not
great, but better. He’d had his sister and Odin had still been the Snow
Prince, lording over the rest of the Brumal, including his step-brother.
If he could go back, knowing that Meg wouldn’t make it anyway,
would he do things differently? Would he tell Odin about Isa’s threats and
take his chances on whether or not the other man would believe him?
Would Odin have believed him?
“Stop,” Snow said then, the word barely a whisper caught between
them for a heavy moment. “No more ‘what ifs’. The past is the past. It’s
over and done with. Isa put us both in an impossible situation back then. I
should have seen his treachery coming but I was too close to it. Too
arrogant. You weren’t sure if you could trust me. I liked you, but I never
said as much out loud, and I was still with Isa. I’ll never forget what
happened that day, but as far as forgiveness goes, where you’re concerned?
All right. I forgive you, Hunter. I’d rather place the blame where it’s
deserved anyway.”
On Isa.
They needed someone to blame, someone to hate, and Isa was the
perfect candidate. Isa was the true reason for everything, even if he’d
merely been dancing to his mother’s tune. At the end of the day, the Frost
Family was behind the destruction of both the Thorn’s and the Snow’s.
 Hunter slipped his fingers through the short hairs at the base of
Odin’s skull and tugged him closer. “Let’s make him pay.” Using his thumb
nail, he sliced a thin line at the hollow of his throat and presented it to the
other man. “Together.”
He’d been operating on the assumption, like the rest of the planet,
that Odin had absorbed his father’s power through his ashes. But if Ander
Snow was alive, that meant he hadn’t transferred any power to his son. That
put them at a severe disadvantage against Isa, who had his mother’s ashes
inked all over his body.
“Shouts can build up power by consuming the blood of their mated
Whisper daily,” Hunter said, unsure how much Odin was aware about the
blood exchange, since no one had thought a Whisper would be found.
“Supposedly, it’ll allow you to hold onto the boost for a much longer period
of time.” Some rumors even said permanently, but he wasn’t sure how
much validity was in that statement.
Odin glanced down at the welling blood. “You did your homework
while you were away.”
He nodded.
As soon as he’d realized what he was, Hunter had gotten his hands
on every piece of information regarding the Whispers that he could.
Constantly traveling had brought him to various resources, allowing him to
discover new information. Even though it hadn’t been that long since
Whispers were common—not even a hundred years at least—there was
surprisingly little information, and even less that came from a verified
source.
“Were you trying to understand yourself better,” Odin wondered, “or
were you preparing for something like this?”
Hunter tightened his grip around Odin’s neck, already guessing
where he was going with that line of thinking. Things had started moving in
the right direction between them, finally. He wasn’t about to let it derail
simply because the other man couldn’t get a hold of his jealousy issues.
“I was preparing for what might happen to me if I were ever caught
and found out,” he said. “I wasn’t imagining anyone in particular while I
was looking into this.”
“No?”
“Odin.” It wasn’t like Hunter had ever paid much attention to Wren,
and they both knew his stance on Isa so…
 He seemed to come to this same conclusion a second later, sighing
and pressing his lips lightly against Hunter’s, once, twice, before moving to
lap at the already drying line of blood like a kitten to milk. He latched onto
his throat, licking at the wound even though it’d been shallow enough it
would have closed already. At the same time, he began lightly grinding
down against the apex of Hunter’s thighs, rubbing them both in a way that
instantly had sparks flying between them.
Hunter felt himself grow hard behind the zipper of his jeans and
moaned, lifting his hips to meet Odin the next time he pressed down.
They’d made progress, sure, but it was obvious they were mostly
still just operating off of physical attraction more than anything else.
For now, he could live with that.
 CHAPTER 11:

“Should he be here?” Vetle peered over at where Hunter stood for

what had to be the millionth time in the past twenty minutes alone.
Hunter almost rolled his eyes, but somehow managed to keep his
composure. He was standing against the wall, his arms crossed over his
chest, listening in on the meeting. So far, there hadn’t been much for him to
personally contribute, and mostly, he was grateful he’d been allowed there
at all.
He almost snorted at that thought. Him, grateful to Snow. Go figure.
But since they’d mated and come to an agreement, the Snow
Dominus had more than kept his promises. Hunter was allowed to roam
throughout the entire club, and he’d continued his training with Loni. Every
day he felt himself getting a little stronger, a little better. His body had
recalled things his mind had long forgotten, and the old training he’d
experienced as a teen had rushed back to him quickly.
Odin was also being more open with him, including with details
about Isa and his plans, which was why Hunter was here with him, his
underboss, and the twins, waiting for Jita to arrive.
They were on the second level in one of the meeting rooms kept
specifically for members of the Brumal. Both the twins and Vetle were
seated at the wooden table, but Hunter had opted to remain standing on the
opposite side of the door, near the window so he could glance out at the
bustling nightlife below. Odin was nearby.
“From now on, unless ordered otherwise, Hunter is to be given
anything he wants,” Odin set his gaze on Vetle, “and told anything he wants
as well. The only thing he can’t do is leave this building. Anyone who helps
him do so will be expelled from the Brumal. Understood?”
That last part sort of went without saying, and this time Hunter gave
in and did roll his eyes, turning to glance out the window as a black
hovercar rolled up. They were facing the main streets and were too high up
for him to identify whoever it was who exited the vehicle, so he didn’t
bother.
 Jita had finally been discharged from the hospital and was being
brought straight here. He’d wanted to go home first, but Odin had been
worried for his safety and had insisted he come to the club instead. They’d
even set up rooms for him for the time being. Typically, the councilor had
his own space away from the Brumal to help keep up appearances of
separate ties. But no one knew how far Isa was willing to take things, and
it’d become apparent—at least to Hunter—that Odin cared about Jita more
than he’d verbally let on.
He cared about all of his people, really. The twins, who Hunter had
once felt a little jealous of, were girls he’d rescued from the streets and
trained into warriors. They were always with him in one capacity or
another, and unerringly loyal. They treated him like an older brother.
Vetle respected him. Hunter had been aware that he’d waited around
for Odin’s return, keeping as many members of the Snow family branch
alive on his own until that day came. He’d been certain it would, had kept
hope alive for the others.
Isa was a monster who’d murdered his mother and taken control of
the Brumal, but it wasn’t just that they hadn’t wanted to work for someone
like that. Truth be told, everyone in this room and out was more than aware
that Odin was capable of the same level of cruelty as his step-brother.
The only thing Hunter could think of was that he hadn’t been the
only one to experience the kinder side to Snow when they’d been younger.
His father had ruled with the motto that their people came first. Even when
he was beating his son in the name of making him stronger, that was still
always the case. He’d pounded that ideology into Odin’s head, and clearly
it’d stuck.
There weren’t rumors circulating the streets about Odin harming his
own for no good reason, that was for sure. The same couldn’t be said about
Isa.
When he’d been halfway across the globe, Hunter had even
overheard one particular story about Isa’s assistant getting him the wrong
lunch order while on a business trip. He’d broken the man’s fingers one at a
time. Then he’d frozen them with his power and smashed them to bits.
Even thinking about that now had him shuddering. His own
experience with Isa’s brutality back at the Faraway Mansion during the gala
was still a sick memory in his mind, one that played every now and again in
his nightmares. He’d thought he was stronger than that, that he’d already
experienced all the trauma he could after Meg’s death and living in constant
fear on the run.
He’d been wrong.
It wasn’t something he wanted to go through again, which was why
he hadn’t bothered fighting Odin’s order to remain in the club. Even weeks
later, he still stood by that this was the safest place for him. Even Jita hadn’t
been left alone out there. Hunter had no hope of it.
Besides, it wasn’t so bad. The club was constantly alive and in
motion. If he was bored, he could go downstairs and mingle, or drink in the
corner and people-watch. If he felt restless, he could train. And if he was
lonely, he could talk to one of the twins—he was finally starting to rub off
on Loni, he knew he was—or call Odin.
And if he did ask someone to get in touch with the Snow Dominus,
he always came. No matter what he was doing or where in the city he was
at the time. Odin always dropped whatever he was doing and came at
Hunter’s behest.
It’d gotten him to thinking…which one of them was really the one
on the leash? Was a cage still a cage if the person trapped inside of it
wanted to be there? Was the man in charge really the man in charge when
he’d jump at a single word from his supposed captive?
What the absolute hell were the two of them doing?
“Isa has yet to fight any of the legally purchased stocks or buildings
we acquired,” Vetle said then, dropping his unease at Hunter’s presence. It
was unclear how he felt about him, since he always seemed to be on guard
whenever Hunter was around.
Hunter had been told that Vetle was there when Odin had stumbled
from the forest and had been one of the few who’d helped get him to a safe
place before he’d returned for the rest of the Snow Family. He’d watched
over them while Odin had healed.
“He’s not going to,” Odin told them. “He didn’t attack Jita or me
over that.”
“Then why?”
Hunter held up a hand. “Hey.”
Vetle frowned, but Odin elaborated before Hunter could.
“He was upset about my relationship with the Huntsman. This was
his way of trying to get me to end things. He claims he wants the two of us
to get back together. He’s even offered to rule the Brumal equally if I do.”
 “Do you believe him?” Vetle asked.
“Even if I did,” Odin glared, “I wouldn’t accept.”
“Good.” He nodded and then thought things over before, “Word on
the streets is he’s planning something, but no one has any details on what.”
“Wren reported the same.”
“We have to assume it’s something against Hunter,” Corbi cut in.
She was more talkative than her sister but still didn’t say more than was
ever needed. The two of them had an almost calming presence that Hunter
had taken a liking too—aside from those times when they moved like
shadows and appeared next to him unannounced to spook the shit out of
him. “Though, he has to know he can’t get to him here.”
“What a waste of energy,” Vetle said. “He stood back all these years
and didn’t bother challenging you, but he’s doing so now because of
jealousy? It’s not like this is the first person you’ve slept with in the past
decade.”
“No,” Loni tapped her fingers on the surface of the table and gave
him a warning look, “but it is the first he’s shown a real interest in someone.
Hunter matters. He’s not just some passing fling or a warm body to fuck.”
Hunter almost choked on an inhale and when all eyes turned to him
he held out a hand. As soon as the coughing fit had past, he turned his
incredulous gaze on her. “I can’t believe you just said the word fuck.”
He’d never heard her cuss in any capacity before and had considered
her the proper type.
“She has a dirty mouth,” Odin drawled, clearly understanding what
he meant, “when she uses it. But also,” his eyes narrowed slightly, “since
when were the two of you so close?”
“Us?” Hunter moved to rest his hands on the windowsill, crossing
his ankles before him. “We’re besties.”
“Please don’t ever use that term again,” Loni stated.
“What? Too playful for a big bad Brumal member?”
“You should stop taunting her,” Odin warned, “before Isa stops
being the only irrationally jealous Dominus you have to worry about. Keep
the teasing foreplay for me, Huntsman.”
“Do you think he’s discovered a new power source?” Vetle asked,
obviously wanting them to get back on track.
“Why bother?” Corbi said. “He’s already the strongest Shout on
Sanctum.”
 “Everyone in this room is aware of my father’s condition,” Odin
told Hunter. “But aside from them, Wren, and Jita, no one else is.”
So don’t go around running his mouth to others about it. Check.
“You told him about that?” Vetle didn’t sound pleased.
“I trust him.”
“Is that wise?”
“Yes.”
“But—”
“If it makes you feel better,” Hunter cut off the underboss before he
could continue, “consider my options. Isa will kill me on sight. Odin is
keeping me alive. Not really rocket science at this point which side I
choose, now is it?”
“Not to mention,” Odin added, “That Isa murdered his sister.”
Vetle grew quiet a moment. “I remember her. Megan, right? She had
a loud voice and a fearless nature.”
That actually sounded like respect in his tone, and Hunter
straightened. When he saw that he was being serious and not about to
launch into insults, he bowed his head once in silent thanks.
“Hunter was Brumal ten years ago,” Odin announced, “and that
never stopped. He’s part of the Snow Family. Everyone here, including him,
wants to see Isa dethroned.”
That was an altogether odd thing to hear spoken out loud, but
Hunter was smart enough not to question it at the moment, in front of the
others. He and Odin hadn’t specifically spoken about that yet, and he wasn’t
sure if it was something they’d need to now or if he should just except and
roll with it.
He’d been in training when his father had been around, but only for
a short while, less than six months by that point. It’d been a formality
mostly, meant to help his dad prove his loyalties to the Brumal. Hunter had
been promised that it’d be for a year, max, and that he could still continue
with his studies. That afterward, he’d be free to move on with his life with
the Snow family paying a full ride to the top school in the city. Even then,
he’d known that last part wasn’t going to happen.
Meg had always been the smart one in the family. He’d switched the
deal so that it’d be her school that would get paid off. But then their dad had
up and vanished one day out of the blue, and Hunter needed to step up.
More and more of his time had been spent at the Faraway Mansion,
watching Odin from the sidelines, a bodyguard that was more meant to act
as a sacrifice than anything else.
If anyone needed protection when one of the Shouts was involved, it
wasn’t them. It was everyone else who was unlucky enough to be around
them at the time. If someone had come after any of the young Brumal
princes, the princes would have dealt with them on their own.
To say Hunter had been a part of the organization was almost
laughable when he thought back on it now. He’d been window trapping,
nothing more. The second his father’s cold corpse had been discovered,
he’d been given a permanent place amongst their ranks and that had been
that.
“He’s fucking him,” Odin’s harsh words pulled him out of his
thoughts and he glanced over at him with a slight frown, unsure of what
they were talking about.
“No way,” Vetle rested his arms on the table, “did he tell you that?”
“Yes,” he said. “And I believe him.”
“Shit.” The underboss sat back, shoulders drooping a bit. “If Isa is
sleeping with the Emperor, we’re screwed.”
“There’s word on the streets that he’s considering outlawing
prostitution,” Corbi told them. “And gambling.”
Odin snorted. “Good luck to him.”
Hunter had to agree. Sanctum wasn’t like other planets. Speaking of
window trappings. They had an operating government, but the whole
universe knew it was a smokescreen. The Brumal were the true rulers here,
and the people, though afraid of them, didn’t mind so much as long as it
meant they could always find a warm body or a place to blow off some
steam at night.
Liaand Norra wasn’t the only Red Light District on the globe that
was always bustling and alive. That was the major reason Hunter had
always avoided those areas of any town or city he’d hidden in. The same
could be said about Yellow Brick Road. Wren’s gambling sector was the
largest, sure, but he had branches run by different underlings throughout,
the same as Snow.
If the Emperor tried to make any of their business illegal, he’d get a
fight, and not from the Brumal itself but from the citizens of Sanctum. Isa
was no idiot. He had to know that fact already.
 “It’s a stall tactic,” Hunter surmised. “If he goes through with it, it’s
not because he thinks it’ll pass. He wants you and Wren on your toes.
Wants to shake you up. Wants to make a point.”
“What if he decides to have the Emperor order you to return all of
the business in his territory?” Vetle asked.
The Brumal ran the show, but so long as Isa Frost sat in Faraway
Mansion and continued to lead that section of the organization, he was the
one in total control. If he sided with the Emperor, he could move
mountains. Which almost begged the question, why hadn’t he already? The
second Odin had reappeared he could have done something if he’d had that
type of governmental power. Which meant…
“It’s new.” Hunter crossed his arms and rested back against the
windowsill once more. “Whatever he has going with the Emperor, it started
recently, at least, it can’t be longer than a year, two at most.”
“You think that’s why he’s choosing now to strike?” Vetle turned to
him, and any animosity or suspicion that had been on his face prior was
gone. He looked like he was taking Hunter seriously.
All that did was remind Hunter of the type of power Odin held.
Aside from a couple hundred or so members who’d been loyal to the Frost
family since before the merger between Isabel and Ander, many of those
who were now under Isa’s rule had been poached from the Snow Family
after Ander’s “accident” and Odin’s disappearance. While many had
returned to Odin’s side when he’d come back, others had decided to stick
by Isa, either due to their oaths or out of fear.
Sanctum wasn’t a very large planet in the grand scheme of things.
That, and their sheer lack of material wealth was what kept the rest of the
galaxy from bothering with them. Hell, they’d given the middle finger to
the Intergalactic Space Treaty and no one had batted an eyelash their way,
even knowing they were unprotected. The Brumal, as a whole, made up a
little over a fourth of the population, spread out across the entire planet,
with smaller pockets put in charge of other men here and there.
Within the city, which was the largest in the world and held a
population of only six thousand something, a thousand of that were
members of the Brumal.
Isa could have chosen to attack and risked an all-out bloodbath in
the streets. He most likely would have won, though there was no real way
to be sure since Odin and Wren would surely join forces. It would have
been a massive waste, however, and the end results, even if he was
successful, wouldn’t have been what he truly wanted.
“He doesn’t care about merging the Snow and Frost families again,”
Hunter said. “That’s never been a real interest of his. Not even when the
families were playing house and faking smiles.”
Odin’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t deny it.
“What does he care about?” Vetle propped an elbow on the table and
turned to better face him.
“He’s been pretty upfront about that,” Hunter stared at Odin, “hasn’t
he?”
“He’s a child who had his toy taken away,” he waved him off,
“nothing more.”
“I never said I believed his claims of love are real,” Hunter agreed.
“But that doesn’t mean Isa realizes that. What matters is he thinks he loves
you, he thinks you belong to him, and it eats him up inside knowing you’re
so close and yet he can’t do anything about it.”
“He tried to have him murdered,” Vetle reminded. “You’re the one
he hired to pull the trigger…”
“His mommy made him do it,” Odin drawled with a dark chuckle.
“According to him, in any case.”
“That’s most likely true.” It made sense to Hunter. “Isa always liked
the dynamic he had going between the two of you. The only thing he wasn’t
fond of was when your attention strayed elsewhere. You did your best to
stop that from happening, but—”
“Every person in this room remembers the longing glances passed
between the two of you back then?” Vetle cut off in a teasing note before he
seemed to realize it was just them and the twins, neither of whom had been
around at that time. “You know what I mean.”
“You said you’d noticed nothing,” Odin stated, quirking a brow.
“Wren reminded me of a few occasions I’d forgotten,” he said.
“Damn Wren always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Anyway,” Hunter was the one getting them back on track this time,
“we’re both idiots who didn’t notice how obvious we were being,
apparently, but if Wren and Vetle noticed, Isa had to have as well.”
“I always thought you had a thing for me, Huntsman,” Odin pointed
out.
“For the past ten years, you thought I’d been acting,” he said.
 “Well, you did shoot me. There were mixed signals.”
It was still a bit surprising that Odin believed him now. Sometimes,
Hunter was certain this was a long con, and one day he’d wake up to find a
blaster to his temple and Odin mocking him about how idiotic he’d been for
ever believing he’d let it go. He really would be stupid if thoughts like those
didn’t play through his mind on occasion. Odin was a Dominus. There was
more blood on his hands than could fill a swimming pool and Hunter would
be foolish to ever forget that.
But…Odin wasn’t the only one who’d been tormented by their
memories for that decade. Hunter had played back old memories himself,
sure that he was misremembering conversations or sweet gestures. Many
he’d even scrubbed from his mind entirely, as if thinking on them had hurt
and confused him too much for them to remain there.
“The ten-year mark wasn’t too long ago,” he forced himself to set
his personal stuff aside. “If I had to guess, that was the marker for Isa to
begin. He figured he’d given Odin enough time for the initial burn of
resentment and anger to dwindle. He must have started a fling with the
Emperor so he’d have some back up should he need to back you into a
corner. But then—”
“I showed up with you at the gala.” Odin blew out a breath and
momentarily closed his eyes.
“Yeah.” Hunter clucked his tongue. “I told you that was a bad idea.”
“How many more times will you remind me of that?”
“Until it gets boring, most likely.”
“He got angry, thinking he’d wasted all this time being patient only
for someone else to step in and receive that forgiveness he’d been yearning
for,” Vetle figured, whistling low. “Damn.”
“Do we believe that’s why he attacked Jita?” Loni glanced between
them all. “Because he was angry?”
“Throwing a tantrum,” Odin corrected, “but yes. After further
search into it, we’re pretty sure that’s the only logical motive. Jita wasn’t
working on anything that couldn’t survive without him there for a month,
and he purposefully was beaten to the brink of death, but not killed
outright.”
“How kind of him to leave him a fighting chance,” Vetle sneered.
“Too bad for him, I’m not kind,” Odin reassured him. “I won’t be
returning the favor when I come from him.”
 Loni swayed toward her sister, voice lowering, and asked, “Is that
logical? Attacking a man over something as petty as jealousy?”
Corbi shook her head and Loni nodded as if that was what she’d
thought.
“How?” Vetle was busy asking Odin. “You’re powerful, boss. But
Isa’s on another level with his mother’s juice coursing through his veins.”
“I’m already a lot stronger now than I was yesterday,” Odin said.
“And tomorrow, I’ll be stronger than I was today.”
Everyone there frowned except for Hunter.
Odin held up a hand before any of them could ask and shook his
head. “It’s a secret.”
Vetle opened his mouth, clearly about to argue with that but
something on Odin’s face stopped him and he ended up clenching his jaw
shut instead. Though it was obvious he wasn’t pleased about being left in
the dark.
“How much time do you think you need before you might be strong
enough to challenge him?” Corbi was the one who asked the other question
they were all thinking.
There was no real way of telling how powerful Odin needed to get
to stand a chance against Isa, but since he’d dealt with him before, in the
past and recently, he could hopefully come up with a close enough
estimation.
Hopefully.
Only he and Hunter knew what getting stronger entailed. After the
first week without skipping his blood, he’d need to test it out and see how
strong the boost he gained was. Then they could come up with a clearer
picture of how much longer they needed to keep up with it. Just like anyone
who gave blood, Hunter felt a little lightheaded afterward and needed to
relax and eat something. While his body reproduced blood cells faster than
the average person, this still wasn’t a setup that could go on forever. They’d
need to have a cutoff date in mind so he could make a full recovery.
Though, it was already assumed they’d need more than a single
week. Odin couldn’t make an official challenge until they were at least
mostly sure he could beat his step-brother. Neither of them would risk
jumping in headfirst, no matter how badly they wanted to put this to an end
and see Isa’s flesh peeling from his bones as he burned alive from the inside
out.
 “I’ll be able to update you on that in a couple of days,” Odin ended
up telling them. “Ideally though? By the end of the month.”
Hunter didn’t say anything to that. It could be wishful thinking or
not.
“What do you want us to do in the meantime?” Vetle ran a hand
through his dark hair.
“Keep up what we’ve been doing,” Odin ordered. “Extra security
everywhere, especially around important members like Jita. Everyone needs
to stay close, no one leaves the city for personal reasons until further notice.
We don’t think he’ll be crazy enough to start a bloody war in the streets, but
if there’s one thing I know about Isa, it’s that no one can ever really guess
what’s going on in his head. He could snap any minute for seemingly no
reason at all.”
“And Wren?”
Hunter cocked his head at this. “What do you have Wren doing?”
“He used to be close with one of the Emperor’s cousins,” Odin said.
“I asked that he get in touch with her and request an unofficial meeting
between the three of us and the Emperor.”
He frowned. “You want to meet with the Emperor of Sanctum? Just
you and Wren? Even knowing that he’s fucking Isa?”
“Sounds like I’m setting a trap for myself, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” he agreed. “So why bother?”
“It’s the only thing I can think of,” he admitted. “We need to find a
way to get ahead of this situation between him and Isa. He can’t be left with
that kind of control over the government.”
“Isa will have guessed already this is your plan.”
“I anticipate that as well,” Odin said. “No doubt Isa will be there
with the Emperor waiting for us.”
Hunter blinked, finally getting it. “You want an excuse for the four
of you to meet and force the issue out in the air.”
“There’s no way Isa is going to admit he’s playing around,” Odin
figured, “and this way both Wren and I get to say what we need to in front
of the Emperor and know he heard us.”
“And gage just how badly Isa has him addicted to his cock.” Vetle
hummed his approval.
“It’s something we’ll need to see firsthand.” Otherwise, all they had
was Isa’s word, and while they trusted he wouldn’t bother lying entirely,
there was always the chance the Emperor was more afraid of him than a
willing participant like he’d made it sound.
And if the Emperor was hot for Isa, well, then at least they’d know
for certain and could plan accordingly from there.
“Take backup,” Hunter found himself demanding, even though he
agreed this was a good plan. “Even if it’s a secret, private meeting. Don’t
trust them, either of them.”
“Worried about me already, Huntsman?” Odin grinned.
“Worried about my investment is more like,” he snorted, unable to
help himself. “You forced me back into this, Odin. You sure as hell can’t
leave me in it alone. Make sure nothing happens to you out there. Period.”
Vetle was gaping at him a little, but Hunter didn’t tear his
unwavering gaze off of Snow.
After a moment, Snow made a sound akin to a purr and said, “Yes,
my Little Huntsman, anything for you.”
A shiver raced down Hunter’s spine before he could help it, because
it’d been clear what Odin had wanted to call him just now. What he’d
meant. Little Whisper was written in his eyes as he watched him, that smirk
still curving his lips.
The reminder of what they were to each other had something coiling
in Hunter’s chest. He wished it was a mere physical reaction, but it wasn’t
like his dick was instantly hard or anything. No, instead his mind played
back memories of this morning, when the two of them had sat down for
breakfast and laughed over how Odin’s eggs had been overcooked. Stupid,
small events like that one, ones that a couple would experience together and
not a Brumal Dominus and his captive.
Damn it. Did Hunter really even actually think of Odin as his captor
anymore?
Was he?
It’d been months since his first arrival here, and yet it still felt like
things were moving too quickly.
Fortunately, Loni broke through the tension by clearing her throat.
“When do you expect to hear back from Wren?” she asked softly,
sending Hunter a quick sideways glance that had him thinking she’d known
and had been helping him out.
She was starting to grow on him.
 “Any time now,” Odin said, “so long as he isn’t too busy messing
around.”
The twins shared a secretive look but neither of them spoke.
Hunter was interested to find that he wanted in on whatever it was
they knew, and not because he thought for even a second it could be
something useful to him. Just because he was curious.
When was the last time he’d cared about the goings on in anyone
else’s life but his own? On the run, doing so might have cost him, so he’d
taken to avoiding making friends or relationships of any kind.
Vetle’s multi-slate dinged and he checked a message, slowly rising
to his feet. “We’ve got a new shipment arriving at the docks in an hour and
they’ve asked that I be there to receive it.”
“Still lingering problems after what happened with the
Southwicks?” Corbi glowered.
“Yeah,” he made a disgusted sound, “damn family. Should have
wiped them out sooner.”
“Do what you have to do,” Odin waved them all off, “we’ll dismiss
this for now.”
 CHAPTER 12:

Hunter didn’t have to be told that he wasn’t included in the

dismissal, staying put by the window while the others poured out of the
room.
Odin watched him while they waited, an enigmatic expression
written across his devilish face. He’d dyed his hair again. This time a deep
blue shade that made the silver jewelry lining his ears stand out even
brighter. The rings on his fingers dinged against the smooth surface of the
table as he strummed them against the wood, clearly pondering over
something and sorting out how he was going to word it.
“Should I sing a song in the meantime?” Hunter finally proposed,
making sure a thread of irritation slipped into his tone. “While you figure
out whatever it is you’re trying to figure out?”
“Do you remember—”
“Gods.” He rolled his eyes and tipped his head back against the cool
glass of the window, keeping it there as he stared up at the light gray
ceiling. “Can we not?”
“Why? Already tired of me, Huntsman?”
“What I’m tired of, Snow,” without moving his head his eyes slid
back to him, “is discussing things we cannot change. You’re the one who
said as much before, remember?”
“Doesn’t it make you nervous?” Odin tilted his chin. “Isn’t that why
you asked for exclusivity as one of your terms for the mating?”
For a second all he could do was frown, unsure what the man was
referring to before it finally hit him and he snorted. “You mean because you
were with Isa yet clearly into me back then? No. It doesn’t make me
nervous.”
“Are you lying?”
He considered it. “When I was nineteen, I hated seeing the two of
you together. When did you start fucking again?”
“We were sixteen the first time,” Odin answered unabashedly.
 “Right.” Hunter hadn’t been a part of the Brumal then, mostly only
around when his father needed him to stop by for something. Odin had only
just turned seventeen when his father had gotten Hunter to join.
Seventeen, and already a god among men. Already so full of
experience. Even though he was older, Hunter had been awed by him. By
how put-together and confident he’d been.
“Who was the one who didn’t want to think about the past again?”
Odin teased.
“I suppose it’s difficult not to when that’s where most of our
memories together are. Everything since…” They hadn’t exactly been filled
with sunshine and rainbows.
“You were very quiet,” Odin said, “back then. Soft-spoken. You’d
only really look at me when you thought no one was paying attention. I
used to go out of my way to pass you in the halls. I was already sleeping
with Isa but you’d caught my attention.”
He sighed, knowing where he was going with this now. “If you keep
pressing this issue, I might end up thinking it’s because you want to screw
other people. Already.” It’d only been a month since their mating, if he was
already bored with Hunter…
How did he feel about that possibility?
Angry. He scowled. “If you break your promise, I’ll break mine.”
“Is that a threat, Little Whisper?” Odin rose from his seat, stretching
to his full height, but he didn’t yet round the table. “You weren’t quiet
during this meeting. You seemed very much like you belonged. I missed
that mind of yours. The one that assessed every situation before stepping
foot into a room. If only it didn’t cause you to overthink so much, it’d be
my favorite thing about you.”
“What is your favorite thing?” Hunter asked and he may or may not
be holding his breath.
“I was young and rebellious. My father valued tradition and finery.
Sleeping with Isa started as a means to flick the proverbial finger at our
parents. We were attracted to one another, of course, but it was purely
physical. Purely a matter of convenience and circumstance. I dropped my
other lovers because it was annoying having to deal with Isa’s jealousy.
None of them mattered enough for me to argue with him over keeping
them.”
“Why are you—”
 “My favorite thing about you?” The corner of his mouth ticked up in
a smirk, but there was a darkness to it, almost as though he was mocking
himself with his next sentence. “You had feelings. Compassion. Curiosity.
Love. I was only a teen and yet jaded already. It’d been a long time since
I’d felt anything but bored and horny. I’m drawn to you now for the same
reasons I was then. You set your mind to something and that’s it. You’re
passionate and determined and capable of things like love. You still think
this is all about sex, about how badly I want to crawl under your skin and
consume you.”
“Ew,” his tone was flat, and he’d spoken mostly because it felt
awkward to say nothing in regard to that.
“It’s not just your body I want, Hunter,” Odin assured him. “And it’s
not just my body you want either.”
“Really?” He managed to come off sounding droll there, but it
didn’t matter. Odin could see through him. He was getting good at that.
“Do you know what I really want?” Odin waited but when he didn’t
reply continued on his own. “I want your love, Huntsman. I want you to
care about me and only me. I want to be your family.”
Hunter sucked in a sharp breath, but Snow wasn’t finished.
“I like when you show concern for my wellbeing and when you
participate in meetings like this, Brumal affairs, as if they’re your own. I
like seeing you walk around the club, and sleeping in our bed, or reading by
the fireplace. I like seeing you toss Loni over your shoulder on the training
mats and how you’ve come to care for her like a friend.”
He’d seen that too, had he?
“You’ve been watching me a little too closely, Snow,” Hunter
drawled.
“Don’t pretend this is a surprise. You knew I was. I’m always
paying attention to you, Huntsman. You’re always on my mind. I wonder if
you’ve eaten or if you’re getting enough rest. If the twins are being nice to
you or if some other asshole has tried to lay hands on you in one of the bars.
If you think about me too…”
Hunter exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “I must be insane.”
“Why?”
“Because even after all of these years, all it takes is a few prettily
strung-together words from you and my heart is skipping a beat like I’m
nineteen and inexperienced all over again. I hate it.”
 “Why?” Odin repeated.
“It makes me feel weak.” He closed his eyes. “Pathetic.”
“Falling for your captor is probably confusing.”
“You’re much more than a captor to me. You always have been.”
“I’m your Shout.”
He hummed in disagreement. “Even before then. Before I knew
what I was and what that could mean when it came to you and our
relationship. I had a crush, but it was more than that. You embodied
everything I knew I’d never be able to have. Everything I could never
achieve. Wealth, status, the comfort of knowing you’d never have to work
like a dog for anyone else just to get by.”
“We wanted what the other had it seems.” The sound of his clothes
rustling as he moved closer reached Hunter’s ears, and then Odin was
standing in front of him, easing his way between his spread thighs, setting
his hands on the windowsill at either side of his hips. “Tit for tat, that’s
what you said, wasn’t it? I’ll give you want you longed for. Safety, security,
power. In return, you give me what I’ve always wanted too.”
Hunter finally opened his eyes, locking gazes with the other man.
“Which is?”
“Love.” Odin took his chin between two fingers, keeping his head
tipped up toward him. “I want you to love me.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Snow.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“You can’t force something like love.”
“Can’t I?”
“Odin.”
“Are you opposed?”
“I—” This was stupid. “I can’t believe we’re having this
conversation. What happened to you not being sure you’re even capable of
loving? Do you expect me to willingly enter a one-sided crush again?”
“I only want to know if it’s possible,” he explained.
“Is it possible for you?” Hunter stubbornly held his ground. “Figure
that out first, then get back to me.”
“You’ll have an answer for me then?”
“Yeah.”
“And Isa Frost?”
 “What about him?” Hunter snorted. “You want him dead. I want him
dead. I’m not worried you’re going to fuck him, Snow. If that was on the
table, you would have accepted his offer the first time and we wouldn’t be
here having this conversation. Do I feel threatened when I think about how
you were with him yet apparently hot for me? That’s definitely a sort of
form of cheating, but honestly? No. No, I don’t. Because I’m not Isa Frost. I
won’t throw a tantrum or make another person pay for your mistake. If you
cheat on me, it's you who will pay the price. Not them. As far as fucking
anyone else goes, I stand by my first response. If you do it, I’ll do it. I’m
sure it’ll be easy enough to find a stranger in this place who’ll—”
Odin silenced him with a kiss, brutal and messy.
Things would have escalated if Hunter hadn’t pressed a palm to his
stomach and eased him off.
“There are still important matters to discuss,” he reminded.
“Such as?” Odin kissed him again, lightly, playfully. “The only
important thing I see here is you.”
“This meeting with the Emperor,” Hunter said, “how confident are
you it’ll work in our favor?”
He sighed, pulling back and setting his hands on the windowsill
once more as if touching Hunter made it impossible for him to concentrate.
“Not very. It’s fifty-fifty. Either Altz has fallen for Isa, or he’s terrified of
him and going along out of fear. If it’s the latter, I might be able to make
him an offer. If it’s the first…”
“And Isa will be with him,” Hunter pointed out.
“Most likely. There’s always the chance the Emperor won’t tell him,
but that’s risky, and even if it’s fear governing his actions, I don’t see him
being bold enough to take that chance. If Isa found out afterward, he’d
punish him. I’ve met Altz before. He’s a meek and cowardly man. Greedy
for wealth and his own personal safety, nothing else.”
“What if Isa decides to challenge you at this meeting? In front of the
Emperor?”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Odin glanced away. “If he does I’ll have to comply.”
“You won’t be strong enough.”
“That’s unclear. Wren has yet to get back to me. We could end up
waiting a while.”
 “You won’t be strong enough,” Hunter insisted. “Call it a hunch or
whatever you’d like. The second Isa finds out that you’re trying to meet
with the Emperor he’ll make sure it happens sooner rather than later. He has
poor impulse control. Curiosity will get the best of him.”
Suddenly, Odin’s eyes narrowed.
“Bring me with you,” Hunter blurted, knowing he’d already figured
out where he was going with this. “If it comes down to a challenge, at least
I’ll be there and you can drink from me. Maybe that boost will be enough to
—”
“No.” Odin straightened, putting distance between them.
“At least consider it—”
“No. That’s final.” He turned to go but Hunter latched onto his
wrist, holding him firm.
“If Isa beats you, it’ll all be over. We’ll lose everything, Snow.”
Isa wouldn’t kill him, but he might cripple him. Make it so Odin
could never escape him again. He’d overtake him in front of the Emperor
and Wren as witnesses and by Brumal law that meant he’d be able to claim
control over the Snow Family branch as well. He’d become invincible, and
all of their plans of revenge would go right down the drain.
“I won’t let him discover what you are,” Odin told him. “I can’t. If
he knew, he’d do everything in his power to steal you and use you. You
thought what happened at the Faraway Mansion was painful? That’s
nothing compared to what he’ll do to you if he ever catches you again. No,
Hunter. It isn’t safe enough for you yet outside of Club Cherry. Think of
how many times he’s already walked in here even.”
“That’s—”
“Do you want to die?” he snapped.
“Of course not,” Hunter growled back, just as frustrated. “But if Isa
gets you I lose it all anyway. Don’t you see that?”
Odin softened some, stepping close once more. He cupped his face,
stroking his thumb beneath his left eye. “Have some faith in me, Little
Whisper. I won’t fall that easily.”
“Promise you’ll stall,” Hunter said, realizing there was no way of
convincing him not to go through with this. “If he challenges you, promise
you’ll make an excuse or do whatever you have to in order to put it off until
you can reach me first. You have to drink before. That’s non-negotiable.”
 He chuckled. “Careful, Huntsman, you’re growing cocky, thinking
you can make demands now.”
“I can and I am,” he stated. “I meant what I said before. You pulled
me back into this. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me leave when I wanted
to. Now I’m here, and I want to be and you’re going to have to deal with the
consequences of that. This,” he motioned between them with a finger, “only
works if I’m willing.”
For a moment he was silent, staring Hunter down as if searching for
the truth, trying to discover if he was being honest or bluffing. When
Hunter remained unflinching even under his scrutiny, he sighed. “All right.
I’ll stall.”
“Even if it bruises your ego or damages your delicate pride,” Hunter
added.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Even if. Happy now?”
“Mostly.”
Odin frowned.
“I’m starving.” Hunter patted him on the shoulder and jumped off
the windowsill, heading around him for the door. He’d only made it five or
so steps before the other man was on him, spinning him around and pinning
him across the table.
Odin forced his legs up around his torso and leaned over him, warm
breath ghosting across the sensitive flesh of Hunter’s throat as he breathed
him in deeply and exhaled. “What a coincidence. I also happen to be
famished.”
Hunter opened his mouth to protest, but then Odin’s tongue was
stroking in deep, his teeth nipping at his bottom lip and all thoughts of food
fled from his mind.
He clutched Snow close and tried to ignore the feeling of dread that
crept at the edges of his mind about this meeting.
 CHAPTER 13:

As Hunter had predicted, it didn’t take Wren long to hear back from
his contact. In less than a week, he found himself sitting at the long bar in
the main area of the club. Alone.
Loni was somewhere nearby, of course, but since training had been
going well, she’d taken to giving him more space—no doubt at Odin’s
agreement—and had gotten better about not hovering. She’d been closer
earlier, but then Mr. Sun had come around and she’d excused herself, saying
Hunter had been in good hands.
Not that Mr. Sun, the young, poised man who co-managed the club
with Madam Moon seemed like the type who could hold his own in a fight.
Let alone defend Hunter if it came to one. No doubt, it’d be the other way
around.
Most likely she’d assumed it’d meant that if anything did happen,
there’d be another person there to sound the alarms. And she would have
been correct about that, if Sun hadn’t received a call on his multi-slate and
wandered off, leaving Hunter alone with his thoughts and his third glass of
cide.
The drink was bitter, more so than his usual liking, but he was in a
mood and wanted something that would keep him focused yet distract him
from the raging anxiety he felt. He hadn’t even bothered trying to convince
Odin to take him with him again, knowing it was futile, but he’d made him
bleed him just before, in case.
He hated that it was all he could do in this situation. Hated that he
was still trapped, despite the change in his circumstances.
Fortunately, Odin hadn’t brought up the word love again either.
Considering how badly that had thrown Hunter off, he was grateful for it.
All week he’d been wondering if they were both losing their minds. Was it
brainwashing? He was growing accustomed to being cared for and not
having to worry about where or if he’d get his next meal, and Odin…
Odin liked drinking his blood.
 But it was always Hunter who initiated. Always him who offered.
Despite the fact the Shout got blissed out every time he so much as got a
sip, he’d never once asked for Hunter to bleed. Hadn’t crossed that line.
Was it because he knew Hunter would give it up anyway?
He rubbed at his temples and growled at himself. He was doing it
again. Overthinking. What did it matter? In the long run, it changed nothing
between them. He’d already made up his mind and the mating had already
taken place. Hell, it’d been over a month since, and here he was, still
torturing himself over what that meant. Where that left them both standing.
Odin had been open about what he wanted with his words but,
admittedly, Hunter was still unsure how much of that he should believe. Of
course he’d want Hunter to fall for him. So long as he was wrapped around
Snow’s finger, he’d continue putting out, in more ways than one.
He hated second-guessing every little detail, and he wasn’t sure
which of them was to blame for it. Him, for knowing who and what Odin
Snow was and falling for him anyway? Or Odin for all the shit he’d put him
through that made him doubt? When Hunter closed his eyes, he could still
picture the bitterness in Odin’s gaze that first night he’d woken in the red
room upstairs.
His hatred hadn’t been faked. He’d truly blamed Hunter for
everything that had happened to him.
Rumor on the street was that Ander Snow had been injured in an
argument with his wife, but Hunter knew the true story. It hadn’t been in the
midst of a fight, or even over dinner like was said. Factually, no one had
seen it actually take place, but everyone who’d been in the Faraway
Mansion that day knew without a shadow of a doubt what had happened.
Ander Snow had taken a tumble down the stairs.
Down. The. Stairs.
Of all things.
And not just any stairs, stairs in a home he’d literally spent his entire
life in from birth on. He’d known every dip and crack and crease in that
place like the back of his hand, yet he’d somehow slipped on a step? The
Snow Dominus, the head of the main family of the Brumal?
Yeah right.
Isabel Frost had supposedly been down the hall and heard the
commotion. She’d been standing at the top of the steps when the guards had
arrived, feigning ignorance.
 They all knew she’d pushed him.
For him to have trusted her at his back that much…For years…
Shouts had mercurial natures brought on by the swell of power
within them. It was common for them to lose their cool or alter their
temperament at the drop of a hat. Ander had known this since he’d been one
himself, and yet he’d fallen for Isabel Frost anyway.
Hunter didn’t stand a chance against Shout magic if Odin ever chose
to turn against him.
Although, even when he had been against him, Hunter was forced to
acknowledge he hadn’t harmed him. At least, not physically, aside from the
time he’d pushed against his broken ribs. Mentally was another story, but
they’d both played mind games and really, Hunter was too exhausted to
bother drudging up those old demons again.
He sipped at his drink and thought about his plans for after. If they
were successful in ridding the world of Isa Frost, what then? Would he stay
with Odin and abide by their mating, or would he run?
Without the fear of the Frost Brumal out there with orders to kill
him he’d have better chances—No. No, he wouldn’t. Odin would never let
him go, despite all the sweet words he’d been spilling and plying Hunter
with these past weeks. If Hunter ever dared to run, Snow would chase him
down.
And he wouldn’t like the consequences.
He shuddered. Why was it, even knowing that much, Hunter still
couldn’t stomach the idea of never seeing the other man again?
He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t lie, that he’d be honest about his
own emotions, at least in private. While it might not yet be love, Hunter had
feelings for Odin. Strong ones. All consuming ones.
Odin wouldn’t let him leave, but honestly? Hunter didn’t think he’d
let him go either.
Which meant setting aside their twisted past and forgetting all about
how wrong it was for him to want this. Who cared anyway? Let the
judgment come if it did. If someone pointed out how messed up he was to
want for his captor he’d simply have to grin and bear it. That’s what it
meant to have a choice, after all.
Hunter had chosen this. He’d deal with the consequences.
So, he wanted Odin Snow and he wanted to be with him. He wanted
to honor the mating and possibly even grow to be happy with the man. To
be a family. That’s what Odin had said. He wanted them to be family. That
was something both of them had been lacking for a really long time, and
Hunter wasn’t even sure he knew what that meant anymore, but…
It didn’t sound half bad.
“You’ve always had a problem concealing your thoughts, brother.”
Someone sat down next to him, close enough that their shoulders bumped.
She was at least a head shorter, but her long dark hair concealed most of her
features even as she motioned to the bartender to get her a drink. There was
nothing particularly outstanding about the way she dressed, in a black
jacket and jeans, but her voice…
Hunter would never forget that voice. It haunted half of his dreams.
“M—”
She shushed him before he could get her name off his lips, still not
facing him. “Keep it down unless you want us to be caught.”
“I don’t understand,” he struggled for words, his mind blanking as
his heart began to pound in his chest. “Am I asleep? I swear I was awake.”
“You’re awake,” she confirmed, sipping lightly at some blue drink
that was set before her.
He hadn’t even heard her place her order. Had been too shocked.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” he blurted in a hushed whisper.
“Don’t sound so elated that I’m not,” she drawled and he
immediately back peddled.
“No, this is—” He tried again. “Where have you been all this time?
Does anyone else know?” Recalling where they were he turned to glance
over his shoulder, searching for anyone who might be paying them
attention. If Loni had returned from wherever she’d gone though, he
couldn’t see her. That didn’t necessarily mean anything but… “It isn’t safe
here. Frost could have spies and if they see you—”
A low beep cut him off and he glanced down to find her subtly
pressing something against the metal bracelet locked to his wrist. A small
red light flickered once before the device was unlatched.
His eyes went wide. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you out of here,” she said as if that should be obvious.
“Now, let’s hurry before someone notices. I set a distraction, but it won’t
last for much longer.”
“What?” He was struggling to follow what was going on. “I can’t
leave.” He didn’t want to. “Meg—”
 “I told you not to say my name.” She got off the stool casually, like
she hadn’t just shown up like a phantom and blown up his entire reality
with her mere existence. “Follow me, I have a safe house nearby, all we
have to do is make it out of here without drawing attention.”
He grabbed onto her arm when she went to move past him, heading
toward one of the branching hallways. “Wait.”
“There’s no time. Come or stay, brother. I risked a lot showing up
here, but I’m not about to get caught because you can’t make up your
mind.” She yanked her arm free. “You want answers? I’ll give them to you.
But not here. Not around them.”
She’d always hated the Brumal, and after everything she must have
gone through, it was no wonder that hatred had stuck with her.
Hunter watched for a second as she walked away, only snapping out
of it when she turned the corner and disappeared left down the hall. Then he
got to his feet but…he hesitated. Glancing down at the bracelet on his wrist
he frowned. He’d promised Odin he wouldn’t run.
This wasn’t running though. It wasn’t. Knowing exactly where the
hidden security camera was located behind the bar, Hunter made sure to
look directly at it. He removed the bracelet but twirled it in his hand a
moment, sure that the camera could catch sight of it as well. Then he
shoved it into the inner pocket of his jacket and stepped back away from the
bar.
He let his gaze linger a moment longer, trying to convey everything
he was thinking with his eyes alone, hoping that, if Odin returned before he
did, he’d see the footage and understand.
Hunter wasn’t running. But there was no way he could let his sister
—his alive sister—leave here without him. He couldn’t blow what may be
the only chance he’d ever have to see her again and find out what had
actually happened to her all those years ago.
He’d follow her, and he’d get answers, and then he’d either
convince her to come back here with him or he’d figure out where she was
staying and he’d return alone. Either way, he would be coming back.
Somehow, someway, Club Cherry had become more than a cage to
him. It was his home.
He kept expecting to be stopped as he slowly made his way toward
the exit Meg had taken, keeping his shoulders relaxed and his expression
easy so that anyone who did glance his way didn’t think twice about him.
 She was waiting for him when he turned down the hall, standing in
front of the side exit that mostly went unused by anyone except workers
taking out the trash. No one else was around, but the security camera over
the door was more obvious here, unhidden and clearly aimed their way. If
she cared, she didn’t show it.
Meg shoved the heavy metal open and slipped outside into the night.
Hunter hesitated again, just beneath the arch, head tipped back to
stare at the camera. With any luck, he’d be back here long before Odin
finished with his meeting and then he’d explain himself to him before he
even knew he’d been missing.
“Coming or not, brother?” Meg called a few feet away, standing on
the side of the street with her hands in her jacket pocket. She was finally
facing him and he got a good look at her, at the familiar dark slope of her
brow and the fine lines at the corner of her eyes that hadn’t been there
before. Like him, she’d aged, and like him, she’d probably become
someone else, a different person to the one he’d carried around in his head
all this time.
He needed to know who this new Meg was. Needed to know if he’d
abandoned her when he’d thought she was dead.
Needed to know that she was all right.
Odin would understand. And if he didn’t right away, Hunter would
make him. Things were different between them now, and though he’d
remained in the club, it’d been because he’d chosen to. This, leaving, was
also a choice.
And so was the plan to come back.
He glanced up at the camera and mouthed the words, just in case,
then, with one final inhale, Hunter Thorn stepped from beneath the
threshold and left Club Cherry behind.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this book please consider
leaving a review!
Don’t Let Me Go, the third and final installment of this trilogy
will be available soon! For now, keep reading for the first part of I Will
Never Tell, a Whisper in the Dark short story following Wren Shen,
King of the Den.
 I WILL NEVER TELL, PART 1
(A Whisper in the Dark Short Story)
 CHAPTER 1:

Wren was bored.

Which was saying a lot, considering there was currently a warm
mouth wrapped around his cock. He threaded his fingers into the man’s red
hair, guiding him faster, but even that didn’t help any. The disinterest
lingered and everyone knew there were few things more dangerous than a
bored Dominus. Even worse when that Dominus happened to also be a
Shout.
Tilting his head, Wren watched as some of the strands in his hold
turned to gold, the brilliant shine seeping into the strands to coat the red.
They became hard and brittle to the touch, but that didn’t stop him from
pushing more of his power forward until a good chunk of hair had been
altered.
Having grown up in a family that coveted wealth, seeing gold
usually put him in a better mood, and for a brief second, he considered
changing the man’s entire head before he ended up sighing and releasing
him instead.
“Get off,” he ordered blandly. He was propped up against the wall in
one of the bathrooms, not exactly an elegant location but a place he’d
figured would do for a quick blow job. Too bad the man he’d chosen wasn’t
very skilled in that department.
Watching paint dry would be more fun than feeling this man’s
tongue struggle to figure out where to lick him.
He should have taken Odin’s offer earlier about setting up with one
of his best. Instead, he’d gone on the hunt and had clearly chosen poorly.
Not a first for him, admittedly, but a rare occurrence yet.
“Off,” he repeated more sternly this time, gripping the man’s hair
once more to forcefully remove him.
The man gurgled and practically choked as he was ripped off Wren’s
only semi-hard cock. He blinked tear-filled eyes up at him, the confusion
plainly written there. He’d obviously thought he’d been doing a good job.
Idiot.
 “This your first time?” Wren asked, inspecting the guy more closely.
He was pretty with ginger hair—well, mostly, except for the new
gold patch courtesy of Wren and his impatience—and milky white skin that
gleamed a faint pink in the dim red lighting of the bathroom. Club Cherry
was known for its usage of lighting. Wren hadn’t bothered asking for the
other guy’s name, but he was well dressed in a suit, though that hadn’t
stopped him from dropping to his knees on the bathroom tile at one flick of
the wrist from Wren.
He’d been eager to get his lips wrapped around Wren’s dick, in fact,
and that eagerness had spurred Wren’s own lust.
He’d been tricked.
“Wh-What?” the man stuttered and Wren rolled his eyes.
“Sucking cock,” he reiterated. “First time? I don’t like being lied
to.”
“No,” he shook his head, wincing when that caused the fingers in
his hair to tug painfully. “No, it’s not. I’ve been with a lot of guys, I swear.”
He snorted. “I don’t need to know you’re sexual history, just trying
to figure out why you’re so terrible with your tongue.”
Wren had brought a couple of his soldiers with him to the club but
had set them loose the second they’d walked through the doors, since he’d
come to speak privately with Odin about business matters. Of course, that
hadn’t lasted nearly as long as he’d assumed. The Snow Dominus had cut
their time together short, no doubt to make his way back to Hunter Thorn.
The two of them were…interesting, and for a split second, Wren
considered whether or not he should “accidentally” find himself on the third
floor, a section of the club that was off-limits to anyone but Odin
personally. It’d been a while since he’d last met with Hunter himself, and he
was curious to see how much the other man had changed in all this time.
Something had to have happened for Odin to suddenly drop his
plans for revenge against Hunter, that was for certain. Though, no matter
how frequently Wren pressed him for answers, Odin refused to give them.
All that did was make him want to know even more.
Still, Wren didn’t have a death wish, and though he was also a Shout
and the head of the Hail family, his powers were nothing in comparison to
Odin Snow. Besides, how would he fight with his particular gift anyway?
Turn a candle into gold and chuck it at the man? Hope for a
headshot?
 He snorted as he pictured it, only then recalling the man on his
knees still before him. With another roll of his eyes, he went to shove the
guy away when the sound of footsteps reached his ears.
Wren turned his head toward the door just in time to see Sun come
in.
Mr. Sun, or Sun, was the co-manager of Club Cherry, and unlike
Madam Moon, he was the quiet type. Where she’d gossip with the wind if
given the chance, Sun tended to keep to himself. Wren could count on one
hand the number of times he’d heard him speak even.
Sun faltered just within the doorway, eyes widening on the scene
before him. But instead of immediately looking away, the man seemed to
freeze, his mouth dropping open slightly as his chest constricted on a sharp
inhale. He was dressed for work, the red trousers and the tight vest over his
dress shirt a dark shade of crimson that reminded Wren of day-old blood.
He wasn’t wearing a pin, though, Wren already knew as much since he’d
never seen him in one.
He’d always thought that was a pity. Sun was gorgeous and more
than his type. But there was a strict rule at Club Cherry that only the
workers there for company and sex work were allowed to be propositioned.
Men and women wore Odin’s symbol pinned to their chests if that was the
case, letting customers easily see that they were available.
Like his namesake, Sun’s hair was as golden as the orb in the sky,
glossy and combed so perfectly not a single strand was out of place.
Nothing about him was ever out of place. He was always the perfect
picture of immaculate.
It made Wren want to mess him up.
Alas, Sun also hadn’t ever looked at someone twice, so Wren wasn’t
even sure he was interested in having a sexual partner. Perhaps he wasn’t.
This was why he was so surprised when he noticed the way Sun’s
nostrils flared and he shifted on his feet. The move was almost
imperceptible, clearly done without thought, but Wren had been watching
closely enough to catch it and now his interest was piqued.
He wasn’t the only one either. Sun had yet to look away. Wren had
thought for sure if the man walked in on scenes like this he’d blush, excuse
himself, and vacate immediately. This was a brothel, after all, and this
couldn’t be the first time he’d encountered two people getting it on outside
of one of the designated rooms.
 Actually, wasn’t Sun supposed to be scolding them and informing
them that they had to book one of those cushy private rooms? It was his job
as the manager to maintain order and uphold the rules, which Wren was in
here currently breaking.
Interesting times two.
With one hard push, Wren shoved the guy away from him, sending
him sprawling on his back. Not that he noticed, his attention still fully
riveted on Sun.
“Get out,” Wren ordered, and when Sun, without breaking eye
contact with the man on the ground, slid a step back he clicked his tongue.
“Oh no, not you, Sunshine.”
The random nickname seemed to snap Sun out of it and he tore his
gaze off the guy who was now scrambling to get off the floor and frowned
over at Wren.
The man rushed past Sun, practically shoving him out of the way in
his haste.
Sun, for his worth, recovered quickly, catching himself on the wall
and straightening to his full height within a second. All at once, he returned
to his typical prim and proper self, even going so far as to clear his throat.
“Forgive me, Mr. Shen, I didn’t realize the bathrooms were being
occupied.”
He clicked his tongue a second time and turned to prop his shoulder
against the wall he hadn’t moved away from. Another thing he didn’t bother
doing was tucking his very hard cock away.
Hmm. When had he gone full mast?
Had it been when Sun had walked in on them?
“Go on,” he teased, grinning when it became obvious that Sun was
doing his damndest not to look down, “scold me. You know you want to.”
It really seemed like he struggled to hold himself back before
finally, “Fraternizing outside of an assigned room is against club policy, Mr.
Shen.”
“I’m aware of the rules.”
“Then I’ll have to ask that you keep to them from here on out.”
“Or?” Wren quirked a brow, curious to see how the man was going
to reply to being goaded.
Sun frowned. “Or?”
 He hummed. “Usually you follow your demand up with a threat,
Sunshine. Go ahead, try it. Give me your worst.”
Sun continued to stare at him, perplexed. “Mr. Shen, I would
appreciate it if you would call me by my appropriate name.”
“Make me.” Wren hooked his right thumb into one of the pant loops
at his side, the move inadvertently drawing Sun’s attention there. Right
where he wanted it. His grin turned wolfish and he let out a low whistle as
soon as the other man turned red. “What’s wrong? See something you like,
Sunshine?”
He was being an asshole on purpose.
It was the most fun he’d had in weeks. Possibly even months.
As soon as he’d found Hunter Thorn for Odin, his friend had all but
left him on read. If Wren wanted to see him, he had to crawl here and
initiate which was annoying as all hell. It’d left him restless, and not even
preparing to take down Isa Frost was enough to keep his mind from
wandering and that old habit of staring off into space from returning.
Which was dangerous for a man in his position. The second you
allowed yourself to get distracted, to drop your guard, you left yourself
open for attack.
Wren hadn’t worked his ass off to gain this position just to hand it
over to some idiot who’d luck out and get the jump on him. Which meant
he needed to find an outlet for all this pent-up nonsense. Something he
could pour all his focus into.
Sun gulped, the sound loud enough to be heard even from where
Wren stood almost ten feet away and he watched the man’s Adam’s apple
bob with the motion. He had a long neck, the perfect size for wrapping his
entire hand around…
Ding ding ding. He had a winner.
“Don’t even think about it,” Wren warned when Sun retreated yet
another step, even knowing he was about to be blatantly ignored.
Sure enough, Sun twirled on his heels and tried bolting, but Wren
was faster, catching him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back in
from the hallway.
He tugged the door shut for good measure and flicked the lock
before slamming Sun’s front up against it. His fingers trailed up the other
man’s sides as he moved in close enough to block him in, keeping him
trapped between him and the only exit.
 “Mr. Shen, what do you think you are doing?” Sun asked, and he
tried so hard to keep his voice from shaking.
“Showing you,” Wren told him in the most innocent tone he could
muster. “This is how you make a threat, Sunshine, and this,” he wrapped an
arm around his waist and tugged him back hard enough it caused Sun to
gasp, “is how you make good on it.”
“Let me go,” his hands dropped to Wren’s arm but he didn’t even try
to pry him off, “if Mr. Snow hears about this—”
“How mad do you think he’ll be, exactly?” Wren brushed the tip of
his nose against the curve of his left ear, laughing when Sun immediately
pulled away from the touch.
“This is sexual assault,” he informed him tightly.
“Want me to let you go?”
“Of course I do!” Sun said.
Wren pretended to consider it. “Nah. Don’t want to.”
Sun floundered for a moment, at a loss for words before, “Mr.
Shen.”
“I think we’re better acquainted than that,” Wren told him. “You
now know what my dick feels like, after all.” To help make his point, he
pushed a little more against the plush globe of Sun’s ass. “You’re the one
who came in here, interrupted, and chased my perfectly reasonable partner
away.”
“You ordered him to leave!”
“Semantics.”
“Mr. Shen,” Sun inhaled slowly as if preparing himself, “you are
going to let me go this instant.”
“Or?”
“Or I’m going to go straight to Odin as soon as you do and tell him
everything. The security footage outside would have picked up you and me
both coming in here and will be more than enough to corroborate my story.
He’ll believe me.”
Wren made a sound of approval. “Well done, Sunshine, looks like
someone’s a fast learner. I like that.”
“So,” he swallowed again and Wren was a little bummed he was
standing behind him now and couldn’t see the movement of his throat as he
did, “you’ll release me now?”
 “It was a very good threat,” he said, “but now onto lesson number
two. What do you do when the person you’re threatening serves you back?”
“What—”
“It’s your aunt, right? The one who’s sick. The reason you come in
here every day even though you don’t have any interest in what the club has
to offer?”
“My shift starts at six pm,” Sun replied coolly, “actually, and I stay
until sunrise. My days are spent at home.”
“Taking care of your aunt.”
“Yes.”
“What’s she got?” Wren gentled the arm he had around him, not
enough that Sun could pull away, but enough that he could easily put a
couple of centimeters between them if he so wished.
Either the man didn’t realize or he didn’t want to though, because he
remained exactly where he was, with his back pressed firmly to Wren’s
front. Those plump cheeks cradling his cock in a way that felt better than
having that redhead’s entire mouth on him had felt.
Sun seemed to conclude that it wouldn’t hurt any telling him and
after a moment said, “Oud.”
Yikes. That was lethal. All the best medicine in the galaxy couldn’t
fix that.
“I’m sorry,” Wren said and was only a little bit surprised that he
meant it. He had nothing against the guy or his sick aunt though. And oud,
it was the type of illness that ate away at a person, slowly, unforgivingly. “I
take it Odin helps pay the medical bills in exchange for you working here?”
“She’s comfortable and she gets to go knowing I’m set for life,” Sun
told him. “We’re all each other have. Have been for a long time now.”
“No parents?”
“Died in a hovercar accident when I was a baby.”
“Ouch.”
“What?” Sun stated. “Dead parents don’t make the ‘I’m sorry’ cut?”
Wren tilted his head, a thrill racing through him at the sudden
boldness. “If you want me to say it I will.”
“That’s not—” Sun blew out a breath. “Please stop now, Mr. Shen.
I’m on the clock and if anyone notices I’m gone—”
“They’ll go to Odin?” He tsked. “That one’s not as good. You’ve got
to remember who you’re delivering your threats to, Sunshine. Everyone is
different and should be treated as such. For example, I know this place
personally. And I know that even if they can’t find you right away, they’ll
just assume you’re in another part of the building. This place is massive,
after all, and you manage it all on your own when it’s your shift, don’t
you?”
The question was rhetorical.
“Anyway, where we were? Right. Lesson two.”
“You can’t do anything to my aunt,” Sun said, though there was a
thread of fear in his voice now that Wren found he wasn’t a fan of.
In fact, it killed some of the buzz he was feeling and he immediately
wanted to get that back. “Hey, relax, I don’t make it a habit of going around
torturing old ladies. I’m only suggesting you do something extra nice for
her, that’s all.”
Sun was quiet for a long moment. “What?”
“I know Odin pays you well, and you just confirmed he takes care
of her bills, but there’s got to be something she’s always wanted that’s just
out of your price range, right?” Everyone had something they yearned for,
something they wished they could buy and own. People were obvious like
that. Predictable. Odin was always making fun of him for being into shiny
baubles, but Wren wasn’t the only one. He was just the most open about it.
And why shouldn’t he be?
“You know what I am,” he trailed a finger lightly down Sun’s spine
as he spoke, “don’t you?”
He shivered at the contact but again, didn’t pull away. “Dominus.”
“Nope, not that one, come on, Sunshine, use that sparkling mind of
yours.”
Another gulp. “Shout.”
“Ding ding. And what do I do?” Most Shouts manipulated the
elements. Boring things like making ice or fire or the ability to grow plants.
All stuff that was good in a fight but useless on its own. Useless in a world
like theirs.
Everything Wren had he’d paid for in full, including the ground they
were standing on—although, Odin had paid him back five times what he’d
invested in order to allow the Snow family head to build this place.
“Gold,” Sun finally answered. “You can turn anything into gold.”
“What is it?” He pressed his lips against the curve of Sun’s ear
again. “What’s the thing your aunt wants but you can’t afford? I bet you’ve
been saving up for it, haven’t you, Sunshine? You seem like the type.”
The type who’d be willing to work here for Odin Snow but avoided
the gambling district like the plague. Wren had never seen Sun so much as
place a single toe on the Yellow Brick Road. Not that he’d been watching.
Much.
Admittedly, his fascination with the other man had started some
time ago, though he’d been ignoring it because, again, Odin’s damn rules.
Honestly, even he didn’t know what’d come over him tonight to completely
and totally toss all caution to the wind and do this, but he wasn’t regretting
it.
Yet, anyway.
Maybe come morning if Sun run his mouth to his boss he would.
If that did happen, at least it’d be a change of pace. Something new
and interesting.
“Come on,” Wren rested his chin on the man’s left shoulder, “you
may as well tell me, you’ve already lost.”
“What?”
He rested his free arm over Sun’s other shoulder and pointed down,
smirking when the man tipped his gaze after the motion and sucked in a
breath at what he saw.
“You’re doing a brilliant job with keeping your voice even,” Wren
applauded him, “but the rest of your body didn’t seem to get the memo.
So,” he nuzzled against that long, perfect throat of his coaxingly, “what do
you say, Sunshine? Want a get-rich-quick scheme that’s sure to blow your…
mind?”
 CHAPTER 2:

What the actual fuck was going on here.

And what the fuck was wrong with him?!
Sun clenched his teeth together to keep himself from swearing out
loud, settling instead for the string of curses he let off in his head. Even
given the situation—whatever the ever-loving hell that was—he couldn’t
lose his composure, not in front of a member of the Brumal. A Dominus of
the Brumal at that.
Wren Shen was dangerous, all sleek and edgy. Dirty, was the first
word that always came to mind when Sun thought of him, though not in a
bad way, like it would be if he applied it to anyone else. His clothes were
always torn—on purpose—his piercing eyes always lined with kohl, and
there was always this movement to his steps that could only be considered
swagger. Yet everything on him was top quality, those ripped shirts he
favored? Worth more than a month’s worth of Sun’s paychecks.
Sun used to roll his eyes at people like Wren. People who clearly
thought they were bigger and badder than everyone around them. That they
could do and say whatever they wanted and get away with it, while the rest
of society was expected to bow their heads and follow the rules like the
good little herd that they were.
Only, Wren actually was and could do all of those things. He was
one of the three kings of Sanctum, above even the Emperor when one read
between the lines.
And Sun liked to read. Frequently and thoroughly.
Which was how he’d known the very second he’d walked in here
that he was well and truly screwed.
It was hardly the first time he’d encountered a customer breaking
that particular rule. People got carried away, often dropping their pants
wherever they stood, completely uncaring about who saw what parts bared
or sticking into where. Sun handled those situations with flying colors, but
for some reason, the moment he’d realized who he’d walked in on this time
he’d gotten all choked up and had been barely able to remember to breathe,
let alone that he was meant to be in charge here.
In that moment of weakness, Wren had pounced.
Wren was so very good at taking advantage of the unsuspecting. Sun
should know, he’d seen it happen a hundred times on the club floor. A
thousand.
Sun liked to read, and it would be a lie to say that attempting to
figure out the head of the Hail family hadn’t been a favorite secret past time
of his for well going on a year now. But he’d been careful up until this
point, never getting too close, never letting his gaze linger for too long. And
he’d told himself the reason for his curiosity was merely because of how
different Wren was to Odin, the only two Shout’s Sun had ever personally
met, and most likely the only two he ever would.
Shouts were a rare breed and quite possibly dying out entirely. The
three most known happened to be the most powerful, and they each led a
family branch of the Brumal mafia. None of them were considered knights
in shining armor, none of them were saints, and getting involved with one
could either be a phenomenal time or the biggest mistake someone could
ever make.
That was why Sun had made sure not to get near whenever Wren
was around. Why he didn’t ask questions about him even if he was dying to
know something. He wouldn’t even allow himself to ask Odin, and he
trusted the Snow Dominus more than he did anyone else on the planet.
Odin Snow had been so good to him. Was so good to him.
What would he think if he discovered that Sun was in here, with his
best friend of all people, breaking the very rules he’d been hired to enforce?
Logically, that thought should have been enough to quell any of the
heat currently swirling low in Sun’s gut.
Too bad his dick didn’t seem to get the message.
Sun was hard. The bulge behind the golden zipper holding his red
pants together impossible to miss—which was no doubt how Wren had
caught sight of it even standing behind him.
He considered his options.
He didn’t really think Wren would force him. There were many
stories about the King of the Den, all of them gruesome and bloody, but
none of them involved forcing anyone into sexual acts.
 “You’re wondering how far I’m going to take this,” Wren guessed,
shocking Sun with how accurate he was. “Wondering if you keep saying no
if I’ll finally back off.”
“Will you?”
“Maybe,” Wren said lightly, as if this was no big deal and they were
talking about what to eat later, “maybe not. Honestly? I’m leaning toward
the latter now that your friend’s made an appearance.”
“Please do not refer to my dick as a separate being,” he said before
he could help it, a little mortified afterward.
“Not your kink? All right, Sunshine, whatever floats your boat.”
“Not calling me that,” Sun stated. “That’s what floats my boat.”
“That one is going to be a little tough I’m afraid, at least for now.”
Wren set his chin back on his shoulder. “Until I can come up with
something more fitting I’m afraid you’re stuck with it.”
“More fitting?”
“I like to nickname my things,” Wren said, again so casually that
Sun’s mouth even dropped open.
“Mr. Shen, I am not in any capacity yours.”
“Want to be?”
“No.”
He made a sound of protest. “At least think about it.”
“No, thank you.”
“What about your aunt?”
“Mr. Shen.” Whatever Sun had been about to say died on his tongue
when Wren trailed his fingers around his front and started playing at the
three buttons doing up his red vest. He felt every little tug as he slowly
worked the buttons free, unable to look away as he watched as it was slowly
opened entirely and Wren was able to slip his whole hand around his front.
His palm danced against him almost as if he were counting his ribs,
only the thin silk shirt left to separate their skin. Not enough to keep Sun
from being able to feel the slight warmth that emanated off of the other
man.
“You’re hard for me,” Wren said then, matter-of-factly, “so you
clearly want it. And there’s something you want to buy—there’s always
something,” he added before Sun could protest. “Which means you’re
holding back for another reason. What,” he tapped his thumb beneath the
swell of Sun’s right nipple, “could,” tap, “that,” tap, “be?”
 There was something his aunt had always wanted, something she’d
talked about one day being able to afford when she’d been well. But all of
her paychecks had gone to Sun and bettering his life, clothes and food and
tuition to get him into one of the better schools in a city ruled by criminals.
She’d worked long hours and practically to the bone so that he never had to
worry about going hungry or showing up to class dressed in dirtier clothes
than the other kids, most of whom came from Brumal families with money
to spare. Blood money, of course, but what did that matter?
People who were too poor to afford bread were too poor to afford
morals.
Morals, just like everything else in this place, came with a price tag.
“Ah,” Wren’s sound cut through Sun’s bitter thoughts, “I see. Is it
that you’re too good for it? Not too good to work here and help others sell
their bodies, but too good to do it yourself? Looking down on your workers,
Sunshine?”
He sounded…disappointed, and there was something seriously
fucked up about Sun because he felt bad about that.
He didn’t want to disappoint Wren.
He almost laughed at the audacity of his own emotions.
But the Dominus was right about one thing, several actually but
only one that mattered in this situation.
Everyone wanted something, usually of the expensive and shiny
variety.
Sun was no different.
Of course, he wasn’t completely off his rocker and would never
admit what he actually wanted. But he had to say something before Wren
lost his patience, and backed into a corner as he was Sun ended up giving
the other guy exactly what he was after.
“She wants a Wona.” It was the rarest creature on the planet, with
only fifty having been brought from Stormie, a neighboring planet that was
mostly water. And even there, the fish was rare. Because this wasn’t its
natural habitat the water on Sanctum would kill it, and a fancy tank was
necessary to keep the fish alive.
Wren stilled behind him clearly caught off guard by the odd choice.
Sun couldn’t blame him, what hope did a woman like his aunt, someone
who had been born in the lower class and had lived her entire life there,
have of ever even seeing a Wona in real life?
 “Forget it,” Sun said, pulling at Wren’s arm, urging him to release
him, and feeling embarrassed for his aunt and himself. A man like Wren,
one of the most powerful in the world, asks him what her deepest desire is
and he replies back with a fish.
“Please tell me she’s always wanted the one in gold.” Instead of
letting him go, Wren tightened his grip, burrowing his face against Sun’s
throat so that he felt when Sun stopped struggling and chuckled in triumph
even before he gave a verbal reply.
“She has,” Sun admitted.
“Perfect.” Suddenly Wren was spinning him around and pinning
him against the door all over again. “Then we have a deal.”
Sun blinked at him, cheeks reddening now that they were facing
each other once more. “What?”
Wren clucked his tongue. “Stop saying that, you’re starting to sound
like a broken record and broken things aren’t fun at all. Now, breaking
things…” He hummed to himself then shook his head, getting back to the
topic at hand. “Us. We have a deal. You give me what I want, and I give
you what your aunt wants. In gold.”
“You can’t be serious?” Sun had been the one to say it, of course,
but he hadn’t thought Wren would go through with it once he heard. What
were the odds that he had a way of getting his hands on a Wona? With so
few on the planet, they were all already spoken for, another reason his
aunt’s frivolous dreams had always been just that. Frivolous. And a dream.
“Serious as the sun, Sunshine.” Wren reached for the fly of his pants
and Sun reacted without thought.
“Wait!” He grabbed onto his wrist, stopping him.
For the first time since he’d entered the bathroom, a darker look
passed over Wren’s expression and Sun felt the air catching in his lungs.
“I’m going to take your dick out of your pants now, Mr. Sun, and not
only are you going to let me, you’re going to damn well enjoy anything I do
from here on out. And after, once you’ve proven you can be a good boy,
I’m going to reward you by making your aunt’s dream come true. Now,” he
moved in closer until his mouth was a mere breath away from making
contact with Sun’s, “nod your head and say you understand, Sunshine.”
They were in the bathroom just off the smaller bar and with the door
locked, anyone who came this way would simply turn around and seek
another place to piss without making too much of a fuss. And if anyone had
noticed in the twenty or so minutes Sun had been trapped here, it didn’t
seem like they were going to come looking either.
He didn’t have a problem selling his body, unlike what Wren had
guessed earlier. He’d do it, for the right price. The right person…
Imagining the look on his aunt’s face if he showed up with a Wona?
Priceless, more than worth his weight in sexual favors if that’s what Wren
chose to ask of him.
Getting to sleep with the King of the Den and appease that secret
part of himself that had always wondered how Wren was in bed?
Bonus.
But the Dominus didn’t need to know that part, and Sun sure as hell
wasn’t going to tell him.
He did, however, find himself nodding his head, almost as if in a
trance.
“Good,” Wren praised, “now the words, Sunshine. Almost there,
don’t let me down now. What is it you need to tell me again?”
Someone help him, he was going to give in to a Shout.
“I understand,” Sun said, low but audible.
Wren grinned at him, his dark eyes flashing with glee and an almost
wicked glint that had Sun sucking in a breath a second before the other
man’s mouth was on him.
The kiss was rough, Wren prying his lips open with his tongue to lap
at his teeth and lick at the roof of his mouth. He nipped him, once, then
again a bit harder when it gained him another inhale from Sun, which he
seemed to enjoy.
While he kept his mouth occupied, Wren’s hands made quick work
of the fly on his pants, slipping his weeping cock free from the confines of
the red material before Sun even realized what was going on. Then he
wrapped his whole fist around him and gave a solid pump from the crown
to the base and squeezed.
Sun pulled away and moaned, slamming his head back against the
door as sensation rocked through him all the way to his toes.
“Really?” Wren asked, sounding even more pleased now. “You’re
that sensitive? How adorable of you.”
Sun wanted to snap something back but lost all ability to speak
when the other man started working him with steady pumps. He’d been
dripping for a while, but precome leaked out at an almost embarrassing rate
now that Wren’s hand was on him, and the other man used it to smooth out
the glide of his palm, stroking him with confidence, like he knew exactly
how Sun liked to be touched without having to ask.
It certainly felt that way.
He’d closed his eyes at some point, but when something hot and
solid bumped against him, they opened again and dropped down.
Wren was lining his cock up with Sun’s, bringing his other hand
over as well so that he could cup them both together between his firm
fingers. With a moan of his own, he thrust, rubbing them together.
The friction caused by the satiny skin of Wren’s cock against his
own had Sun groaning, a string of other needy, desperate sounds slipping
past his defenses before he could get a hold of himself. His gaze stayed
riveted to the scene, to the way Wren’s slightly plumper dick slid against his
as Wren continued to hump.
His cock was red and thick, a little bit longer than Sun’s, but not
enough to make him feel self-conscious about it—not that he could drudge
up any kind of emotion in his current state anyway. Pinned to the door the
way that he was, Sun could do nothing but stand there as Wren continued to
stroke himself against him.
Before long, they were both a sticky mess, the mixture of their come
glistening in the dim red lighting, the slick sound of skin coming into
contact over and over again filling the room, mingling with their combined
panting and the smell of musk and sex.
“Eyes on me, Sunshine,” Wren said then, his commanding voice
cutting through some of the haze in Sun’s mind.
Without realizing he was doing it, Sun obeyed, instantly lifting his
gaze.
Wren was covered in a sheen of sweat, his dark brow furrowed
slightly. “There you go. Now, come for me.” He moved one of his hands to
grip Sun’s balls, rolling them against his palm as he picked up the pace, the
speed of his thrusts increasing so that it was hard to keep track of the
tempo.
Sun opened his mouth but a whining sound was all that came out as
lights exploded, momentarily blocking his vision. The orgasm ripped
through him, stronger than any he’d ever experienced before, and he
unloaded between them, streams of milky come spurting up into the air to
splatter against Wren’s still moving hand and his still rock-hard member.
 Though, he wasn’t for much longer.
Sun was still experiencing the after-waves when Wren finally hit his
limit as well. He gasped and slammed forward, crushing Sun against the
door as his hand stilled, still around their cocks.
Warmth gushed against Sun’s lower abdomen and seemed to go on
forever, with him focusing on sucking in his next breath beneath the heavy
man’s weight.
It wasn’t until Wren finished and stepped back that Sun found out
the only reason he was even able to stand on his feet had been due to the
other guy.
He slid to the ground, completely devoid of feeling from the waist
down. The throws of the orgasm were still twitching through him.
Wren, who was in much better shape, the asshole, tucked himself
into his black jeans and adjusted his clothing, all while his gaze scanned
Sun appreciatively.
The second he noticed, Sun considered what he must look like, with
his dick out and his pants open, covered in come on the floor… He started
to collect himself, hunching over in a poor attempt to hide, but a single
clicking of Wren’s tongue had him freezing instinctually.
What the actual fuck.
Why was he obeying so easily?
Wren dropped down into a crouch in front of him and placed a
single finger beneath his chin, forcing his head to tip back and their eyes to
meet again. He gave him a once over, but there was no telling what he was
looking for or if he found it.
“I’ll have the Wona delivered to your place tomorrow,” Wren said,
voice husky and deep. Satisfied.
Sun blinked and blurted, “That’s it?”
Yeah. He really hated himself right now.
Wren lifted a dark brow and canted his head. “No one’s ever been
disappointed in my work before, Sunshine. What’s wrong?” He glanced at
his flaccid cock. “You seem satisfied to me.”
“No, it’s not—” he stopped himself before he dug an even bigger
hole. “I expect you to stick to your part of the deal.”
Wren snorted and slowly rose to his feet, towering over Sun. He
pulled something from his back pocket, and Sun only processed it was his
multi-slate a heartbeat for the bastard held the device up and took a picture.
 Of him. Messed up on the bathroom floor.
“Hey!” He shot forward onto his knees making a grab for the
device, but Wren anticipated that and stepped back. He stumbled, slamming
onto his hands with a hiss at the stinging pain, then glared up at him.
“Delete that.”
Wren shook his head and tucked the device in the front pocket of his
leather jacket, patting it for good measure. “Don’t want to.”
“I don’t care what you want! You can’t—”
Wren lunged, his hand twisting in Sun’s hair, yanking him back so
that he was on his knees, his thighs spread awkwardly with his pants mid-
thigh. Even though he protested, Wren didn’t seem to care, shoving him
back with that grip on his hair so Sun was bent at an odd angle, his entire
front practically on display.
“Should have taken your shirt off,” Wren mussed, though it was
clear the words were meant for himself and not for Sun at all. “Lift it for
me, Sunshine.”
“Fuck you,” Sun spat, shocked into stillness as soon as he had. His
eyes went wide.
But Wren? He just laughed. A real laugh, one that shook his entire
body, hard enough Sun’s head went bobbing because of the hand still
holding him tight.
“Ow.” He grabbed at Wren’s wrist after the strands were tugged and
his scalp burned.
“Sorry,” Wren immediately loosened his grip but didn’t let go,
“Sorry. You’re hilarious though, Sunshine. You should have told me sooner,
we could have been having so much fun together.”
“Why does it feel like our ideas of fun are vastly different from
mine?”
“Are they?” Wren asked. “Have you already forgotten the
disappointment you were feeling five seconds ago?” He lifted his voice in
an almost whine and mocked, “That’s it?”
“Stop.” Mortified was an understatement.
“Lift your shirt, Sunshine.” The threat there was implied. He’d keep
teasing him if he didn’t.
Making sure he saw how pissed he was about all of this, Sun slipped
a hand beneath the bottom of his uniform shirt and lifted it, stopping once
he had the material bunched between his pecs.
 Wren grunted. “Look at you. The modesty was fake, wasn’t it?
You’re not batting an eyelash now, even exposing yourself so prettily to me.
Almost like you’re offering yourself up on a platter.”
“Happy now?” Sun demanded.
“Almost.” Without releasing him, he stepped back again, leaning so
he could get a better look. His fingers danced against his thigh for a beat,
and Sun thought for sure he was going to pull his multi-slate out again, but
he didn’t end up doing so. Instead, his expression softened some, and a new
gleam entered his eyes that Sun hadn’t seen there before.
“Oh,” the word passed through Wren’s lips with a sigh, “you’re not
sunshine at all, are you.” His eyes scanned the length of Sun’s torso
appreciatively. “You’re pure gold, baby, and you know how I feel about
gold.” Slowly, he lifted his gaze until his eyes were locked on Sun’s once
more.
The pure possessiveness reflected there had Sun’s heart skipping a
beat in fear. And maybe, maybe, something else.
“First I covet it,” Wren’s lips tipped up at the corners, the smirk
devilish and filled with too many dark promises to even name, “and then I
make it mine.”
Before Sun could even fully process the severity of that statement,
he was being hauled back up onto his feet, turned so that he was resting
against the edge of the sink.
Wren pulled up his pants and secured them, then frowned and
removed Suns’ vest and his shirt with little fight from the still stunned
manager. The shirt got tossed carelessly into the trashcan nearby, but the
vest was returned, the buttons done up and the material straightened. He
hummed, clearly not one hundred percent satisfied.
“It’ll have to do,” Wren said. “I hope you have a spare change of
clothes in your office. Your shirt was covered in come and…” he winced at
the vest, “this isn’t much better. You should get that sorted before anyone
else sees you and gets any ideas.”
“Ideas?” Sun wasn’t followed. He shook his head and held up a
hand. “Nevermind. Go back to that other part.”
Wren cocked his head, silently asking him to be more specific.
“One time,” Sun told him dumbly. “You said it’d just have to be the
one time. This,” he motioned to the exit where they’d gotten off only a few
minutes ago, “was it.”
 Instead of responding, Wren merely grinned and stepped away.
“Wait.” Sun wasn’t sure why he was stopping him, but he wanted to
hear him say that this was it between them.
What he got instead was a single-shoulder shrug as Wren undid the
lock and pulled open the door. Sounds of beat music and chatter in the bar
just down the hall rushed into the small bathroom, echoing against the tiled
walls.
“Tomorrow,” Wren said, and when that caused Sun to inhale he
chuckled knowingly. “The Wona,” he reminded. “I’ll have it delivered
tomorrow.”
Then, without another word, Wren Shen stepped from the bathroom
and vanished down the hall.
Sun stood there, propped up against the sink, mouth hanging open,
and watched as the door slowly swung shut once more.
 CHAPTER 3:

Sun had learned at a young age how convenient shadows were. How
blending into them could make the difference between survival and sudden
death. Like many others who’d grown up on Sanctum, he’d spent his
childhood in schools overrun by children of mafia members. Some of them
were okay, just regular students who happened to have Brumal parents.
Others...Well, it was clear what they were picking up at home. But, even
considering that, the best part was, half the time the gossip and the bullying
hadn’t even come from Brumal sons or daughters.
He’d been eleven when his parents had died in a road accident.
Their hovercar had been smashed into by a drunk driver taking a turn onto a
one-way street. From what he understood, it had happened too quickly for
his father, who’d been driving, to even have a chance of evading contact.
Both he and Sun’s mother had died upon impact.
Though he’d lost his parents that day, he’d been luckier than most.
His aunt had immediately taken him in, saving him from having to be sent
to an orphanage. As his mother’s sister, she shared the same kind of
temperament, the same attentiveness.
Aside from the cruelty of kids at school, Sun’s childhood had
actually been pretty good despite his great loss, and it was all thanks to her.
He spent days trying to convince himself that that’s why he’d done
it. That, really, it’d been a sacrifice for his aunt and she deserved that and so
much more from him in return for all the sacrifices she’d made to raise him.
He coasted through Club Cherry as per usual, keeping his head down but
his eyes keen, sticking to the shadowy alcoves, observing more than he was
ever seen himself.
Keeping quiet, keeping to himself, they were survival tactics, ones
that had gotten him through life this far. And yet somehow, that day five
nights ago, he’d somehow slipped out of the shadows and into the light.
The light cast on the golden hoard of a dragon.
 Wren Shen was the same as those mythical creatures Sun used to
read about in storybooks. Ethereal, powerful, mysterious…
Attracted to anything sparkly.
Which was why Sun had always figured he’d fallen under the man’s
radar. There was nothing flashy or special about him, after all. His
personality could be considered dim at best with how quiet and reserved he
was. Regular customers even referred to him as granite behind his back,
careful not to break any of the rules during one of his shifts for fear of being
tossed out on their ass, no matter how much money they were known to
spend in the club.
Sun took his job seriously, which was why he was still beating
himself up over the happenings of last week. When he’d walked in on
Wren, he should have instantly apologized but firmly pointed out that it was
against club policy for them to be conducting sexual relations in a public
space. At the very least, he could have turned tail, and left, pretending like
he hadn’t seen anything, since Wren was a Dominus and therefore shouldn’t
be treated the same as any other regular customer.
But what had he done?
Sun had stared at the other man’s cock, half entranced. He may as
well have told Wren straight up that he sometimes tried to picture what his
dick looked like. Now that he’d seen it…
He shook his head and swiped the rag he’d been using to clean some
of the back tables in the smallest of the bars with. It was mostly dead
tonight in that section, and he’d shamelessly retreated there to do some
cleaning between customers—technically not one of his specific job
requirements, but something that helped clear his head when he felt
overwhelmed. He estimated he had about another ten minutes or so before
he needed to leave and make rounds in other sections of the club.
When he shifted to the next table and saw the half-empty glass of
Orange JJ, he was reminded of his aunt and his earlier train of thought. It’d
been her favorite alcoholic beverage before she’d been diagnosed and the
doctors had ordered her to avoid any kind of substances, even alcohol.
They’d recently rescinded that order since she was now dying and all, but
she’d yet to ask Sun to buy and he hadn’t thought of it himself.
Maybe he should make a quick stop on his way home and get her a
bottle.
 She could drink it while she sat next to her new tank and watched
her new pet.
True to his word, Wren had given him a Wona. Sun had returned
home after a long shift, taken two steps past the foyer, and then froze
beneath the doorway. The tank, at least ten feet long, stretched from one
side of their modest living room to the other, the crystal clear sea green
water filled to the top—water that would cost more than they had in their
bank accounts combined for just a cup.
His aunt had been sitting in front of the tank, at the far left end, her
nose practically pressed up against the glass, so engrossed in what she was
doing she hadn’t heard him come in. The only reason she finally did a few
moments later was because the six-inch creature inside the tank started
swimming in the other direction.
She’d turned her head and caught sight of Sun and beamed.
There’d been tears in her eyes.
His aunt had assumed the gift had come from Odin, and Sun hadn’t
been able to correct her, unsure what he would say. He could exactly tell her
he’d received it as payment for allowing the other man to rub their dicks
together until they reached completion.
In the beginning, when he’d started working at Club Cherry, she’d
been very against it. She’d been afraid of him getting involved with the
Brumal, even in that capacity, and had vehemently forbade him from going
back each day. He hadn’t listened because they’d needed the money, but
also because he enjoyed working there.
And they both owed Odin Snow.
It’d been hard to compare the woman he’d seen that morning, crying
in her living room over a fish gifted to them by a Dominus, with the one
who’d screamed and firmly told him she was disappointed in his decision to
quit school and work for one.
Death changed people though. Maybe the fact the end was near for
her was the reason behind her reaction. She'd been so grateful, was still, and
would be sat in front of that tank whenever Sun came home, smiling at the
golden Wona like it was the greatest thing in all the world.
So, yeah, it’d be easy for Sun to lie to himself and say that’s why
he’d done it, being able to see that look on her face. And he’d put in a
valiant effort to convince himself of that fact too, for days now. But the
truth was, the real reason he’d accepted Wren’s offer had been simple.
 He was selfish and he’d wanted a taste of Wren Shen. He’d wanted
to know what the fuss was about and why everyone flocked to him the
second word that he was visiting the club made its rounds. There’d always
been something mysteriously charming about the Dominus, Sun could
acknowledge that, but the darkness lurking just beneath the charisma was
impossible to miss. Everyone else had to see it too, and yet that didn’t stop
them from trying their luck with him, stroking fingers down his arms,
giving him sultry glances and whispered suggestions as he passed by.
Odin Snow was the King of the Red Light District, but Wren Shen
was the richest man on the planet and everyone knew it. Add to that he was
sexy as the Devil himself and it was no wonder people wanted him. It was
just, Sun figured everyone should have better self-preservation than they
did. Looking from afar was safe. But up close?
An image of Wren’s face when he’d lost his patience with him in the
bathroom came to him then. The low way he’d spoken when he’d all but
ordered Sun to let him have his way with his body as he pleased. The
confidence and control in his tone when he’d told him he would enjoy it.
And, damn him, Sun had. He’d enjoyed it so much he’d slipped up
at the end there and let it known that he’d been a little disappointed that all
he’d gotten was a really good hand job. All he’d gotten was a teasing taste
of Wren’s cock, thick and proud, hot and silky to the touch as it stroked
against his own hard length.
Sun had wanted a real taste at that moment, when he’d been sitting
on the floor, covered in a mixture of their come. Fortunately, he’d come to
his senses soon after, and had realized with a start how ridiculous his
feelings were. What he should want was renewed distance between himself
and the Hail Dominus. He’d thought he’d blown that with the way Wren
had spoken to him before he’d walked out of the bathroom, but apparently,
he’d been panicked for nothing.
Wren had returned to Club Cherry exactly one time since that night,
and he’d gone straight up to Odin’s office, and then straight out once more.
He hadn’t sought Sun out, hadn’t lingered in an attempt to get his attention.
Hell, he hadn’t even asked whether or not his aunt was enjoying the Wona.
Because it’d been a mere transaction between them, a one-time
thing, and now that it was fulfilled, it was over.
If Sun felt an inkling of disappointment at that? Well, so what? He’d
get over it, the same way he got over everything else. This wasn’t the first
time he’d wanted something he couldn’t have, and it certainly wouldn’t be
the last. Which was why he’d promised himself that today would be it. The
last day he discreetly peered out of the corner of his eyes, scanning for any
signs of Wren in the club as he worked through the rooms. The last day he
would allow himself that tiny glimmer of hope that he’d catch sight of him,
or that the other man might let on that he’d been thinking about their
encounter as well.
Sun couldn’t get involved with someone like Wren Shen anyway,
and fantasies were called such because they were impossible. It wasn’t just
that it’d be suicidal to willingly get involved with a man that powerful, a
man who owned a good chunk of the planet, it’d also be like Sun spitting on
everything he’d learned throughout his life.
People who stayed out of the spotlight tended to live longer, and
being seen with a man like Wren? The opposite of being discrete. Sun had
plans. Plans that were currently on hold while he took care of his aunt, sure,
but eventually ones that he would get back to, and when that time came—
though, he didn’t like to think about it too long for what that would mean in
regards to his aunt—he needed to be able to walk away from the dangerous
world of the Brumal without batting an eyelash. Without a struggle.
Odin had already agreed to allow him to return to his university and
pick up his studies when his aunt passed. He’d agreed to pay the tuition
bills, so long as Sun continued to work here in the weekends and during
vacations. Sun was a valuable asset to Club Cherry. That was by design.
The second he’d gotten this job, he’d dedicated himself to it.
He was smart, so, no, he didn’t want the attention of Wren. He just
felt disappointed he hadn’t gotten the chance to find out what the other man
tasted like or what he felt like in bed, that was all. Sun merely wanted to
fulfill a fantasy and that was all.
He needed to stop replaying that scene in his head over and over,
and he needed to get back to his regularly paid program. With only an hour
left on his shift before he could head home, he was close to getting there
too.
Another thing Sun was good at, aside from hiding in shadows? Self-
discipline. If he put his mind to something, that was it, which meant as soon
as he stepped foot out of the club tonight, he’d purge anything and
everything from that night from his mind like it’d never been and dutifully
—
 “I think it’s clean, Sunshine,” a rich, sarcastic voice drawled from a
few feet away.
Sun sucked in a breath and retreated a step, shoulders locking into
place even more when his gaze landed on the man who’d been haunting
him all this time.
“Mr. Shen.”
Wren was dressed in black leather pants and a t-shirt that hugged his
broad shoulders and biceps. Gold rings decorated each of his ten fingers,
and hoops made of the same metal trailed down his right ear. He’d added a
lip ring as well, set in the center of his full, cherry-colored, bottom lip. The
kohl at his eyes was slightly smudged as if he’d rubbed at them recently.
There’d been one or two other people in the small bar when Sun had
last checked, but a quick glance around showed they were somehow alone
now, not even the bartender who was meant to be on shift there.
“I told him to take five,” Wren explained when he saw Sun’s gaze
linger on the empty bar across the room. “You were too distracted to
notice.”
Sun placed the rag onto the table he’d been wiping down for the past
five minutes and pulled himself together. The cold mask he wore when he
worked slipped over his features and his spine straightened so that he was
standing tall and alert. His voice was calm and collected when he spoke,
thankfully covering the wild way his heart was pumping a mile a minute in
his chest.
“With all due respect, Mr. Shen, you have no right to dismiss my
employees.” He stood his ground when Wren took a lazy step closer.
Idly he drummed his fingers against the back of the tucked-in chairs
as he made his way down the row of cleaned tables toward Sun, his pace
slow and calculated, though it was obvious he was trying to appear
otherwise.
Sun recognized a predator when he saw one, however. Experience
had taught me many things and he was a fast learner. Instead of putting him
at ease, the tension was raised a bar with every step closer the Dominus
came.
“Are you going to go tattle to Odin?” Wren asked. “That was the
threat you chose last time, wasn’t it?”
Sun grabbed the rag, mostly just so he had something to do with his
hands, and then motioned toward the door with his chin. “I’ll have another
bartender come to serve you if you choose to remain here, Mr. Shen.”
He’d only made it two steps before a vice-like grip locked onto his
wrist, yanking him back. He stumbled from the force of it, tumbling against
a strong chest, arms banding up around him to catch him.
Wren grinned when he risked a glance up at his face. “Where do you
think you’re going, Sunshine?”
“Work,” he winced when the word came out strained and cleared his
throat in an attempt to right himself. Sun tried to pull away, frowning when
the other man merely tightened his hold around him, keeping him in place
trapped against his chest. “Mr. Shen. Let go.”
“Or?” Wren grinned, seeming to enjoy himself way more than he
should. He leaned back against the edge of the table Sun had just been
cleaning, dragging Sun’s body closer so that he was standing between his
thighs.
Sun’s eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what the Dominus was
playing at, at least with that challenging glint in his eyes. As for his reason
for being here, in the bar, alone with him…He couldn’t think of anything
that made sense, so he set that question aside for now and focused on the
more important one.
How to get himself free of the other man’s hold.
Lesson one, threaten? All right. He’d play.
“I am an unpinned employee,” Sun reminded him sternly. “And as
the manager of this club, it is within my power to permanently ban anyone
from entering who has broken a rule. I don’t need Odin’s permission to
have you thrown out, Mr. Shen. Sexual harassment is not tolerated at Club
Cherry. Period.”
Wren snorted. Rudely. Without hesitation. “Call the bouncers you
plan on having tossed, Sunshine. I’d love to see if any of them would risk
going through with it. Unless you plan on trying to drag me out the door
yourself?” That idea seemed to pique his interest for some reason and he
perked up. “Actually, I might just let you. Your shift ends soon anyway.
How about you drag me out of here and take me home with you.”
“Why on Sanctum would I ever even consider doing something like
that?” Sun growled. Bringing a Dominus to his house? He wasn’t so
reckless.
The corner of his mouth tipped up wickedly and he flattened a palm
against Sun’s lower back. “So I can see Gilded, of course.”
 He frowned before he could help it, and Wren latched onto the crack
in his expression.
“Oh, Sunshine, you didn’t really think I was going to just hand over
a priceless object like that to you for nothing more than a quick frot in a
shitty bathroom, did you?”
Sun froze in his arms. He couldn’t mean… “We had a deal.”
Wren hummed in agreement. “Yes, the deal was that you let me do
what I wanted in that shitty bathroom and I give your aunt her greatest
desire—a Wona, which I happened to have, who is named Gilded, by the
way.”
“And I let you,” Sun argued. “It happened and it’s over.”
“You’re not wrong,” he nodded, “but here’s the thing, Lesson
Three? Always pay attention to the fine print. You asked for me to give
your aunt the fish. But you never said how long I had to allow her to keep
it. Wonas count as property, you see, and all of the paperwork for Gilded?
That’s still under my name—should have asked for that to be transferred as
well. Your aunt, and please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not trying to
be cruel, isn’t going to live much longer. Do you think her poor heart could
take losing something she’s wished for this long? Take it from me, it’s
always worse when something you already have is taken from you, than
never having that something at all.”
Sun’s mouth dropped open and before he could help it, his thoughts,
his true ones, the ones he kept carefully under lock and key at all times,
slipped out. “You fucking monster.”
Wren appeared taken about by his cursing for a split second but
recovered quickly. If anything, he looked more interested than he had a
moment prior even. “Let’s make another deal, what do you say, Sunshine?
Same rules apply. An exchange, what I want for whatever you want. Fair.”
“Fair?!” he asked incredulously. “You call this fair? You’re fucking
with me!”
“Baby,” it came out as a lust-filled rumble, “going to be honest here,
it’s a serious turn-on when you swear like that. Keep it up, and I might
forget we’re in the middle of negotiations and do something seriously
against those little club rules you try so hard to enforce. So let’s keep that to
a minimum for now and later, when I give you the okay, you can cuss as
much as you want, yeah?”
 Sun could feel the truth in his statement prodding against his lower
abdomen. Wren’s cock was straining against his pants, his hips gyrated
slightly as he rubbed himself against Sun, seemingly without noticing he
was even doing it.
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and that must have
been answer enough for Wren flashed him that fake, charismatic smile then,
the same one that had the masses eagerly crawling on all fours for him.
“What’s it going to be? Think carefully, remember Lesson Three.”
His mind scrambled to find a way out of this, but Wren had him
well and truly trapped. If he refused, the Dominus was well within his legal
rights to storm to his house and take the Wona back. His aunt would be
devastated, and not only that, but she’d find out that Sun had sort of lied by
omission when he’d allowed her to believe the fish had been a gift from
Odin.
The thought of devastating her like that, of disappointing her on top
of it…
He couldn’t allow that to happen.
“I want you to transfer the paperwork over to my aunt,” he said,
fisting his hands at his sides when Wren clucked his tongue.
“I don’t think so,” he told him, “try again.”
“That’s what I want,” Sun insisted.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” He needed to get that fish for his aunt, needed to make it hers
so that Wren wouldn’t be able to use it against him like this again or
threaten to take it away from her. She didn’t have a lot of time left. He’d do
anything to ensure the time she did have was spent happily.
Even if that meant playing right into the Hail Family head’s hands.
“All right.”
Sun blinked, certain he’d misheard. It was too easy. “What?”
“I’ll sign over the paperwork to your aunt, you just have to give me
something in return.”
Why did he have such a bad feeling about this all of a sudden? “We
can leave here together,” he said softly, if not a bit shakily, “after my shift.”
“Oh,” Wren chuckled, “we’ll definitely be doing that, but that’s not
enough, Sunshine. That’s not what I want, not all I want, in any case.”
“You said it was a trade, one thing for another. Not multiple things.”
 “I also mentioned making sure to check the fine print. I’m going to
ask for one thing and one thing only, so I’m not breaking any rules. It’s just
the one thing isn’t specifically for you to come home with me tonight.
Don’t you know who I am? I’m greedier than that, and that Wona is
certainly worth more than a single night—that isn’t an insult. I’d say that
about anyone, including myself, and I’m every bit as priceless as that
Gilded is.”
Sun searched his eyes but couldn’t figure it out. He was admittedly a
bit frightened by the intensity of this conversation, but there was
anticipation there too, a twisted sense of morbid curiosity that had been
dormant within him for a long time now. So long, he’d been pretty sure
he’d killed that part of himself and was a bit surprised to discover that
wasn’t the case after all.
Still, Sun wasn’t reckless, and everything about this screamed it was
a trap and he should cut his losses before it was too late.
“Think of your aunt, Sunshine,” Wren coaxed.
“You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m Brumal,” he shrugged a single shoulder, “what did you expect,
really?”
Sun didn’t know what he’d been expecting all week when he’d been
sneaking glances at the crowds, trying to find any hint of Wren out there,
but this certainly hadn’t been it.
“Tell me,” he blew out a breath and forced his body to remain still
as he waited.
“It’s simple really,” Wren told him. “I’ve owned Gilded for a while
now. She means a lot to me, and she’s worth a lot as well. It’s only fair that
the trade be for something of equal value to me, don’t you agree? I’ll let
your aunt fulfill her lifelong dream.”
It took all of his willpower not to pull away when Wren leaned in,
bringing his face a mere inch away. The nearness meant Sun had nowhere
else to look but directly into his eyes. Eyes that seemed alight with
something similar to triumph, even before he voiced the sentence that
would completely and totally wreck Sun’s universe as he knew it.
“I’ll let her own a Wona,” Wren practically purred, warm breaths
fanning across Sun’s cheeks, “and in return,” he grinned, embodying at that
moment every devilish thing Sun could think of all at once, “I’ll own you.”
 This time, Sun did try to move away, fear snapping him into action
before he even realized he was moving backward.
Wren wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and jerked him
forward, however, knocking him back against him, chest to chest, hard
enough the air whooshed out of Sun’s lungs. He’d been aggressive in the
bathroom, but now Sun realized with a start that he’d been holding back
that night.
He couldn’t so much as budge in the other man’s hold, no matter
how hard he tried.
“What do you say, Sunshine?” Wren asked silkily. “Do we have a
deal?”
Sun had learned at a young age how convenient shadows were.
But somehow, the devil had found him anyway.

Part Two of Wren and Sun’s story can be found in the final installment
of the Whisper in the Dark trilogy!

Looking for something else to read in the meantime?

Want another MM Romance?
Check out the first chapter of Abandoned Things, about a writer who
one day meets the anti-hero of his popular book series.
Want another Dark Sci-Fi MM Romance? Here’s an exclusive first
look at His Dark Paradox by Avery Tu and Kota Quinn, written in the
same universe as A Whisper in the Dark—with my permission!
ABANDONED THINGS
By Chani Lynn Feener
 PROLOGUE:
The world around him began to wink in and out, his vision blurring.
It wasn’t hard to guess, even in his state with his thoughts growing cloudy,
that this was all due to the blood loss. That he wasn’t going to be able to
hold on much longer.
With some effort, he turned his head, tipping it back so that he could
look at her one last time. Tears were dripping down her rose-stained
cheeks, making tracks through the thin layer of dirt that had collected there
during her run through the forest. Her blonde hair was wild and tangled,
tiny bits of broken leaves and twigs poking out at odd angles.
“You don’t look like a princess,” he said, the words gravely and low.
It was a struggle just to get them out, but he forced himself to continue past
the pain. If this was to be his final moment, he wouldn’t waste it.
A loud sob escaped past her full lips and he realized she was
holding him in her lap when he felt her arms tighten around his shoulders
and across his chest. A glance down showed she was pressing her small
hands against the wound.
Blood was already smeared up to her elbows.
Resolutely, he sighed. Or, he meant to, it came out more like a cough
than anything. He grimaced afterward because it caused more tears to pool
into her pale green eyes.
He recalled the joke he’d made months ago, about how her people
were considered so cold-blooded, they were unable to shed tears. He’d
never admit it, wouldn’t get the chance to anyway, but he regretted saying
that to her now.
There were a lot of things he regretted; he didn’t want his final
moment to become one of those things as well.
Reaching up, he managed to brush the tips of his fingers across her
jaw before he lost sensation in his arm and it dropped back down to his
side.
“Rook!” she screamed his name, leaning in closer so that he could
make out the smattering of freckles across her nose. Fake freckles, drawn
on there with makeup to help keep her cover.
Still, fake or not, they were endearing.
The length she was willing to go to for her people was endearing.
“I love you,” he told her, voice now a mere whisper, easily carried
off by the wind.
When she squeezed her eyes shut, however, he knew she’d heard
him.
The corner of his mouth tipped up, and his vision narrowed in, so
that for a brief moment all he could see was her face hovering above his
own and nothing else.
“I love you,” he repeated.
And then everything went black.
Prince Rook of Bronze was dead.
 CHAPTER 1:

The chapter was gone.

Frankie stared at the blank document, eyes practically glued to the
screen as if he hoped words would magically reappear on the page. This
morning, before running off for class, he’d saved before and after he’d
emailed the file to Maggie. He was sure of it.
And yet…
The chapter was gone.
He’d pulled another all-nighter to get chapter eighty-three written.
It’d taken a couple of beers and sheer will but he’d somehow managed to
write the scene he’d been dreading ever since he’d realized that was the
direction the story was taking. Rook was a fan favorite, and Frankie
doubted his decision to kill him off, but…
As far as he could see, he’d painted both of them into a corner.
There was no other way for Rook to get the kind of happily ever after he
wanted. At least this way, Frankie had been able to give him redemption
and a moment of love between him and the series' female main lead, Lis.
But now it was just…gone.
He’d spent almost an hour combing through all of the files on his
computer in the off chance he’d accidentally titled it something weird or
saved it in a strange location. Of course, that wasn’t the case. Then he’d run
a full search. It was nowhere to be found. It’d just vanished. Like it had
never existed to begin with.
Technically, the file itself was still there. At the top of the blank
document was the title he’d saved it under Gold and Silver Chap 83. There
was even the chapter header at the start of the page, the two words almost
teasing him with their existence and the empty space that followed after
them.
Had he…deleted it? He hadn’t had that much to drink though, just
enough to take the edge off so he could go through with it. But there was no
other explanation he could think of. His roommate, Adelaide, was currently
studying abroad this semester, and they were the only two who had a key to
the apartment.
Frankie groaned and dropped his head onto his folded arms on the
table. All of that work and all of the trouble just to be able to do it gone.
The only upside was he was ahead—his publisher already had the next two
months’ worth of chapters, so they wouldn’t fall behind because of this—
but still. It’d been difficult enough for Frankie to write it the first time. Now
he had to do it all over again?
Killing off a main character, even a secondary one, wasn’t exactly
easy.
He wanted to cry.
He wanted to scream about how unfair it was.
He had to get ready for the release party.
Frankie peeled himself up off the floor of the living room, staring
down at his computer one last time before forcing himself into motion.
What he really wanted to do was pound out the chapter again while it was
still somewhat fresh in his mind, but he couldn’t be late for the party. No
matter what had happened, Maggie had gotten a blank document in place of
the chapter she’d been promised. Frankie couldn’t follow up one mistake
with another, which meant putting his own wants aside and getting his ass
into gear.
It wasn’t the end of the world, he tried to comfort himself as he got
ready. Really, he should just be grateful that this was the first time a mistake
like this had happened. He also made a mental note not to drink and write
again. The only explanation was that when he’d thought he was hitting the
save button, he must have actually been deleting.
He was an idiot.
Twenty minutes later, the ordeal was still swirling in his head when
he pulled into the parking lot behind Troll Books. The store was situated on
Main Street and was attached to a bakery on the right and an antique
jewelry shop on the left.
It was Halloween, and most storefronts had gone all out with their
decorations. At first, Frankie hadn’t been sure doing the event on a holiday
made sense, but his agent had convinced him it would work out and he
trusted her. Even though the official signing didn’t start for another half
hour, there were already a ton of people wandering about the plaza, some
dressed in costume, others just going about their normal daily lives.
 He glanced over at the box resting on the passenger seat next to him
and sighed.
Frankie had written the first volume of Gold and Silver during his
Freshman and Sophomore years of college. A new serial novel platform had
opened up and he’d originally submitted thinking it would be good practice
—he was majoring in Creative Writing, and the end goal was to one day
become a published author. But he hadn’t actually believed the serial novel
format would get him anywhere.
At first, it’d appeared to be going the way he’d anticipated. He’d
gotten a handful of readers on the first couple of chapters, some who were
nice enough to leave feedback suggesting improvements or telling him they
liked it—nothing negative. It’d been somewhere around chapter ten that
suddenly things had changed. The story had gone from having a few
followers to hundreds in less than a month, and those numbers had only
grown.
The company hosting the novels had reached out, offering to sign
him, and it’d taken him days to process that it was all real. He was going to
be a published author, with a publisher and everything, and he hadn’t even
graduated from college yet.
They’d released Gold and Silver Volume One six months after he’d
signed the contract, and it’d been a huge success. It’d meant Frankie had to
step up his writing game, with an improved release schedule that released a
chapter every Sunday night, instead of the random times he’d done so in the
past while struggling to write and maintain his GPA.
He’d gained enough popularity that Adelaide constantly joked that
he should just drop out of school to avoid having all of that debt afterward,
but he’d liked attending and understood the importance of continuing his
education in the writing field. So, instead of leaving, he’d worked his ass
off balancing both his work and school life, and all of that should have
culminated in him graduating last semester.
If only he hadn’t flunked Oceanography.
It was a general education class, required for graduation, so even
though Frankie had more than enough credits and had completed all of the
coursework required for his major, he’d been unable to receive a diploma.
Admittedly, he’d cried that first day and had gotten wasted at Ignite, the
local bar down the street from campus.
 The strange part was when he’d asked his professor why she’d
flunked him, she’d told him that he’d done crappy on his final presentation
and then had failed to turn the material for said presentation in. It’d been
worth seventy percent of their final grade, and without it, she’d given him
an F.
Only, Frankie had turned that paper in. He was certain of it.
“Sort of like you didn’t delete Chapter 83?” he mumbled to himself,
yanking the top of the box off and tossing it into the back seat. He was
frustrated and he needed to get his shit together. Signings were already
draining enough as it was without him going into them already in a bad
mood.
Because he’d still been in school, he’d been worried about his peers
and his professors finding out about his book deal. Even when he’d first
posted chapters online, he’d used a penname, wanting to remain anonymous
since it’d only been meant as a fun past time and a way for him to hone his
skills. After being signed, he’d kept the penname, and since the first signing
event had been held at the local bookstore not far from Willow Wills
University where he attended, he’d come up with a “clever” disguise to help
conceal his identity further.
Frankie pulled his mask from the box. It was the same one he’d
worn to the first signing and the couple he’d done since. Tonight’s event
was to honor the release of Volume Two, and while Lucy, his agent, had
suggested he get a new mask, he was particularly fond of this one.
It was in the shape of a white wolf, with gold dusted at the large eye
holes, the snout, and the tips of the ears. When he’d been thinking up
pennames to use, Frankie had jokingly gone with Cuthwulf, finding it
funny. Now, having a moniker that meant “famous wolf” as a successful
writer was more embarrassing than ironic. Since his fame was already
synonymous with it, however, Frankie had no choice but to keep it.
By that point, he’d figured if he was already going to look
ridiculous, he may as well go all in, hence his on-the-nose mask. It’d helped
that there was a pretty popular masquerade chapter in Volume One. Fans
had loved the added mystery to him and had started attending the other
signings in masks of their own, so it’d worked out in his favor in the end.
Once he had the mask in place he checked his outfit one final time
—he was in his nicest pair of black jeans and had on a white dress shirt
with pale gold pinstripes to match the mask. He waited until he was sure no
one was looking his way and then exited his car and sprinted through the
packed lot toward the back entrance to the bookstore.
Posters had been hung up on the windows boasting about the event.
For Volume One’s launch, the company hired an artist to create images of
the three main characters. Sage, Lis, and Rook all stared at Frankie as he
approached, and it was stupid, but he purposefully avoided looking at the
one of Rook.
The guy wasn’t real, but he felt guilty about killing him off anyway.
Even if the first attempt hadn’t taken and he was going to have to
write the whole damn thing again.
He almost groaned aloud thinking about it, catching himself just in
time as he made his way down the narrow back hall and slipped onto the
main floor of the bookstore. He paused there, taking in the decorations and
letting the anticipation of it all sink in and sweep away the stress of the
missing chapter.
While it was true Frankie would be happier to stand off on the
sidelines than be a focal point at these types of things, he couldn’t deny the
rush of excitement he felt when he saw that the store was already packed
with people waiting for the event to begin.
He loved seeing people read his books, loved the swell of pride that
came over him when he overheard them discussing it amongst themselves.
He didn’t waste too much time taking it in, however, spotting Lucy
over at the café section a moment later.
Lucy noticed him while he was on his way toward her, and she
waved him over with a big smile on her face.
“Look! You’re going to love these!” Lucy turned and made one last
comment to one of the employees about the cookies set out on the table,
then snatched one up and held it out to Frankie as he approached. “What do
you think?”
The cookies were individually wrapped, some in see-through gold,
others in silver or bronze—a color to represent each of the main characters.
They were all shaped the same, stars the size of her palm, coated in a pale
yellow icing and lightly dusted with copper glitter.
“And we’ve got these!” Lucy replaced the cookie, making sure it
was perfectly lined up with the others on the table, and turned to grab
another item off the counter.
 Frankie accepted it when she held it out, admittedly impressed with
the packaging. The chocolates were packaged in sets of three with a clear
wrapper so the designs could easily be seen. They were the size of half
dollars, a dark black with intricate gold crowns decorated on the tops.
“Hopefully these will appease the Archer fans,” Lucy said, tapping a
long cherry red nail against the chocolates, “since we didn’t give her a
cookie.”
Talia Archer was the villain in the trilogy, and while she wasn’t as
popular as Sage or Rook, she still had a decent following despite how
infrequently she appeared on the page.
“Maybe I should have made her less of a hot badass,” Frankie only
half-joked, handing the chocolates back so Lucy could replace them.
“Bite your tongue.” One of the employees called Lucy’s name
across the shop and she held up a hand to indicate she was coming. She
motioned to Frankie to follow her and the two started walking. “What do
you think? We went all out this time.”
Frankie dutifully took another look around the store.
Streamers and strings of silver and gold twinkle lights hung from the
ceiling, some in spiraling patterns, others dripping straight downward over
the tops of shelves and tables. Another poster depicting Frankie—in his
mask—holding the second volume, smiling, was set in front of the area
they’d sectioned off for the signing. There was a corkboard decorated with
fan art in the corner by the back door, and a blank chalkboard in the
opposite corner of the store for fans to write something while they waited
for their turn or browsed.
Frankie passed a small table that boasted having this month’s top
teen reads, and he paused. Masks had been set around the table, resting on
top of book covers so the whole display was a glittery beacon in the center
of the store.
He tapped the nose of one, a navy blue and gold half-mask with a
black lace boarder around it. The tip of his finger came back covered in
sparkles and he grimaced.
The scene in Volume One had seen Lis, the female main character,
sneaking into the palace of her rival, Prince Sage. She’d been trying to
collect information about his allies and their plans and had been able to
move about due to the fact she’d infiltrated his army already. Instead, she’d
gotten caught up in a coup d’état, which had resulted in the death of Sage’s
father. She’d inadvertently saved the prince from undergoing the same fate,
and the two of them had been thrust together from then on.
“People loved them so much,” Lucy explained, coming back over to
Frankie who was still staring down at the masks, “we decided we should
bring them back even though there’s no masquerade scene in book two.
Anyway, I heard about the missed deadline.”
“I’ll get the chapter rewritten as soon as possible,” Frankie
promised.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “This is why we collect chapters
months in advance. Besides, you’ve never missed a deadline before.”
Frankie was meant to email Chapter Eighty-Three over this
morning, but readers would be receiving Chapter Seventy-Six on the
website in two days when Sunday rolled around. There was time.
Still.
“Let’s get you over to the desk and ready to sign,” Lucy told him,
clearly seeing that he was still uncomfortable about his mistake. At twenty-
five, she was only four years Frankie’s senior, and more often than not, felt
more like an older sister figure to him than anything else. She draped an
arm around his shoulders, needing to stand up on her tiptoes in order to
accomplish that, and then gave him another reassuring smile.
“Trust me,” she said. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Yeah.” He tried to return her cheer but only managed it to a degree.
“Fans will be lining up soon,” she reminded.
Deciding not to let her down further, Frankie put the mystery of the
deleted chapter aside and followed her over to the section of the store setup
for him to sign.
 CHAPTER 2:

It took two hours for Frankie to start to feel drained, plastering a

smile on his face every time a new fan stepped up, the look a bit more
forced each time.
The turnout had been better than expected, with a line still leading to
the door, despite how long he’d been sitting there signing books. The stacks
that had been set up on and around the long table he was seated at were
dwindling for the third time, and after he finished signing the copy in his
hands he motioned to Lucy that they needed to go in the back and bring out
some more.
“I made this for you,” a girl in her early teens said excitedly as she
stepped up. She opened a powder pink folder and took something out,
sliding it across the shiny mahogany surface of the table.
Frankie grinned, feeling a rush of energy as he lifted the set of
watercolor bookmarks to get a better look at them. There were four in total,
each one depicting one of the main characters of the trilogy as well as Talia.
They’d been hand drawn and colored with watercolors, flecks of gold,
silver, and bronze paint added afterward for effect. On the backs, quotes
from the characters had been written in fancy calligraphy handwriting.
“These are gorgeous!” Frankie told her. “You made them yourself?”
“Yes!” The girl tucked a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her
right ear shyly. “I just love the Gold and Silver trilogy.”
Frankie carefully set the bookmarks aside and grabbed one of the
copies of Volume Two, flipping open the inside with his pen at the ready.
The girl quickly gave him her name, and as he wrote it, Frankie asked,
“Who’s your favorite character?”
“Rook!”
His hand paused for the briefest of seconds in the middle of his
signature. Hopefully the girl hadn’t noticed.
“I just love him!” the girl continued to gush. “I know he’s the
antihero, but he’s so great? I like that he’s not a pushover and he’s willing to
do anything to get what he wants and protect his people.”
 “Sage wants what’s best for his people too,” Frankie said, knowing
he shouldn’t since he didn’t want to give any hints away.
“He’s my best friend’s favorite,” the girl told him, “but she couldn’t
come tonight. Can you sign this copy for her?” She placed another book on
the table and Frankie smiled at her absently. “We went to your first signing
together! It was super nice then too, but I think it’s so cool that you hired
cosplayers this time.”
“What?” Frankie finished his signature and handed the books back,
trying to mask his frown at the odd statement.
“He’s standing outside!” the girl pointed toward the front door. “His
costume is so realistic! And he looks exactly as I imagined! Did you help
pick him out?”
“Gracie,” the girl’s mother sent Frankie an apologetic look and tried
herding her daughter off to the side, “people are waiting for their turn.”
“Thanks again!” the girl, Gracie, took the books and beamed at
Frankie one last time before moving away so the line behind her could step
forward.
“He really does look like Rook,” the next girl to step up said. “The
guy outside? Wow.”
“We didn’t hire anyone,” Frankie confessed.
“Must just be a really serious fan getting into it for Halloween,” the
new girl told him with a shrug.
There were other people dressed in costume sprinkled around the
bookstore, and a few had even been commented on to Frankie already. But
he hadn’t heard anything about the guy out front. He considered asking
Lucy to check it out, then opted against it. Chances were good, if he was a
fan, he’d eventually jump in line to get his signature and Frankie would get
to see him and his cosplay then.
The night kept moving onwards, and Frankie got swept up in the
excitement. Fans hung around by the café, showing off their cupcakes and
cookies and chocolates. Some debated over their favorite characters and
why they were the best, others tried to guess what would happen in this
week's chapter.
Frankie tried not to listen in too closely to the latter—or at least to
not make it obvious that he was. He’d been worried already, but now he had
to admit he was growing more and more nervous about rewriting that
chapter that had gotten deleted. He’d already known how beloved Rook’s
character was, but having physical proof of that love up in his face like this
was…a lot.
But he also didn’t want to waver on his decision; it’d been hard
enough for him to come to the conclusion he needed to kill Rook off in the
first place.
“That was the last one,” Lucy said when the line had finally come to
an end. While there were still people in the bookstore, the crowd had
thinned substantially over the last hour, the sky outside the windows inky
black.
Frankie dropped his pen to the table with a light clatter and stretched
his arms above his head, relishing the way his joints popped. He’d been
sitting in that chair since the sun was still out, and now that he’d been made
aware, he noted his right foot had fallen asleep and the fingers in his left
hand were cramping some.
“Here.” Lucy handed over a cupcake on a tiny plastic plate. “You
haven’t eaten in hours.”
Frankie tried not to grimace at the Rook cupcake, probably would
have gone so far as to ask for a Sage one if there hadn’t still been a few
lingering fans within earshot. Sucking it up, he took the dessert with a smile
and ate it quickly—mostly to get it out of his sight.
How the hell was he supposed to write his death scene again? He
couldn’t even look at a cupcake in the man’s kingdom colors.
The world of Gold and Silver was split into four kingdoms, Gold,
Silver, Bronze, and Iron. The people of Gold could wield and manipulate
daylight, while the people of silver could control moonlight. Sage was the
King of Gold, while Lis was—unbeknownst to him—a princess of Silver.
The people of Bronze had blood magic and were often referred to as
the Demon sect. Rook was one of their princes. Though he’d never made an
appearance in the episodes collected to make Volume One, he’d been
referenced many times as the possible villain both Gold and Silver were out
to stop. By Volume Two, however, they’d realized that Talia Archer, the
Queen of Iron, was their biggest threat.
The people of Iron had control over shadows, and those who were
very powerful could even create beings out of them called the Gloom.
For fun, Frankie had given each of the kingdoms a color to help
represent them, but now, surrounded by spots of Red, he was regretting that
choice. It was almost laughable, how nervous he was about killing off one
of his characters in his own story.
It was what Rook needed too. It was the only way Frankie could see
him being able to die a true hero and not just the antihero. He’d protected
his people and saved the woman he loved as his final moment. It didn’t get
much more heroic than that. Surely readers would see it from that
perspective as well.
Right?
“I’m going to start cleanup,” Lucy told him then, already busily
checking things off a list on the clipboard she always carried around with
her. “Are you going to stick around?”
Frankie only had one class—damn Oceanography—because he’d
been forced to take it again to qualify for his diploma and he’d already
attended it today. His weekend was pretty much free, so there was no real
rush to get home, but…
“I should probably get home and do that rewrite,” he said, and
something about his tone must have clued Lucy in because she stopped
what she’d been doing and turned to him with a frown.
“Hey,” she came over and rested a hand on his arm, “are you having
second thoughts again?”
He snorted. “Always.”
“We’ve talked about this,” she reminded. “Do what you feel is right.
It’s your story, Frankie. You get to decide.”
Technically, there was a meeting every couple of months where he
was asked by the publisher to give them a rough idea of where he thought
the plot was going, but yes, for the most part, she was telling the truth. It
was his story.
“Kind of hard to believe while surrounded by all of this,” he
grumbled, taking a look around.
There was a group of teens, two girls and a guy, huddled in front of
one of the life-size standees of Rook, taking a selfie less than twenty feet
away.
“It’s your fault for making Rook so great,” Lucy teased.
“Is he?” Frankie had always thought he was kind of an ass, but he
could see what Lucy meant. Even he’d fallen victim to Rook’s charms. In
the real world, his type was typically more like Sage’s character, warm and
friendly. But in fiction…He’d never admit it out loud, hadn’t told anyone,
even his roommate and best friend, but he’d had a secret crush on Rook for
ages now.
That was probably another reason it was so hard for him to write
that chapter.
“Did you see the cool costume everyone was talking about?” he
asked, mostly to distract himself. If he started thinking about how much he
liked Rook, it’d be game over. “Apparently someone came dressed like
him.”
“A few people came dressed like him,” Lucy corrected, but he
shook his head.
There’d been costumes, sure, but nothing as realistic as the fans
who’d spoken to Frankie had suggested. It was to be expected, as a Demon
Prince, Rook had a lot going for him in the looks department, including four
massive curved horns, two on each side of the top of his head, black claws,
and a tail. Not the simplest of costumes to put together.
“He supposedly looked like the real deal,” Frankie said.
“I didn’t see him.” Lucy glanced around as if she’d get lucky and
he’d still be there somewhere, letting out a disappointed sigh when there
was nothing. “Bummer. Hopefully he’ll post to social media and tag us.”
She started ordering her workers to help clean, shooing him away when he
tried to help.
Too tired to argue, Frankie said his goodbyes and exited the
bookstore the same way he’d entered, undoing the wolf mask as soon as
he’d made it back to his car and was sure there was no one around. It was a
lot easier than it’d been when he’d arrived, with the parking lot all but dead
by this point, and all of the cars that were there were parked closer to the
front entrance.
He thought about the chapter the entire drive, trying to replay the
exact wording he’d used the first time. As a panster, the type of writer who
didn’t like to overly plot things out, Frankie’s first attempts at a chapter
were always the best. They held more flow and passion, and more often
than not he joked that it was more like he saw a movie playing in his head
and he was merely jotting down everything he saw, instead of creating it
himself. When he wrote, he could hear the characters speaking in their
individual voices. Sometimes, if he was really in it deep, he could even
smell some of the details, like the wet grass of the Hem forest in Bronze,
where Rook and Lis had been meeting before the attack which would result
in his ended life.
Having to write that all again…It wouldn’t be the same. It would
lack something that the original hadn’t. Sort of like how the suspense and
thrill were removed the second time one watched a movie. The first viewing
had mystery and appeal; the second had less since the viewer already knew
what was going to happen.
By the time he’d made it back to his apartment, the frustration had
built up inside him with renewed ferocity. He didn’t want this new version
to be somehow less than the first draft, and he was so lost in his head trying
to replay each and every interaction, that he’d already unlocked his door
before processing he was even home.
That was probably also why he didn’t notice the shadowy figure
looming off to his right until it was too late.
Thinking it was merely a trick of the light, he frowned and turned,
expecting to find it was nothing more than the bush, blinking when instead
the shrouded outline of a large body started to form.
Frankie opened his mouth—either to scream or ask who was there,
he honestly wasn’t sure which—but a large hand shot from the darkness,
sealing over his lips. With a strength that had his heart plummeting to his
ankles, his attacker shoved him backward, underneath the threshold and
into his apartment.
His heel caught on the edge of the throw rug in the hallway and he
stumbled, landing with a solid whack on his ass. Pain radiated up his spine.
The shadowy finger eased his way in after him, slowly, like he had
all the time in the world. The door clicked shut behind him, and after a brief
pause, he reached out and tapped the light switch on the left wall.
The overhead light flickered to life, bright golden beams
illuminating Frankie’s attacker instantly.
Frankie’s mouth dropped open, the world coming to a fuzzy
standstill as his mind struggled to piece together what he was seeing.
“Rook?”

Find this book and other works by Chani Lynn Feener on Amazon!
 HIS DARK PARADOX
By Avery Tu & Kota Quinn

A Dark MM Sci-Fi Romance. Same trigger warnings apply as in The

Whisper Trilogy, so please keep that in mind.
Nuri Narek has known the Emperor of Ignite, Silver Rien, since they were kids. As the CEO of Rien
Inc. Silver keeps busy now that the two of them are adults, but one thing about him hasn’t changed.
He keeps Nuri close, at all times.

Working as his secretary, Nuri is long overdue for a vacation, so when he finds out the Emperor has
canceled his without informing him, it’s the last straw.

But Silver Rien has a dark secret he keeps hidden from the world, a secret Nuri thought he
understood. He was wrong.

Silver isn’t about to let Nuri leave him, and he’ll do everything and anything in his power to ensure
Nuri ends up his in every way imaginable.
 PROLOGUE:

There was a psychopath on the throne.

Nuri kept his hands folded in front of him, his expression docile to
help hide his swirling thoughts as the ceremony progressed to the speech
portion. He stood on the large stage, at the far back in a row of others on the
royal staff, looking out over a massive crowd.
Reporters flooded the front, cameras flashing, lighting up the
otherwise dimly lit throne room. The middle and back of the crowd were
made up of important people in the government, such as the generals and
the high council, as well as the upper-level employees of Rien Inc., the
largest technologies corporation in the Euphorion Galaxy.
The CEO, and newly crowned emperor, stood at the front of the
stage, currently in the midst of his speech about how he plans on following
in his father’s footsteps to ensure Ignite remained the universe’s top
technologically advanced planet. His smile was charming as he spoke, his
inflection upbeat and confident. When Nuri glanced back at the giant screen
displayed behind them, showing the blown-up live footage of the new
emperor, even he was almost convinced they’d gotten a caring, and devoted
ruler.
But he knew better.
The speech may flow perfectly and genuinely from Silver Rien’s
perfectly sculpted lips, but Nuri had been the one who’d written each and
every word of it. Silver smiled like he was honored to be there, humbled
even, but he’d been complaining to Nuri all morning about how ridiculous
and irrelevant having an official ceremony was.
As the only child of the late Emperor Sij, there weren’t exactly any
other candidates around to take the throne. The crown was always going to
be his, whether they broadcast him accepting the crown or not.
Silver had always been like that. If it wasn’t work-related, he didn’t
care, and it was rare to get him to partake in anything he didn’t care about.
The only reason he was even here now and hadn’t gone through with trying
to cancel the entire thing was because Nuri had reminded him how
important this all was to his late father.
Nuri hadn’t been certain it would work when he had, was actually a
bit surprised that it’d changed Silver’s mind, but he wasn’t going to
overthink it. What mattered was they were here, on stage, in front of the
entire planet—and much of the galaxy, since it was being broadcast
throughout—and Silver was now officially the Emperor of Ignite.
Which meant Nuri had fulfilled his promise to Sij Rien.
His resignation letter burned in his jacket pocket, almost as if he
could feel the thin paper searing over his heart. It was rare to write things
on physical paper now, but he’d wanted to be sure there was proof that
couldn’t be deleted. Something tangible he could place down on Silver’s
desk later.
Nuri Narek was quitting.
Silver wrapped up his speech and Nuri clapped along with the rest
of the crowd on autopilot. He’d been planning this day out for months, ever
since they’d been told that Emperor Sij’s health was deteriorating and he
didn’t have much longer to live.
When Nuri had been a desperate youth, he’d made a deal with Sij
for the betterment of his family. Now that they’d all moved off planet and it
was just him remaining, there was no reason for him to stick around other
than his job. He’d been unable to quit beforehand, but now that his promise
had been met, there was nothing left to hold him back.
As soon as the ceremony was over and the two of them were back at
the office, he’d hand in his resignation letter and that would be that. Most of
his belongings had already been packed, his desk left neat and tidy for the
next person who was assigned his position. He’d carefully organized all
information about how to do his job in a digital information packet that he
would send directly to the main office once he’d left. Since he’d been the
secretary to a Crown Prince, and now Silver was an emperor, he assumed
duties would alter, and the best thing to do was leave before that happened
and made things even more complicated for when he eventually left.
Because he would be leaving. Nuri had already decided. No matter
how secretly scared he was about starting a new life elsewhere, or how his
heart clenched whenever he thought about not seeing Silver every day, he
was going.
He had to.
 Security went to escort Silver off the stage, Nuri and the others there
falling into line to exit with him. Before they’d taken more than three steps,
however, the lights in the room flickered, followed swiftly by a piercing
sound through the loudspeakers.
He slapped his hands over his ears and cringed, almost knocking the
thin wire-rimmed glasses off his face in the process. The images on the
screen behind him changed, going from them on the stage to footage of a
hospital room.
The room was three times the size of a regular hospital room,
spacious and filled with sunlight that lit up the pale blue walls. The soft
humming of machines came through the speakers, but aside from that there
were no other sounds. It was clear this wasn’t a recording meant to expose
something anyone had said anyway. It was meant to expose someone in
another way.
The late emperor was lying unconscious in the bed, hooked up to the
machines. Even with their advancements in the medical field, his doctors
had exhausted all possible solutions to his illness and he was succumbing to
it quickly. His skin was sallow and his hair, which was usually a thick, deep
brown, had gone completely white on his head. Sticking out, two shiny dark
blue horns protruded.
As a Swift, snow-white hair and horns were normal. But not during
the day. It was the biggest sign of them all that Sij was dying, and it was
being broadcast to the entire galaxy right now. His final moments laid bare.
Nuri felt sick.
The reason this video was being shown became apparent, however,
and it wasn’t to expose how weak the once proud and strong ruler of Ignite
had become in the end.
Silver was in the room as well, standing next to the bed, arms lax at
his side. The camera had captured his expression perfectly, all of his
features clear to those viewing the video.
He was staring down at his dying father, his last surviving family
member completely blank-faced. There was nothing in his eyes, no sadness,
no worry or grief. He could have been staring at a wall for all the emotion
he was showing.
Nuri took in the navy suit Silver was wearing, the one with the thin
golden pinstripes, and gasped, recalling the last time he’d worn that
particular outfit.
 “Get that down now!” he ordered, tearing his gaze away from the
screen as he shot into motion. He rushed toward the steps on the side of the
stage, intent on making his way to the operations room to put an end to it
himself, but was stopped.
Silver grabbed his arm, holding him still when he tried to pull free.
“We need to stop the video,” Nuri told him, voice dropping into a
frantic whisper. “It’s—”
“Too late,” Silver cut him off, motioning toward the screen with his
chin.
Turning back, Silver sucked in a breath, seeing that he was right.
A second after his eyes made contact, the machines went wild,
blaring and beeping with flashing lights. A medical team appeared, racing
over toward his bed even though they all had to know there was nothing
that could be done at this point. One of the nurses urged Silver to step away
and give them room and after a brief hesitation, he complied.
The sound of the late emperor flat-lining came next, an eerie, steady
noise that seemed to fill up the throne room they were standing in. This was
footage of the day Sij had died, an event that had taken place two weeks
ago.
Because it was footage taken from the security cameras, there was
no way for whoever was airing this to zoom in, but they didn’t have to.
Even with all the frantic motions of the doctor and nurses, the second
Silver’s expression changed it stood out.
Silver Rien, the Imperial Crown Prince of Ignite, stared at his dying
father…and grinned.
The room erupted, the reporters who’d only just been nodding their
praises for Silver’s speech now turning their microphones and cameras on
him demanding answers. Voices carried over voices, drowning out any
discernable words as the footage on the screen froze in that spot, as if
whoever was illegally showing it wanted to be extra sure everyone got a
glimpse of Silver’s expression.
Someone wanted the world to know that their new emperor wasn’t
as charming and altruistic as he’d led them all to believe.
Nuri swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and turned his head to
meet Silver’s gaze, pausing when he found that the new emperor was
already looking back at him.
 “Well?” Silver asked coolly. “Aren’t you going to do something
about this, Royal Secretary Narek?”
In his pocket, his carefully crafted resignation letter seemed to laugh
at him.
 CHAPTER 1:

“I’m going to be a few days late, I’m sorry.” Nuri braced himself for
the annoyance and the disappointment, two things he seemed to constantly
illicit in his younger sibling whenever he found the time to call her.
Sure enough, Neve groaned, the sound filling Nuri’s right ear where
his communicator was located.
It was tempting to tap the tiny silver cuff he wore there, the
communication device that wirelessly connected to the multi-slate he wore
on his wrist, and tell her later that he’d been disconnected. Only the fact
that he’d used that trick more times than he could count stopped him.
“You promised!” Neve whined.
“I know, I really am sorry, but work—”
“You said that last year, and the year before. This was the first time
you were even going to make it and now you’re saying the seven days we
were supposed to get is turning into two?! It’s always work. That’s why you
were supposed to quit the second that Imperial Asshole—”
“Don’t say that,” he scolded, glancing around him to be certain no
one nearby had overheard. With the way these devices were made, it should
be impossible, but he found himself paranoid whenever his siblings were
the subject. Her comment could be considered treasonous, and even though
she was currently on Ark, an entirely different planet, Nuri knew better than
most that Silver could get to anyone he wanted to. If word got back to him
that his younger sister had spoken ill of him…
“You’re ridiculous,” Neve told him.
“Putting your life at risk to blow off a little steam is ridiculous,” he
corrected. He was in the west hallway of Rien Inc’s main building. A few
office workers passed him, bowing their heads as they went, and he was
walking by a room filled with researchers. Plenty of ears around to note his
discomfort if they paid attention.
Nuri forced himself to calm down, his expression going lax as he
evened out his steps and continued on his way with his head held high. As
the emperor’s secretary, everything he did, right down to the way he
presented himself to the world, reflected on Silver. It was a lesson he’d
learned at a young age before either of them had even finished High School.
No matter his official title, whether he was the roommate to the
Imperial Crown Prince, the secretary to the CEO of Rien Inc, or the Royal
Secretary to the Emperor, Nuri always had to be vigilant of himself and his
presentation.
“It’s not like I’m wrong,” Neve continued in his ear, completely
unaware of the turn of his thoughts. “He’s worked you to the bone since you
were kids. Enough is enough, brother. You said you were going to quit.”
He’d been planning to. A year ago, after the crowning, he’d been all
ready to go through with it. But then the broadcast had been hacked, and
that video had been revealed to the public, and Silver’s character had been
called into question.
While the people of Ignite couldn’t de-throne him, they could
remove him from his position as CEO at Rien Inc, the very company he’d
built from the ground up. Silver’s contributions to the technology field had
put the Ignite on the entire universe’s radar. The already prosperous planet
had tripled its worth practically overnight when the release of his first
invention hit the markets.
The translator device that was currently attached to Nuri’s other ear
was worn by practically everyone who dealt with international dealings, as
well as used by the Intergalactic Police Force. It allowed immediate
translation of any language to the wearers without needing a multi-slate.
Like the communicator, it processed the translated words through
vibrations, so that what the wearer heard were words spoken in their own
language.
Since many of their partnerships took place with other planets, many
not even in their galaxy, the translator was immensely useful to Nuri and
the people working jobs like his.
It certainly made cleaning up after his boss a million times easier.
Nuri had been there, through every late-night session, picking up the
notes Silver had left strewn about their living room when they’d roomed
together in college, sorting through the information as best he could to be of
some use. He’d listened when Silver had needed someone to bounce ideas
off of, and though he hadn’t given much advice, he’d still always felt like
he’d been an intrinsic part of the creation of this first device and Rien Inc in
general.
Which meant there was no way he could have walked away when
Silver was at risk of losing it all. So he’d gone into business mode,
organizing a hunt for the perpetrator who’d hacked into the hospital systems
and stolen the footage, speaking with the local detectives, and taking phone
calls to do damage control.
They’d spun the story, painting Silver as a man overwhelmed by
grief and had reacted in the moment. Though that reaction was different
from what was typical of someone in his situation, everyone grieved
differently, and it was horrible to attack him for the way he went about it.
Nuri had added in a comment here and there about how Silver had been
mostly grateful toward his father for fighting the illness as long as he had,
and had been trying to sooth the grief with the knowledge that at least his
father was no longer in pain.
It’d been a good front if he did say so himself, but the media had
only mostly bought it at first. It’d taken another week for Nuri to convince
Silver he needed to make a public statement to show everyone that it was
true and prove to them that he did feel sadness at having lost his father.
Only the two of them could know that wasn’t the case.
Within five minutes of talking, Silver won any lingering disbelievers
over and the dust had settled in that department.
But there’d still been the matter of finding the culprit. Nuri had been
in close contact with those in charge of the investigation and had combed
through all employees at the hospital and at the event who would have had
contact with the computers storing the footage and attached to the broadcast
screen. The hospital footage should have been deleted right after the
emperor’s death, and yet someone had gotten their hands on it, which had
thrown them all for a loop.
It wasn’t until another six months had passed that they finally got a
lead. An ex-employee of Silver’s, one who’d been fired at the start of the
company’s first year, had been caught and confessed. He was currently
being held in the Sept Royal Prison on a treason charge that would see him
kept there for at least another twenty years.
Nuri had intended to dust off his resignation letter after the trial,
but…Then there’d been an issue with one of their vendors and he’d been
sent to the other side of the planet to deal with it. And after that, there’d
been a problem with a part in customs…A never-ending string of things had
happened, one after the other, and before he’d realized he was back to doing
his job as per usual, with thoughts of quitting pushed so far to the back
recesses of his mind they rarely resurfaced unless he was talking with one
of his siblings.
Like right now.
“We’re in the middle of a big project,” he said, painfully aware of
how he sounded. “I can’t leave right now.”
“Sure, and once this project ends, there will be another. And another.
And another. It’s never going to stop, brother.” Neve sighed, her
disappointment in him apparent. “You aren’t the CEO or the Emperor.”
“Of course not.” He made it to the end of the hall and paused in
front of the elevator. At his feet, the tiny glass orb that was always with him
came to a stop as well. It sent a signal to the elevator so that Nuri didn’t
have to worry about figuring out how to push the button with his hands full,
and they waited.
The orb was also a product released by Rien Inc., known as N.I.M.
It stood for Networking Intelligence Machine—not Silver’s finest moment
when it came to naming but Nuri wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that
—and was an A.I assistant. It could access most computer-operated systems
in under a second and was programmed to function fully within all
buildings run by Rien Inc.
N.I.M. also had access to Nuri’s multi-slate, making it easier for him
to get tasks done with the help of the orb, and was voice-activated to ensure
that no one else could ever steal and use him. There were other handy
functions, but not all of the N.I.M had them. As a prototype, this particular
one had been crafted more toward Nuri’s personal needs. After testing out
what worked and didn’t, his feedback had been used to help mold the
official, publicly released product that made it to market.
After the trials, he’d tried to give it back to Silver, but the emperor
had merely waved him off and told him to keep it, too distracted over notes
for his next invention to even glance Nuri’s way during the discussion.
Admittedly, Nuri was pretty glad. He’d grown attached to N.I.M in
the two months the trial had run for, and now six months later, he was even
more so. Even though he knew logically that N.I.M wasn’t a living being,
he’d connected with the AI on a level his job prevented him from doing
with actual people. Hell, the only real friends he had were his siblings, and
he hadn’t even seen them in over two years.
“I’m still coming, I promise.” He knew how important it was for her
that be there. Neve was going to be graduating from college with honors
and it was a big deal.
“You’re missing the entire ceremony,” she said.
He’d tried his best, but there was really no way around it. The
original plan had been for him to show up three days before so they could
catch up, then attend her graduation and have a few days after to go over
her career options. His vacation had been logged and set for over four
months now, and yet an issue had arisen and Nuri had been tasked with
taking care of it. As the CEO’s secretary, it was his job. What would it look
like if he refused and went off on holiday anyway, leaving the company in a
lurch? He couldn’t do that.
“But I’ll still be there to help you figure out your next step and write
up your resume. Are you still considering Lica?” His sister had gone to
school for medical engineering, and Lica was the top hospital that did
research work this side of the galaxy. It also happened to be located on Ark,
which was the major reason she and their brother Nate had relocated there
in the first place. “I’ve worked with a couple of members of staff during my
business trips there. I can put in—”
“Save the nepotism,” she stated. “You have to come. You have to.
Promise?”
The elevator dinged and he and N.I.M entered, the button for the top
floor turning orange as soon as they were safely inside thanks to the A.I.
“I promise,” he said, softening his tone. “You know I want to see
you just as badly. I wouldn’t miss the ceremony if it wasn’t important, and
Nate swore he would film the whole thing for me.”
“You promised,” she reminded sternly.
“Yes, I know. I promised.” And Nuri never broke a promise, that
was half the reason he was here, in an elevator heading up to the CEO’s
office instead of at home packing for the trip he’d been meant to go on
starting tomorrow.
“Fair warning,” she told him just as the elevator made it to the top
floor and the doors began to open, “I fully intend to kidnap you once you’re
here so bring anything valuable with you because if he wants you back, the
Ignite Emperor is going to have to pry you out of my cold dead hands.”
 “That’s not even remotely funny—Hello? Neve?” He blew out a
breath and took a second to hang his head and inwardly swear, needing to
collect himself before he made his way down the long white hallway. Once
he was sure he’d gotten his emotions under control, he stepped out, ducking
his head into the side office where the team of secretaries who all fell under
him worked. He said a quick hello and continued on his way.
His office was a small section in what was really the waiting area of
Silver’s. There was a door on the opposite side that separated it from his
main office, and that door was closed when Nuri entered. He set the boxes
he’d been holding down on his small desk first, and while he did that,
N.I.M. rolled over to its charging station beneath the window. Then he
headed over to the door and knocked. He didn’t wait for a response, tapping
the panel at the side of the door so that it would slide open for him.
When he was working, Silver more often than not tuned out the
world around him, so it was unheard of for him to not even hear the sound
of someone knocking on the door. Still, no one else was allowed to just
enter at their own whimsy aside from Nuri, a trust he’d had to build over
the course of many years living together at Brightly Boarding school where
they’d been sent for high school.
Sure enough, Silver was at his large mahogany desk, hunched over a
tablet. He was wearing silver earbuds, a sign he was listening to something
as he flicked his fingers deftly over the screen. His suit jacket had been
placed over the back of his dark gray chair, the silky material a deep
crimson shade. His vest and dress shirt were both inky black, and he’d
undone his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows.
Outside, the blizzard had gotten worse, thick flakes of snow
blocking out most of the natural light, casting everything within the room in
a somber gray. Aside from the light from the tablet, none of the others had
been turned on despite the impending darkness, but Nuri knew better than
to do it himself.
Instead, he came to a stop in front of the desk, clasped his hands in
front of himself, and waited. After a moment of going unnoticed, he
allowed his gaze to drift back toward the wide floor-to-ceiling window that
took up the entire center of the left wall.
The view was spectacular as high up as they were, a great shot of
the bustling city and the nearby skyscrapers. Right now, with the storm
going and only growing more intense with every passing minute, most
colors had been blotted out. The ground roads were going to be a mess even
with street cleaner bots plowing, and the skies…The air police were going
to have a lot of accidents to deal with if they left it open much longer.
Hovercars were the most popular mode of transportation, but on a planet
like Ignite where it could snow fourteen out of the sixteen months of the
year, most people owned vehicles that were both ground and sky
operational.
Nuri wondered what the weather was like on Ark right now, he
hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Neve. Having grown up here, she knew how
to handle herself in the cold, so there was no need for him to worry about
her or Nate being safe. And besides, blizzards weren’t nearly as common on
that planet as they were on this one.
The person he should be worried for was himself. Maybe instead of
risking it, he should sleep in the office instead. It wouldn’t be the first
time…
“When did you get here?” Silver sounded disinterested, and when
Nuri glanced over, it was to find him still engrossed with his tablet.
“We should consider allowing everyone to leave early,” he said, not
bothering to answer the question.
“Why?”
“The storm is getting pretty bad.”
“And?” Silver set his tablet down only to turn his attention to his
multi-slate, the bodyborn computer most people strapped to their wrists.
The device acted as a computer and phone, connecting with the
communication devices worn at the ear. It was unheard of to find a citizen
even ten years or older who didn’t have one. He opened his emails and
began to check them as he waited for a reply from Nuri.
“If it continues to worsen, there’s a real risk of accidents,” Nuri said.
“I’m not sure how that’s my problem?” To anyone else, it might
sound flippant, but Nuri had been around Silver long enough to understand
that he was legitimately asking for an explanation.
There were very few people on the planet, or in the entire universe,
that Silver actually cared about, and even less than that he could empathize
with. Empathy just wasn’t something he was capable of, a secret kept from
the public with a tight grip. The released hospital footage had been the
closest he’d ever come to being exposed, and fortunately, there’d been no
other events since then.
 To the outside world, Emperor Silver Rien was a young
entrepreneur who happened to be the only living heir to the Ignite Throne.
He was a tech billionaire and had been since the age of twenty, and now
eight years later, he managed to not only run the leading technologies
company in the universe but also now ruled a planet. People flocked to his
charming smile and friendly disposition when he was at charity events or
galas.
Those who were forced to work in close proximity to him on a daily
basis knew better. Hell, the whole reason Nuri had been brought on in the
first place had been to help keep the unruly, and frankly violent, teenaged
Silver in check. After he’d threatened to break all of the bones in his old
roommate's hands if he didn’t stop snoring, the school had hit its limits. Not
even being an Imperial Prince had been enough for them to keep him on as
things were.
Nuri had been hand selected by the Emperor for the job, basically
left there to babysit and help Silver keep his urges and his anger in check.
There’d been one or two mishaps here and there, of course, but aside from
those, he’d done such a good job that practically no one even recalled how
Silver used to show up in the tabloids every other week for his violent
streaks.
“If someone important gets hurt,” Nuri explained, “like someone
working on the Midas project for example, that could cause a major setback
in our schedule.”
Finally, Silver paused, considering those words before he set his arm
down and gave Nuri his full attention.
As always, having that undivided attention was like having a jolt of
electricity zapped through his entire body, and Nuri had to pay extra mind
to keep his expression blank and his spine straight. His heart felt like it
flipped in his chest and he inwardly cursed himself and his reaction.
The truth of the matter was, he was a bit shallow. Silver wasn’t the
catch everyone else believed him to be, and Nuri knew it. He was difficult
and self-centered and incredibly cold. It was impossible to guess what he
was capable of or how far he’d push someone’s boundaries because for him,
other people’s wants and wishes didn’t even come into consideration.
Silver cared about what Silver cared about and the rest of the world
could burn for all he’d notice.
Not exactly great romantic material.
 And, it wasn’t like Nuri wanted to date him or anything anyway. No,
he just liked the way the other man looked. Because he had eyes.
Silver had graced more than one magazine cover in his day, and that
was only partially because of his high-standing position in society. Even if
he’d been a nobody on the streets, someone would have plucked him from
the pavement and put him on a glossy cover. Gorgeous was an
understatement.
In the daytime, Silver’s hair was silky black. He wore it short on the
sides, with his bangs swept off his face. More often than not, like right now,
they dropped over his right eye anyway, with him too focused on work to
even notice. His eyes were a dark amethyst, cold and calculating most of
the time, with long sooty lashes. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and full,
rounded lips were the icing on the cake.
Even when he was working he was dressed in a three-piece suit,
today’s reminding Nuri of the devilish nature that could rear its head at a
moment's notice. Sometimes those little reminders were nice to have
because Silver could fool just about anyone into believing he was calm and
collected, even Nuri on occasion.
At night, Silver’s Swift nature took over and the dark locks turned to
almost glittery silver-white. His eyes lightened somewhat, to more of a
lavender shade with a ring of gold around them, and curved dark blue horns
sprouted on his head. It was the look of all Swifts, which made up about
twenty percent of the population on Ignite.
Not many people got to see this side of him as he only attended
nighttime events when absolutely necessary, and the change only happened
once he’d been hit by moonlight. If he did go out at night, he was careful to
avoid that happening, making sure to keep shielded by an umbrella,
typically carried by Nuri, until he made it safely into the event. Not all
Swifts were that secretive or protective of their second images, but for
Silver, discretion had always been of utmost importance, as it was for most
of the Imperial family for the past hundred years or so.
Another reason why having that video broadcast had been so bad.
It’d been an insult to the late emperor, even if the target had been his
grandson. Up until then, there’d only ever been one photograph of Sij Rien
in his Swift form made public and it’d been taken when he’d been in his
mid-twenties and had let his guard down while out with friends.
 “Secretary Narek,” Silver called him, snapping him out of his
spinning thoughts.
“Yes, sorry what was that?” Nuri cleared his throat.
“I asked what the real reason is.”
He frowned. “Real reason, sir?”
“The one you just gave was clearly tailored to me.” Silver waved at
him and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers before him. “What’s
the reason you would have given most people if asked the same question?”
It was rare for Silver to care about such things, and for a second
Nuri was thrown before he got a hold of himself.
“Generally, people care about other people’s safety, especially if
they know them.”
“I don’t know them,” Silver said, only to have Nuri shake his head.
“You do because they’re your employees. That makes a connection
between you and them, and as the boss, their wellbeing should be
something you take into consideration.”
He made an absent noise. “That sounds tedious and like a complete
waste of my energy.”
“Yes well, that’s what normal people do, sir.”
Silver’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but Nuri caught it and
dipped his chin.
“Forgive me, sir. That was a poor word choice on my part.” He kept
his eyes down until he heard Silver rise a moment later, then he straightened
and watched as the Emperor reached for the heavy charcoal coat hung on
the coat rack in the corner between the window and desk.
“Send an email to the department heads letting them know to release
everyone early,” Silver ordered as he slipped on his coat.
“I’ll go do that now.” Nuri exited and headed over to his own desk,
tapping on the flat-screen computer he had. Using his multi-slate as the
keyboard, he quickly drafted a message to everyone in the building and sent
it, waiting for the boxes next to each name to turn from blue to red to
indicate the messages had been opened. The final box had just been
checked when Silver walked in and shut his office door behind him.
“Hurry up,” he said, glancing at Nuri and noting that he still wasn’t
dressed to leave.
He grabbed his cream-colored coat and tossed it on, then bent down
to retrieve N.I.M from its charging station. When the weather was good, he
let the A.I. roam ahead of them, but since there was already at least half a
foot of snow outside, he shoved the glass orb into his front pocket. Since all
the important documents he needed to go over tonight had been sent to his
multi-slate already, there was nothing else he needed.
Silver seemed to sense the moment Nuri was ready, making his way
toward the hallway without another word. He didn’t even wait to be
followed, his long legs eating up space as he moved toward the elevator. At
six feet three inches, he was a lot taller than Nuri’s five’ nine”, a fact he
often forgot when the two of them were walking together, forcing Nuri to
jog now and again just to keep up.
He huffed before he could help it then hiked his coat collar up
around his face, already preparing for the cold front outside as he met Silver
at the elevator just as the doors pinged and slid open. The two of them
stepped inside and from within his pocket, N.I.M activated the button for
the parking garage.
Silver’s car was kept in a separate section from the other employees,
one that had far more security around it. Nuri was allowed to park there as
well on the days he drove separately, though that wasn’t as frequently as he
would have liked. He’d only just moved out before the death of Sij, and had
finally convinced Silver to allow him to drive his own vehicle too and from
work around that time as well.
After losing his father and taking on the role of Emperor, Silver had
tightened the leash yet again. It’d been a fight between the two of them
when Nuri had refused to move back to the Imperial Estate where Silver
lived, and he’d had to compromise by allowing the other man to pick him
up before work on most days. In Silver’s defense, going from Crown Prince
to Emperor had meant a lot of big changes, and he’d needed help to
navigate all of his new duties.
Silver had never wanted to be Emperor, and the fact the job was
more a chore for him than anything meant he approached it with even more
indifference than he did the safety of his employees driving in a massive
snowstorm. Nuri was the one who kept him in check, reminding him about
the importance of keeping things running smoothly. He’d helped Silver
select officials to take over important government roles that they both knew
Silver would never have made time for, and at the end of the week when the
reports came in, Nuri and Silver went over them together over dinner.
 Well, Nuri went over them and passed on any information he
deemed important, in any case.
When they made it to the garage a gust of icy hair slapped against
Nuri’s cheeks and he paused just within the elevator. Perhaps he should go
back upstairs and revisit the idea of sleeping on the couch in the waiting
area of the office.
“Standing there won’t make you warm any faster,” Silver chided,
already heading toward his car. It was a sleek neon yellow racer, with only
the two front seats and a bench seat in the back that almost no one could fit
in. The model had only been on the market for a week now, and the price
was astronomical, to the point that even being one of the richest planets in
the universe, only one percent of Igna’s could even dream of affording to
purchase one of their own.
Silver had gotten his the day of release and had refused to allow
anyone else to go near it, let alone drive it. He’d given his driver a month-
long holiday in fact, so for the past couple of weeks it’d been just him and
Nuri on the drives to and from work, with Silver dropping him off at his
apartment like he was the employer instead of the other way around.
It’d made Nuri uncomfortable at first, but when Silver had ordered
him briskly to “get used to it” Nuri had gritted his teeth and shoved those
feelings aside. The Emperor wanted to drop him off at home every night
like his driver? Fine. That was his prerogative, Nuri would simply lean back
and enjoy the ride.
Silver reached the car first, sliding into the driver's seat. He turned it
on while he waited for Nuri to join him, then reversed them into the lot fast
enough that Nuri’s skull almost connected with the passenger window.
“I’m not even buckled yet,” he mumbled before he could help it,
stilling when Silver chuckled at his side, clearly having heard him.
“The cold always makes you ill-mannered.” Silver pulled them out
on the street, keeping to the ground roads, the car hovering about two feet
off the snow-covered pavement as they traveled away from the building.
Nuri only realized they weren’t going the right way after he’d
secured his seatbelt and sat back. With a frown, he turned to Silver, but the
Emperor bet him to it.
“We’re going home,” Silver told him, leaving no room for argument.
Still, Nuri was tempted to point out that the estate was Silver’s home
and not his, but then the Emperor flicked the heat onto full blast, and the
gusts of warmth against Nuri’s frozen cheeks had him sighing contentedly.
He decided it was an argument that wasn’t worth having and let it
go.
 CHAPTER 2:

In high school, when they’d returned from breaks, Nuri had been
allowed to spend time with his family. He’d gone home to the downtown
two-bedroom apartment he’d shared with his two siblings, and Silver had
returned here. During that time, he’d been given not only a break from
school but from having to take responsibility for the Imperial Crown Prince
as well.
Then they’d reached college, and attended EK U., one of the most
prestigious schools on the planet, paid in full by Sij Rien. Since the tuition
was three times the amount it’d been for the private high school, Nuri had
found himself unable to reject Sij when he’d been asked to take a room in
the estate and accompany Silver home during school breaks as well. He’d
been given some leave to meet with his siblings, but it hadn’t been the
same.
It’d been almost a decade since he’d lived with his family properly,
and while usually he was far too busy for daunting thoughts such as those to
fill his headspace, Nuri woke the next morning feeling melancholy. Maybe
it was a mixture of how drab it was outside and the call he’d had with Neve
yesterday, but he got ready for the day as if going through the motions, one
minute lying in the four-poster bed in his assigned room in the East wing
and the next standing in the hallway fully dressed.
He’d thrown on the first suit he could find, a plain black with a
white dress shirt underneath. His multi-slate had already been set to work
mode, and N.I.M was rolling down the hallway, almost at the wide stairwell
that led straight to the main level. The AI began plopping down the steps, as
if it didn’t care that Nuri wasn’t right behind it.
It didn’t, he reminded himself as he sighed. The AI didn’t have
feelings. It could communicate with him using a series of beeps and
whistles that he mostly understood now, and it had long since learned his
patterns and habits and could usually guess what Nuri wanted even before
he knew himself. But that didn’t mean it felt things.
 How could it, when its creator didn’t understand emotions himself?
The bitter thought toward Silver made Nuri feel a tiny inkling of
guilt and he ran a hand over his face as he descended the steps. There were
moments when he wished he could strangle the Emperor and other
moments where he was admittedly terrified of him, but those reactions
never came without prompting. It wasn’t fair for him to be angry toward
Silver over his own feelings. It may have been because of him that Nuri had
to push his plans with his sister, but it wasn’t technically his fault.
Neve’s words about quitting flashed through his mind as he entered
the foyer and turned down a side hall that would lead to the dining room.
The estate had been decorated a hundred years ago by Silver’s
Grandmother, and much of it had remained the same since then. Marble
statues were set in corners, some of Swift’s, others of regular Igna. A few
had been crafted after the likeness of someone important, but others were
merely artistic pieces his grandmother had taken a fancy to.
The walls were done in marble as well, a smooth, light gray that was
almost white, with streaks of lavender and violet throughout. Swifts always
had white hair and blue horns, but their eye colors varied, and the Rien
family had been known for their purple ones for generations. Everything
was gilded in silver and polished to a shine, details that Nuri seldom noticed
anymore.
He was burnt out and needed a break. It felt like ever since the issue
at the crowning ceremony it’d been one thing after the other. He couldn’t
even recall the last time he’d had a full weekend off, let alone a day. Every
time it rolled around, Silver would assign something new, or plan a business
trip the two of them absolutely had to take. Nuri was exhausted and he
feared it was beginning to show.
Perhaps he should have insisted he leave for his trip on time after
all. Surely Silver could get on without him for a few days, and while the
project was important, it wasn’t like Nuri held that much power over
whether or not things got done.
Although…he was the one who kept in touch with all the main
components, contacting them and playing messenger between them all,
each other, and Silver, despite everyone wearing a perfectly acceptable
multi-slate with top communication functions.
“Are you all right, Master Narek?” Falc met Nuri at the doors to the
dining room, startling him out of his dejected thoughts.
 Falc was in his mid-sixties and had been with the family his entire
life. His hair was graying and he had an intense presence about him that
used to make Nuri feel like he’d made a mistake whenever the older man
would approach him. That’d been back when he’d been a kid, however, and
things between them now were rather normal. If anything, sometimes Nuri
felt Falc was the only other person on the planet who understood the
difficulties he went through thanks to the Emperor.
“Yes,” he forced a smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes, “just
tired.”
Silver was already seated at the table when Nuri entered. He had his
tablet out and was scrolling through what was most likely the news. There
was a plate of mostly untouched food in front of him and an empty coffee
cup. His hair had been styled in the usual fashion, and he appeared well-
rested. The suit he’d chosen was one the color of his namesake.
Taking the seat across from him, Nuri waited for the maid over his
shoulder to refill Silver’s cup before speaking. “Good morning.”
Silver hummed a reply, lifting his cup without glancing at it to gulp
down half the contents in one go.
The dining had originally been designed to host dinner parties, with
a long white table with navy blue trim and floor-to-ceiling curtains made of
spun gold. They’d been pulled from the three lancet windows, all of which
overlooked the South gardens. The snow was still coming down in droves,
making it impossible to see much of anything outside, but during their brief
Spring, it was Nuri’s favorite view in the whole estate.
“I adjusted the timetable for the marketing department,” Nuri said as
he took in the spread on the table and began selecting what he felt like
eating. Even though it was just the two of them at the table that could seat
sixteen, there were several packed dishes to choose from.
The cooks had long since learned their lesson where Silver was
concerned, and knew it was best to always offer him up a variety unless he
specifically requested something. His mood was too mercurial, no one
could ever guess what he’d feel like eating.
“I also spoke with sales last night. Tir is still the top-selling product
on the market. So long as the numbers remain steady, we’ll make double
our monthly quota. As soon as marketing begins the promotion for Link,
it’s estimated sales will rise again anyway.” Nuri took a break to eat a strip
of thur, a thinly sliced meat that was fried in a flaky batter and smothered in
berry jam. It happened to be his favorite and was one of the few bright sides
of being forced to spend the night here. “Royal Ike would like for you to
contact him before the week is through, and Mr. Hill from accounting has
requested a meeting.”
“Enough,” Silver stated, setting his tablet down on the table with a
light clicking sound. The look he sent Nuri was one of annoyance as he
lifted his coffee cup a second time and drained the rest of its contents.
Nuri frowned, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Going
over the schedule was typically how they began their days, whether they
were here or in the car on the way to work, and while Silver wasn’t all that
fond of Royal Ike, it wasn’t like it was Nuri’s fault the man wanted to speak
with him.
“Eat.” Silver ordered, motioning with his chin toward Nuri’s mostly
empty plate.
He grabbed a slice of toast and dutifully took a bite, chewing and
swallowing under the Emperor’s scrutiny.
Satisfied he was listening, Silver picked his tablet back up and
resumed reading as if the whole ordeal hadn’t happened at all.
Nuri must not be the only one having a bad morning, he surmised,
glad that he could be left alone with his thoughts a bit longer and just enjoy
the hot food. Inside the mansion, the temperature was carefully regulated,
but every time he glanced over Silver’s shoulders at the windows he
inadvertently shivered.
There were few things Nuri disliked more than the cold, ironic,
considering he’d been born on a planet that was considered a winter
wonderland to the rest of the galaxy. People took ski vacations here all the
time, tourists swarming both the major cities and rural areas of Ignite, lining
the locals' pockets with even more coin. It was cold here, but it was also
prosperous, so Nuri couldn’t really complain, especially since as a
secretary, he was rarely forced to spend more than a few minutes at a time
outside when the weather was bad.
N.I.M bumped into Nuri’s foot and he glanced down to see the tiny
orb light up green from within, indicating there was a company-wide
message that’d just been sent. Frowning, he twisted his wrist and opened
his email. He hadn’t sent anything—
He blinked at the message and the name signed at the bottom. It was
brief, only a single sentence, written curtly.
 Signed CEO Silver Rien.
“‘Due to inclement weather, all employees are free to work from
home’,” Silver said, voicing the exact words he’d used in the email. At
Nuri’s silence, he glanced up. “Isn’t that what an employer who cares about
his employees would do?”
“I—” he cleared his throat, “Yes.”
Silver sighed. “Of course, I could care less about that, but since
public opinion is so important in order for me to keep my position as CEO I
suppose it can’t hurt to be a little more lenient at times like these.”
“Do you mean times when there are five feet of snow outside and
the storm is still raging?” Nuri asked, a bit drolly.
He cocked his head. “You weren’t exactly looking forward to
braving the cold. Now you don’t have to. Stop pouting, Navek, you’re
ruining my appetite.”
“I wasn’t pouting.” He straightened in his seat, slightly affronted by
the accusation.
“Sulking then.”
“I’m not a child.”
“I wasn’t aware only children could sulk.” Silver placed his tablet
down more gently this time, and propped an elbow on the table. Resting his
chin on his hand, he stared unblinkingly at Nuri, as if searching for
something.
His interest wasn’t personal, something Nuri frequently had to
remind himself whenever he gained the Emperor’s undivided attention like
this. He was merely curious. Silver was most likely memorizing his
expression, the lines of his face, the form of his mouth, and tilt to his brows
so that he could emulate it at a later date if necessary.
Silver had feelings just like everyone else, but they were also…
different. He lacked empathy and understanding. For all intents and
purposes, he didn’t have a conscious. If he knew a situation called for him
to react a certain way but couldn’t muster that emotion himself, a lot of the
time he would simply fake it or use Nuri as a shield.
“You’ll stay,” he said then, breaking the silence.
“What?” Nuri wasn’t following, but it didn’t seem like Silver was in
the mood to explain.
“It’s been decided.” He rose from his seat, collecting his things,
including the coffee cup which had been refilled during their unofficial
staring contest. “When you’re finished with breakfast, meet me in the
study.”
Nuri nodded in understanding, listening to the soft sound of Silver’s
retreating steps. As soon as he was alone, he blew out a breath, some of the
tension leaving his shoulders. At least the Emperor had taken his comment
yesterday to heart. With the blizzard ongoing, it wasn’t safe for anyone out
on the roads. Why he’d felt the need to point out that Nuri couldn’t go
anywhere either was beyond him.
Of course he wasn’t going anywhere. Warmth was one of the few
things Nuri craved, and since inside was warmer than out, it was sort of a
no-brainer. If the rest of the office didn’t have to brave the weather, he
wouldn’t either. Would he prefer to be at his own apartment instead of here?
Yes. But there was nothing that could be done about that now.
Finished eating, Nuri picked N.I.M off the ground and went to meet
the Emperor.
***
The study was Silver’s personal space, which few were allowed to
enter. Even the maids were turned away. Nuri had a tendency to tidy up
whenever he was there, but for the most part, Silver kept it to his liking and
didn’t want anyone messing about with his things.
An entire wall was made of a screen currently packed with
handwritten notes using the stylus set to the side on a low shelf. The colors
varied and years of living with him had taught Nuri what most of those
colors signified. Anything done in bright tones was important, anything
done if cool tones were mere ideas still taking fruition. If it was in red, it
needed solving immediately.
Notes about work took up most of the board, and something else
appeared on the digital screen when Nuri entered, the words large and in
blood red.
“Who is Ackor Hue?” Nuri asked, pausing to read it over a few
times. He played around with it but wasn’t familiar with the name.
The entire right wall was lined with bookshelves, though instead of
books there were items collected over the years, most of them gifts given by
Nuri during birthdays and holidays when it’d been deemed inappropriate
for him not to give Silver something.
 The Emperor was currently standing behind his desk, a large slab of
wood with nothing on it aside from the stylus. A screen was set into the
surface of the desk which connected to the large wall, which he’d just used
to scrawl the name down. He tapped at his multi-slate, sending a file to the
large screen, and then rounded the desk.
“Apparently that’s his name,” he replied coolly.
“Who’s name?”
Silver pointed to the screen just as the file he’d sent opened.
One second it looked like a whiteboard covered in words and
numbers, and the next a video file was filling the entire wall. It was dark
and at first, Nuri didn’t know what he was looking at, but then someone
moaned, the sound guttural and filling the entire study in an instant and it
all became clear.
Two men were having sex in a dark hotel room. As if knowing the
camera was there, one of them reached out and flicked on the end table
light, bathing them both in a rich golden glow.
Silver had a man practically bent in half on the bed, his hands
pressed beneath his thighs, folding him so that the man’s knees were almost
at the side of his head. The angle was at the side of the bed, so the two of
them and their position was easy to make out. When he pulled back, his
long cock came into view a second before he plowed it forward, causing the
man beneath him to jerk and cry out a second time.
Nuri gasped and looked away, cheeks flushing. The sounds
continued, the slick coming together of flesh against flesh and the throaty
moans of the man Silver was fucking. It wasn’t the first time Nuri had seen
the Emperor naked—they’d roomed together for nearly a decade, after all—
but he’d never seen anything like this before. He was aware that Silver had
sex, obviously, but he tried not to think about it, in part because it was
intrusive, but also because…
He gulped and fisted his hands at his sides.
“Could you turn that off please?” he asked, his voice coming out
strained and almost far away. He was embarrassed, but not enough to retract
his request.
“We’re almost at the good part,” Silver told him, stepping closer.
But he wasn’t watching the screen. His eyes were glued to Nuri, the interest
there apparent.
 A wave of indignation clawed its way past the embarrassment and
Nuri glared. It was rare for him to show his emotions in the presence of the
Emperor, even more so for him to direct any negative ones toward the other
man, but this was pushing his boundaries and he found himself giving in to
the urge.
“You’re trying to make me uncomfortable on purpose,” he accused,
“and I do not appreciate it, majesty.”
“Is that what it seems like?”
“Yes.”
Silver nodded, but he didn’t turn the video off.
“If this is why you called me in here—”
“I’m being blackmailed,” he cut him off before he could say he was
leaving and pointed to the screen, “with this.”
It wasn’t common to share sex tapes or do it out in public, but the
people of Ignite could hardly be considered prudes. This wouldn’t exactly
be the end of the world if it were to leak, especially considering Silver was
constantly being fawned over by the media and public. Sure, his position as
CEO could be put in jeopardy if it seemed like he wasn’t taking care of the
company or his employees, but because he’d had sex and been filmed?
Unlikely.
“Just ignore it,” Nuri suggested. “It’ll make headline news for a
couple of weeks, but that’s about all.”
“I told you,” Silver said, “we’re almost at the good part.”
The man he was with in the video, the one Nuri now assumed was
Ackor Hue, came almost immediately after Silver finished that sentence.
Nuri didn’t want to look, kept his eyes on Silver’s stubbornly, but after a
while when the sounds continued despite Ackor having clearly finished, he
found his curiosity growing. There had to be more to this than a mere sex
scandal if Silver really was concerned about it getting out there.
“Here,” the Emperor told him, indicating the spot in the video he’d
meant.
Almost as if possessed, Nuri found his head turning back to the
screen, unable to look away.
Ackor’s strained voice told Silver to stop. He said he was done and
to hurry up. All of his words were ignored. After another moment, he
started struggling beneath the Emperor, clearly trying to push him off
though with little effort. It was mostly to make a point, Nuri could tell, but
his frustration grew the longer Silver continued to fuck into him with little
to no heed to his frantic movements.
Ackor said he was feeling over sensitive and tears were starting to
fill his eyes. Almost as if it affronted him, Silver flipped the man over,
repositioning him with his ass high in the air and then thrust back into him
hard enough to have the bed rattling against the wall.
Ackor screamed and flailed, clawing at the sheets as he was brutally
fucked from behind. He called out Silver’s name, but it didn’t appear as
though the Emperor even heard him.
Silver’s expression was a blank slate, his grunts low and almost
inaudible amidst the other man’s crying. His jaw was clenched and his
movements were focused, keeping a steady, pounding rhythm that didn’t
break no matter what the man beneath him said or did.
Nuri couldn’t look away. It was horrible, but…He shifted on his
feet, eyes glued to the screen, to the sinewy muscles covered in a sheen of
sweat, and the glistening cock ramming into Ackor’s slightly smaller body.
He hated himself for it, but he found his thoughts drifting, mind wondering
what it would feel like to have all of that shoved deep inside of him instead.
To be pinned down just like that and forced to take whatever Silver wanted
to give…To cry out for him like Ackor was doing.
And it was clear, despite his protests, that Ackor was enjoying it.
He’d stopped trying to get away entirely and instead was practically
drooling all over the pillow, tears still rolling down his ruddy cheeks.
He’d stopped trying to get away, but it was still wrong.
“He said no,” Nuri reminded himself, but the Emperor was there and
clearly heard him, mistaking the words as meant for him.
“I didn’t realize in the moment,” Silver told him absently.
“That is not a good excuse.”
“He gave consent in the beginning,” he said.
“But then he told you to stop.”
“He’s satisfied in the end. Doesn’t that count?”
“Was that part recorded as well?” Nuri asked. On screen, Silver’s
expression tightened, and it looked like he was finally about to come. Sure
enough, he let out a guttural growl, slamming his cock all the way into
Ackor. He held the man steady against him as he emptied, fingers digging
into his skin, bruising. “You left marks.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
 “Is it always this…” He’d been about to ask if sex with Silver was
always this rough, but caught himself. He shook his head. “No one else has
threatened you with a sex tape before.”
“It isn’t always like this,” Silver answered anyway, easily able to
pick up on Nuri’s train of thought. “That night, I lost control. I forgot who I
was with.”
“Is that why you also didn’t notice you were being secretly
recorded?” Nuri crossed his arms, trying to focus on the conversation and
keep himself from overheating. He was starting to feel tight down there and
knew if he didn’t keep distracted he’d get hard right here and now in front
of Silver. Which so couldn’t happen. He was nothing if not professional,
and getting hard over your boss's sex tape? When there was dubious
consent involved? Big no-no.
“This is the part he cut out of the footage.” Silver motioned back to
the screen, not that he needed to. Nuri hadn’t looked away in at least five
minutes.
Once he was done, the Silver in the footage finally pulled away,
dropping Ackor’s body to the bed carelessly. He settled onto the edge, legs
slightly spread, spent cock in full view of the camera, though he reached
down and picked his pants from the floor, quickly dressing.
Ackor stretched on the bed and rolled over slightly to glance at
Silver. His lips were curved in a satisfied smile and when he spoke his
words were practically purred. “That was fantastic. When can I see you
again?”
The Silver on the screen had done up his pants and was currently
working on lacing up his boots. “I’ll be on the cover of this month’s Pro
Magazine,” he stated absently. “You’ll see me everywhere.”
Ackor chuckled, clearly thinking it was a joke.
Nuri knew better.
“How about dinner Friday?” He sat up on the bed and went to wrap
his arms around Silver, but the Emperor slapped his hands away and stood.
“Pass.”
Ackor frowned. “Saturday?”
“It seems like you’re a little slow,” Silver sighed and snatched his
shirt off the ground. “I had exactly one use for you and now you’ve served
your purpose. There’s no need for either of us to ever meet again.”
 Nuri jumped when the screen suddenly went black, whipping his
head over to find Silver holding out the remote.
“The rest is just me leaving and him screaming obscenities,” Silver
explained. “Nothing of importance.”
“You said he cut out part of the footage?” Nuri needed to get his
head on straight. Damage control. That’s why Silver had brought him in
here and shown him this. Not to get him all flustered. “Where did you get
the completed video?”
“He told me he’d cut it in his message.” Silver moved over to his
desk, setting the remote down and then leaning back against the edge. “He’s
demanding one million coin and claims he’ll delete his copy once he’s
paid.”
“Sure he will.”
“You don’t buy it either.”
Nuri inhaled slowly to help himself focus. “Do you have any of his
information?”
“Aside from his name?” He shook his head. “In the message he
provided a link to a site where I can transfer the money, but that’s about it.
His name should be enough to hunt him down in any case. Once you do,
make sure he stays quiet.”
If he released the footage without the ending part, there’d be an
uproar. Of course, they could always retaliate by providing the rest
themselves but…The people of Ignite were upper-class citizens who might
not frown on sex, but certainly would love to gossip about the Emperor’s
kinky proclivities in the bedroom. It would be distracting for the company,
and the board might end up deciding to remove him as CEO after all.
This wouldn’t be the first time Nuri had to take care of a threat,
though it was the first time a sex tape was involved. He rubbed at his head,
starting to get a migraine just thinking about this situation reaching the
media.
Silver came over then, pushing his hand out of the way so that he
could replace Nuri’s fingers with his own. He massaged the pads of his
thumbs in circles over his temples, applying just the right amount of
pressure.
Nuri hated it, but his body swayed a bit toward him, reacting despite
logic. He shouldn’t be letting the Emperor this close, especially not when he
was still semi-hard and at risk of it getting worse with every passing second
that he could smell the amber-infused scent of the other man.
It felt so good though, his headache already fleeing, chased away by
the soothing sensations. This wasn’t the first time he’d touched him like
this. The Emperor had given him head massages in the past as well, but it’d
been a long while. The last Nuri could recall had been back in college while
they’d been cramming for their finals. He’d been so stressed out and in an
almost constant state of head pain. At one point he’d needed to lay down
and close his eyes to try and alleviate the discomfort. He’d woken sometime
later to Silver standing at the head of the bed, massaging his temples
silently.
“Should we take a trip to the Mab islands?” Silver said in a low
tone.
Even though he’d spoken softly, the words still pierced through
some of Nuri’s bliss and he blinked at the Emperor.
“You need a break,” he continued at Nuri’s questioning look. “This
year has been hard on the both of us. A visit to the hot springs will do some
good.”
The natural hot springs on Mab were famous, and it typically took
booking months in advance to get a spot at the fancy five-star hotels there.
Of course, as the Emperor, Silver would be able to get them rooms with
ease.
It was tempting, incredibly so, but that guilt he’d woken up with
flickered back to life in the center of his chest, reminding him of the
promise he’d made to Never. He stepped back, removing himself from the
Emperor’s hold.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ve already scheduled my vacation
days.” It wasn’t a secret, Silver was already aware of Nuri’s plans, but it
also wouldn’t be surprising if the other man had forgotten. “My sister is
graduating and she needs me there afterward.”
“I need you here,” Silver stated.
“I’ll only be gone for three days.”
Silver tilted his head. “You sound disappointed.”
“It was meant to be longer.” Nuri licked his lips, wondering why he
was bothering with this conversation. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of this
problem before I go. If he contacts you again, please let me know
immediately.”
 Nuri bowed and turned toward the door, but was stopped.
“Where are you going?” Silver asked.
“To my room,” he said. “I have to make some calls to track Ackor
Hue down.”
“Do that here.” From the look on his face, it was clear it wasn’t a
suggestion.
Nuri’s gaze wandered back over to the screen, which was still
paused at the part where Silver walked away from the man he’d just had sex
with.
“Would you like to watch it again?”
Nuri’s eyes went wide. “What?! No!”
The corner of Silver’s mouth tipped up slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Was he…teasing him? He cleared his throat and motioned to
the leather couch tucked into the corner. “I’ll work over here and won’t
disturb you.” Nuri walked over to it and settled down in the center, pulling
N.I.M from his pocket to rest him on one of the cushions at his side. “Please
take down the video now.”
Silver chuckled, but this time he complied.
Chani Lynn Feener has wanted to be a writer since the age of ten during
fifth grade story time. She majored in Creative Writing at Johnson State
College in Vermont. To pay her bills, she has worked many odd jobs,
including, but not limited to, telemarketing, order picking in a warehouse,
and filling ink cartridges. When she isn’t writing, she’s binging TV shows,
drawing, or frequenting zoos/aquariums. Chani is also the author of teen
paranormal series, The Underworld Saga, originally written under the
penname Tempest C. Avery. She currently resides in Connecticut, but lives
on Goodreads.com.
Chani Lynn Feener can be found on Goodreads.com, as well as on Twitter
and Instagram @TempestChani.
For more information on upcoming and past works, please visit her website:
HOME | ChaniLynnFeener (wixsite.com).
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