Chapter 14 Willow
Willow
Hunter paces my apartment, his fingers gripping his phone so tight, I half expect it to shatter. He types out another text, his jaw locked, shoulders tense. He’s been like this since Graham and Carson dropped us off at the front door and left for some unknown place.
He hasn't looked at me once since kissing me. And it's getting under my skin.
Protecting me. That’s what he called it. Is it bad that I’m imagining what else he could protect me from in the same way? I shift in the armchair, pulling my knees to my chest.
“You didn’t have to kiss me,” I say. I search his eyes for any flicker of emotion, any sign that it was more than a kiss, but he remains resolute. “I can handle Landon. He’s not dangerous.”
He snorts. “From my perspective, he’s hurt you more than your stalker has.”
I tug my lower lip between my teeth before nibbling on it. He’s not wrong. I can still feel the ghost of his mark, the aching that refuses to fade.
“What did you say to him?” I ask.
Hunter lifts a single brow, tongue pushing against his cheek before blowing out a breath. He finally moves, settling on the edge of the couch, his gaze sharp. “Something he needed to hear.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, finally looking at me.
“He’s lucky I didn’t gut him on the spot.”
My stomach twists at the ferocity of his words. The primal instinct to protect ringing loud and clear. It both thrills and terrifies me.
“What happened—between Landon and me…it was just as much my fault as his. I knew he wasn’t ready for…” I trail off, my heart constricting. “Well, me.”
Hunter’s jaw tightens, a silent acknowledgement of my pain, but he remains silent, and the silence screams louder than any words.
“I asked him to bite me,” I confess, the truth spilling out before I can catch it.
His expression shifts, a look of concern and anger swirling in his eyes as he looks away. His grip on his emotions visibly strained.
“So if you’re going to blame him for being stupid, you should put me right there next to him in your head.”
His nostrils flare as he pulls in a slow breath, his control hanging by a thread. Then, without warning, he drops to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding over my knees, grounding me instantly.
“You’re lucky you didn’t die.”
A shiver chases goosebumps down my spine. “You can’t die from a mark fading.”
His grip tightens. “You can lose your will to live, princess. That’s the same damn thing. Maybe worse—for those that love you.”
He’s not talking about me. I feel it bone deep, and it makes something painful twist in my chest. My fingers twitch before I touch his, a spark of awareness skimming up my arms at the contact.
“I’m sorry you went through that,” I whisper. “That you had to live it again.”
Hunter visibly shudders, adjusting his hands until he’s holding mine.
“Next time you let an alpha bite you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my cheek, “make sure they’re worth it.”
“Next time?” I scoff, even as heat rises to my face. “Yeah, that’s a no.”
His fingers that are still holding mine, flex, squeezing mine gently. “Yes, next time.”
Before I can argue, the apartment door swings open, breaking the moment.
Carson and Graham step in, carrying bags of food. Hunter doesn’t move away. He just rises to his full height, his body positioning itself in front of me instinctively, even though there’s no threat.
Carson raises a brow, his gaze flicking between us. He purses his lips, clearly holding back a grin.
“That was her ex outside the rink,” Hunter says before either of them can comment.
“Explains the kiss,” Graham says. He studies me, his face darkening as he sets the food on the counter. Not for the first time, I wish I could scent him. But he’s religious with blockers, always masking whatever he’s feeling.
“Really?” I scoff under my breath. There is absolutely no other reason Hunter would have kissed me? I call bullshit. Under the right circumstances, I think he would have.
Carson shifts, and I flick my attention to him, his humor is absent; his musk is blocked too, but I can still read him. And he’s just as pissed as Hunter was earlier.
“Wow, guys, it’s not like he’s going to kidnap me or something.
” I roll my eyes, brushing past Hunter to approach the tantalizing bags of food.
The rich aroma of street tacos wafts through the air.
Each scent beckoning me closer. I rip open a bag, inhaling the mouthwatering smell.
My stomach growls in anticipation as I pull out a plastic container.
“I can call his sister. She’ll tell him to go home. It’s fine.”
No one answers.
I take a bite and moan. My eyes drop shut as I savor the flavor. How can something so simple taste so heavenly?
Pure bliss rolls through me, my body sagging against the counter as my perfume spikes with happiness. “Oh my God,” I groan, pressing a hand over my mouth, overwhelmed by the deliciousness. “How did you know this is my favorite?”
Silence envelopes the room as I glance up, catching three sets of eyes locked onto me. And none of them are thinking about tacos. At least, not the kind I’m holding in my hand.
I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the way they’re watching me. I can feel the blush starting to heat my cheeks, and I set the unfinished taco back in the container.
“So, should we buy you street tacos multiple times a day, or is there a limit to your happiness?” Carson smirks, breaking the tension, though something deeper flickered in his gaze. Hinting at unresolved feelings.
With the savory taste lingering on my tongue and the warmth of their presence surrounding me, I realize that amidst the chaos and confusions of my relationships with them, there’s a deeper bond forming. One forged by shared experiences and an undeniable connection that keeps drawing us closer.