“If you're trying to offend me, it's not gonna work,” Hunter calmly says as he leans back in his chair and sips his coffee. “You can throw whatever jabs you want my way, but we both know that you don't mean any of it.”
A flash of sadness passes through Hunter's dark eyes, and a pang of guilt grips my heart for a split second before I remind myself that he doesn't deserve my compassion.
It's only because of the remnants of my feelings for him that still linger that I feel remotely remorseful about the way I've been treating him. Consciously reminding myself that I need to be as detached as possible so he doesn't have the power to hurt me again, I take a sip of my coffee before setting my mug down with a gentle clink.
“Look, I get that we're married,” I begin, mentally drawing the line I'm about to speak into existence. “But we both know this is fake. There's no need for us to pretend behind closed doors.”
“You think I'm pretending?” Hunter scoffs as he picks up a forkful of scrambled eggs and shoves it into his mouth. “I'm not. But you are,” he says through his mouthful.
I roll my eyes, sinking into my chair. “I told you already, we can't stand each other, so there's no point in pretending unless we need to keep up appearances around other people.”
Hunter nods thoughtfully as he stares at me through narrowed eyes, unconvinced, processing my words with a flicker of doubt and sadness in his skeptical gaze.
“Is this a boundary I'm not meant to cross?”
“That's exactly what this is. As long as we're on the same page, this will work,” I state with a firm nod, ignoring his disappointment and disregarding it because I already know how this ends otherwise.
“Sure,” he murmurs as he picks up his mug, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to gawk at the way his plump upper lip curls over the edge as he takes a sip. “We alwaysworked well together when we were on the same page. This'll be a breeze, no doubt.”
His lingering smirk leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth when I know what he's implying with that statement. He'd often whisper it in my ear on those nights when we were tangled in the sheets, bare and sweaty, praising the way we work together.
This is different, I remind myself, chanting the words repeatedly in my head like the only mantra that'll keep my heart protected from torture. I can't afford to experience the suffering of a broken mate bond; my fear of being rejected outweighs a few moments of stolen pleasure.
“Good,” I say as I dig into my breakfast, at last finding the appetite that was dead during that conversation. “Have you spoken to Tyler yet?”
Hunter nods, his expression hardening when he notes the shift in conversation. We're back to business and dealing with the witch, Gwen, who hasn't breathed a word to Tyler.
“He's bringing her over tonight with Nick,” Hunter informs me.
“Okay. We'll keep her in our holding cells, and I'll try speaking to her again.”
“Promise me you won't go questioning her without me around. I don't trust that witch.”
I purse my lips, contemplating his words and trying to find a deeper meaning in them, but remind myself that it's absurd to care about his intentions. This is different. This is about the mission, and we're partnered up for this one. “Fine. But don't question my methods when I speak to her. I know what I'm doing.”
Hunter raises his hands in a show of surrender. “Of course, m'lady,” he offers with a softened gaze. “I'll let you lead on this one.”
Chapter 10 - Hunter
Passing my time by exploring Scarborough, I notice that many houses are quiet while the members of the pack have traveled out of town for work and school.
Still, some remain in the pack territory, tending to the smooth running of the town.
Shadow Fang seems to be running independently, much like Tyler's and Dominic's packs, with the addition of allowing the members to mingle with the outside world, provided they keep their wolf identities hidden from humans. The werewolves know their place and bow to Alpha Gabriel with the esteemed honor he naturally demands.
As I walk through the main square, passing by the library, I see Delilah crossing the street at the top, and I slow down, sticking to the shadows on the sidewalk so she doesn't see me.
After our conversation this morning in which she made it abundantly clear that our relationship means nothing when we're behind closed doors, I feel reluctant to go anywhere near her.
It would probably be a good idea to flaunt our fake relationship to her pack to sell it, but I can't help but feel like I'm failing.
My hands curl into fists at my sides as I'm reminded why I proposed marriage in the first place. I have ulterior motives; my inner wolf no longer succumbs to the inhibitions that kept me back from pursuing something real with Delilah.
I may have thought I wasn't capable of keeping her safe, but this giant leap of marriage proved that I did the right thing by saving her from marrying the prince.
It's also shown me that my inner wolf is commanded by the fated mate bond I've tried to deny in the past. But it's why I feel like I'm failing when Delilah keeps pushing me away.
“Excuse me…” a gentle female voice calls from behind, and I turn to find an elderly woman squinting her eyes at me from behind thick eyeglasses, scratching her head to unravel strands of curls from her messy bun. “I saw you standing over there looking lost. You wanna come inside?”
