He doesn't like that I'm moving in with his daughter, but he won't make any protest in front of the prince, allowing me to successfully secure my place and mark my territory as Delilah's mate.
Even if she's stabbing daggers into my soul with her firm glare.
Chapter 9 - Delilah
My arms are folded as I stare out the window toward the garden, my foot tapping absentmindedly on the tiles as I gaze at the vibrant flowers glimmering under the moonlight and casting a spell outside my house.
Sighing heavily, I realize that not even the serene beauty surrounding me is enough to calm my nerves.
Hunter is on his way back from Stowe, where he'd gone to pick up his belongings from Sean's place. He's moving into my house, which is a smaller building behind my parents’ massive mansion in Scarborough.
I've never felt trapped in my own space, but tonight, I feel like a prisoner in my home. It was the one place that had often felt like a sanctuary, especially on those nights when Father would speak about my betrothal to the prince, and I'd retreat to my two-bedroom cottage for fresh air that wasn't choking me.
Tonight, I feel choked, as if the walls are closing in, becoming smaller and suffocating me. Unable to withstand the walls like the enemy stalking me as if I'm prey, I spread my arms out and throw open the back door.
Once I'm outside, the night air gently kisses my cheek as if to console me, allowing me to realize that Hunter moving in is probably for the best.
The charming, charismatic Prince Damion is sticking around in Scarborough for a few days, and I can't be seen without my husband, my mate, without raising suspicions.
I know my parents aren't thrilled that I married someone who isn't an alpha. The Lycan Prince is set to take his father's place soon as the alpha of their pack in Estonia, which is why hewas a perfect suitor for me. But now that everything is out in the open, Hunter and I don't have a choice but to play along with the act we've set up.
I wasn't expecting him to announce that he's moving in with me, but it was the right thing to do, all things considered. Still, I can't seem to find the light at the end of this tunnel, gnawing my bottom lip nervously as I wait for him to return.
Spotting a silhouette forming at the edge of the woods, my heart hammers against my chest as I recognize Hunter's immaculate, strong frame emerging from the forest. Momentarily stunned, my lips part on my next breath, and my mind becomes an empty abyss of no sensible thoughts.
All I'm focused on is the way Hunter marches forward, lugging a bag over one shoulder, his boots stomping the ground as if each step is calculated. Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze even as his body moves, and he continues to approach, and for a fleeting second, I bat my eyelids salaciously as butterflies flutter in the lowest parts of my belly.
Awareness strikes like a chord that matches the way my heart strums, but the sound shatters and breaks off as if the chord snapped. That's when I'm reminded of the pain I suffered when he rejected me, and the broken heart I was left with.
I might have picked up the pieces and stitched my heart back together, but it can never play the music it once did before Hunter rejected me. I have to be gentle with it, cautious, and not allow Hunter anywhere near it, because he doesn't deserve to hear my music.
Gathering up the courage I need to face him upon his return, I'm surprised to see him scowling when he gets close enough.
My lips part, and I'm about to ask why he seems to be in a bad mood, but then I snap my mouth shut because it's not my place. It's not my business.
There must be something wrong with Hunter, though, since he walks past me and steps inside my house, not offering a witty remark in his playful, suggestive tone.
Frowning, I turn toward him, seeing him standing in the kitchen with his bag dangling from one hand.
I clear my throat, but the sound doesn't immediately grab his attention until I cautiously step in front of him, letting the frown slip from my face.
Hunter can barely meet my eyes, his gaze flickering from left to right, his head bent.
“You wanna unpack your stuff? I'll show you which room you're gonna use,” I say, turning toward the hallway.
Hunter only mumbles something inaudible under his breath, shrugging and lifting his bag against his chest as if he's using it as armor. Despite finding his behavior strange, I continue leading him down the hall until we get to the door on the left.
“This is the guest bedroom,” I say as I push the door open. Hunter proceeds to step inside, and I hover at the door, watching him with keen interest since he's being weird.
He hasn't said a word since he returned, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don't know what's going on in his mind, but he's acting like he's out of place.
Huffing, I step in after him and snatch the bag out of his hand, sliding the zipper open and throwing out the contents onto the bed. I grab his clothes and start packing them in a neat stack in the wardrobe, and take his toothbrush to the bathroom,along with some other toiletries. When I'm done unpacking for him, I stand between the bathroom doorway and dust my palms together.
“There, everything is unpacked,” I huff.
“You didn't have to do that, Delilah,” Hunter says for the first time, his voice grim.
“I did,” I argue as I head to the door. “If I didn't, you'd probably live out of that bag for as long as you're here.”
