Page 32 of A Whisper in the Dark

Fortunately, he caught himself, forcing his gaze to harden. He planted a hand over Odin’s and applied pressure in silent resistance. “I can see that. Let go.”

“Help me clean off,” Odin said, cocking his head when Hunter snorted derisively. “I’m sorry, did that come off like a question?” In one swift motion, he removed Hunter’s t-shirt. “It wasn’t. It was an order.”

“I don’t—”

“Say that to me one more time,” he warned, and a hint of very real anger flashed in his eyes that had Hunter stilling, “and I won’t make this easy for you. I’ll take what I came here to get and leave, whether you’re satisfied or not. You do, in fact, take orders. My orders. Like the one I just gave you.”

Hunter felt his heart stutter in his chest, a wave of fear finally trickling through the confusion and irritation he’d been feeling. This wasn’t the first time Odin had tossed him around, after all, and he’d recalled the man’s mercurial mood swings from their past together. Even though he’d stomped in here and instantly stripped, Hunter’s mind hadn’t processed the real threat until now.

“You can’t mean—”

“Did you not take my words seriously the last couple of times?” Odin asked. He pointed to Hunter’s pajama pants. “Take those off.”

“No.” Hunter was caught between him and the toilet and knew better than to attempt moving off to the side. Instead, he held up his hands and took a breath, stalling. “What happened? You’re mad about something and—”

Odin laughed, a twisted and mocking sound that had Hunter momentarily forgetting the danger all over again and bristling in indignation. He caught Hunter’s chin in his hand. “Take those off, or I will,” he grinned wickedly, “with my teeth.”

He’d already been naked in front of him once before, Hunter reminded himself as he forced Odin’s hold off and went to untie the strings holding the silk pants in place. They hadn’t provided him with any real clothing, not even when Corbi had brought him to the Room with a View, so he’d been stuck in them this entire time.

“Actual pants would be nice,” he bit out, mostly to distract himself as he dropped them, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to back down, however, keeping his eyes locked with Odin’s, making sure all of the hatred he was feeling could be seen there.

“I’ll make a note of that,” Odin told him, and it was impossible to tell if he was being serious or not. He turned away before Hunter could ask, moving to open the shower door and switch it on. A burst of hot water shot out of the rectangular-shaped showerhead, steam instantly filling the stall, wafting past Snow’s large body to pass into the rest of the dimly lit room.

The lighting had settings and Hunter only now noticed that Odin hadn’t turned them on all the way. They weren’t the typical blaring bright white Hunter had them on whenever he came in here, but instead a soft, almost moonlight glow.

Just enough to see everything, from the crusted blood smears to the dips and divots of Odin’s abs, down to the trail of thin dark brown hairs that led—

“Isn’t that easier?” Odin’s voice broke through Hunter’s wandering imaginings and he startled, snapping his gaze back up to his. “You like to look,” he continued, and Hunter got the impression he was saying it for himself.

Almost as if Odin had just confirmed a suspicion he’d had.

“This is about the other night,” Hunter guessed and instantly wished he hadn’t.

Odin clenched his jaw and motioned with his chin to the stall behind him. “Get in.”

Hunter hesitated, though there was no way out of this he could see. It was obvious once he was in there, in that small space being crowded by the Dominus, he’d have no footing at all. And those memories of what he’d done in that stall while alone returned a second time, haunting him. He clamped his teeth down on the inside of his cheek, stopping just shy of breaking skin.

Because that was the last thing he needed. To add blood to this already fucked up equation where he was sure to come out in the negatives.

He’d been severely injured when brought here, and Odin had supposedly hung around him the entire time. Snow hadn’t mentioned anything about him possibly being a Whisper, which meant simply smelling or seeing it wasn’t enough to tip a Shout off. That was good at least, comforting on some level.

Clinging to that messed up string of relief—that at least, no matter what happened next, he’d still be able to keep his secret—Hunter moved around Odin and finally stepped over the lip of the stall, entering beneath a stream of heated water.

It slicked down his shoulders to roll down his spine in a soothing way that had his eyes shutting comfortably.

Until he felt Odin step in behind him.

He went to step away, but Odin stopped him, bringing his arms around Hunter on either side. He rubbed his palms together beneath the spray, scrubbing the blood off almost lazily, paying close attention to the flakes under his short fingernails. He’d told Hunter he wanted his help, but now that they were here, he seemed content just keeping him there, trapped between his strong arms.

Odin leaned forward, shifting on his feet and the move had his chin brushing against the top of Hunter’s head.

Something else touched him as well and he jolted before he could help it.

Odin was hard behind him, the unmistakable press of his thick cock against Hunter’s lower back making that glaringly obvious.

For another few minutes, Odin took care of the washing, ignoring the way Hunter had stiffened in front of him. Once the only sign left of the blood was pink water quickly swirling down the drain, he finally stepped away.

Hunter let out the breath he’d been holding, but before he could get too comfortable, he was forced around so that he was face-to-face with Odin once more.

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