And I can't risk letting my wolf burst from the seams, knowing that there's another wolf out there who'll sense the shift, sense my emotions, and come looking for me.
He's my fated mate, and I wouldn't expect anything less, but at this point, I'm not even sure what that means.
As soon as I push open the door of the bar—the only place in town still open at this hour—gentle jazz music fills the cozy ambience of the place, and it's empty save for one seat at the counter.
My heart sinks to the soles of my feet immediately, and I'm stunned for a few seconds, watching as he thanks the bartender for his drink and chugs it down in one gulp. It's not like a full glass of whiskey will do much to him; his fast-working metabolism will burn out the liquor before it reaches his bloodstream.
As a werewolf, I have the same thing to look forward to, but I was counting on getting something to calm myself enough not to cause a stir. But now that I'm in the bar, and Hunter is here too, I'm instantly placated, as if his mere presence soothes my wolf.
Of course it does! He's my fated mate, and I keep running in circles with him. He was the one running the first time around when he rejected my claim that we were fated mates.
This time, I'm the one doing the running. If I proved anything to myself tonight when I stood up to my parents, it's that I care more about Hunter than I've been willing to admit.
The love I once felt for him can't be extinguished so easily. It's why it festered into hatred when he broke my heart.
Is this what second chances are supposed to look like? Am I wrong for holding a grudge against him when he broke my heart so badly back then?
Even if I was clinging too tightly to the past, in the wake of what I was feeling just now, seeing him at the bar does something to calm my nervous system.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to approach him cautiously at first, hoping that I can ease into a conversation that isn’t too heavy. Perhaps I can bring up Gwen again, thank him for helping out with showing her around Scarborough, and suggesting she stay here.
It's helped me ease my guilt, and the least I can do is thank him.
He must hear my footsteps approaching, because he turns around just in time to meet my eyes. My breath catches with a gasp when there's not an ounce of kindness evident in his eyes, a cold shiver running down my spine.
As cold as his eyes.
“Hunter…?” I ask, a flicker of dread causing my heart to skip a beat. He's so cold, his face hard with hostility, making him appear heartless. Murderous. Angry.
“What are you doing here?” he clicks his tongue as he turns back to the counter, his cold shrug of indifference making me frown.
This is a side of Hunter I've never seen before, and I'm confused.
“I needed a drink,” I say, trying to remain unfazed by his coldness as I take a seat on the barstool. “What are you doing here?”
Hunter ignores my question. “How was your dinner with the prince?” he scoffs bitterly as he taps on his glass.
That's when I realize why he's upset.
“How did you know…?”
“Arthur told me when I came by the house. I came looking for you, only to find out you were cozying up to the prince. I'm sure you miss him now that he's gone.”
“Hunter!” I exclaim, grabbing his shoulder, shocked when he shrugs my hand off.
“What?” he shrugs nonchalantly, casually throwing me a glance full of disdain. “Tell me I'm wrong.”
“Oh, you have no idea!” I sneer, shaking my head in disbelief.
Is he really jealous?
How can he be when he didn't even fight me that night when I told him that what we had was just sex? He simply accepted it, yet here he is, acting as if I betrayed him.
My heart does a quiet, shattering flip as I recall how restless I'd been after I'd marched to my bedroom and Hunter didn't come after me.
Perhaps that's what I wanted deep down, for Hunter to fight for me, to fight forus.
But he keeps making it abundantly clear through his actions that there is no “us,” and all I did that night was do the same thing.
