Chapter 8 - Hunter
Keeping my eyes narrowed on the witch as Nicholas leads her into the holding cell, there's a part of me that wonders what Delilah saw in her that had them chatting as if they were old friends while we made our way through the woods.
The witch can't be trusted after she'd attacked us in Oakland, even if she claims that she was defending herself. It's not like we'd gone after her with guns blazing, tracking her in our human forms instead of pouncing our wolves on her.
Even now, as Nicholas steps out of the cell and Tyler shuts the gate with a loud, metallic click, the witch turns to us with pleading, sad eyes, but I don't buy it for a second.
“Come on,” Tyler says, making his way to the stairs. “We're meeting the girls at my place.”
“I'm starving,” Nicholas adds, patting his stomach as he follows Tyler.
“Are we just gonna leave this one here?” I ask in confusion, glancing over my shoulder and spearing the witch with a suspicious glare.
“Yeah, I doubt she's gonna talk now, anyway. The spell Delilah cast on her will last for a couple of days, so we're safe until then,” Tyler explains, and I tear my gaze from the witch's eyes and follow my friends out of the dungeon.
When we're on the ground, Nicholas slaps my shoulder and grins. “We didn't get much time to talk with everything that's been going on. You and Delilah, huh?” His brows wiggle suggestively, green eyes glittering with humor.
“It's not like that, Nick,” I chuckle nervously. “We did what we had to do to get her parents off her back about marrying the prince.”
Tyler inhales sharply, as if hiding something he knows from Nicholas.
“It was a good idea, Hunter. This group can't do without Delilah. We saw that tonight.”
“Exactly!” I grin. “I couldn't imagine her being whisked off to Europe and leaving us behind.”
Tyler nods slowly, but a suspicious glint flashes through his eyes and makes me frown, wondering if there is something he knows that he's not letting on.
He's never been suspicious about our secret relationship before, but now it feels like he suspects something. To deflect, I decide to put some distance between Delilah and me to show them that this marriage is fake.
“Hey, now that the witch has been captured and won't try any tricks for a bit, do you think Emily will wanna go home? I think I should go back to Sean's pack, recuperate after tonight's mission.”
“You're welcome to stay in Portland, Hunter,” Tyler says, his expression softening. “There's no need to hurry.”
“Yeah, or you could join me. Crescent Moon will be delighted to meet you.”
Just as I'm deciding where to stay, weighing my options, we hear footsteps padding the ground and ruffling the blades of grass. My attention snaps in the direction of the approach, only to see Delilah jogging over.
“What happened? Is Arianna alright?” Tyler asks, suddenly panicked.
“Yes, she's fine,” Delilah tells him when she comes to a stop. “Emily's gone over there. I need a minute with Hunter.”
Both men glance at me quizzically, but all I can offer is a wary shrug since I don't know what's going on.
All this time, Delilah has been patently avoiding me as if I'm the plague, and now she wants to talk?
My curiosity is piqued, but I can't stop my snarky tongue from whispering, “Have you finally decided to treat this like a real marriage? Wanna go back to my room?”
Wiggling my brows, I'm only trying to make her loosen up after Tyler and Nicholas have left.
It doesn't work, and Delilah throws her head back and groans defeatedly.
“Goddess! You're insufferable, Hunter!” she rages to the skies, lowering her head to glare at me when she meets my eyes. “Just forget it!”
As she spins on her heel, I grab her wrist to stop her from leaving the meadow, deciding to take it down a notch since it makes her uncomfortable.
I'll only end up making her hate me more.
“Wait, Delilah,” I sigh as she snatches her hand away, turning toward me with fire in her eyes. “Sorry, that was inappropriate of me. You obviously came looking for me for something important, and I'm an idiot.”
“Yes, you are,” Delilah concedes with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I'm probably gonna regret this, but I need your help.”
“My help? What for?” I ask, seriously this time, when I notice her grim expression.
“It doesn't matter. It's urgent. Please.”
Her eyes plead with me, and I can't help but agree to whatever she needs from me, feeling duty-bound, not just because I'm her husband, but because we're fated mates.
Both are things she obviously doesn't want to speak about, but that's not important right now.
“Lead the way, m'lady. I'll help in whatever way I can.”
Delilah doesn't offer further explanation before she suddenly shifts into wolf form and whimpers, prompting me to follow her.
***
When Delilah asked me for help, the last place I expected her to drag me to was Scarborough.
Yet, here we are, across the invisible border spanning the perimeter of the town, standing in our human forms as Delilah dusts off her jeans and combs her fingers through her hair.
“What are we doing in your territory, Delilah?” I ask with a skeptically lifted brow, watching her clean herself up. The sun has already begun rising, delicate rays warming the ground and bouncing up to Delilah's cheeks to give her a radiant glow.
“I told you, I need your help,” she reminds me calmly, her lips curling with an encouraging smile.
“You're not gonna tell me more than that, are you?”
Delilah shakes her head and suddenly reaches forward to grab my hand.
“Come on. They must be getting ready for breakfast.”
They?
Who's “they?”
Feeling Delilah's warm fingers wrapped around my hand is delightful, though I'm surprised that she's holding my hand at all. Apart from the effects of the mate bond surging through my fingers and traveling up my arm, I'm highly aware that she's acting out of character.
She's made it abundantly clear that our marriage is nothing but the farce it was meant to be, and she hates my guts.
Then why is she holding my hand as if she doesn't hate me anymore?
We pass through the town and head toward the lavish, fruitful gardens that open up to a cobblestone pathway that leads to the only mansion in sight.
The impressive towering structure is two levels from the ground, with large pillars reaching the cathedral-like dome canopy covering the top.
We make our way to the arched porch, and all Delilah does is tap a code on a keypad to unlock the swinging doors, which open up to more opulence.
My breath catches when we step inside, mostly because Delilah is still holding my hand, but also because my eyes trace the gold trimmings around ivory white walls. An ornate fireplace crackles with life in the living area, spreading warmth throughout the vast, open expanse of luxury all around.
I've never visited Scarborough before, but I've only heard about the grand mansion that houses the alpha and luna of Shadow Fang. Standing in its magnificence now is beyond anything I could have imagined, as if we walked through time and entered an era of overflowing wealth.
It's no wonder Delilah's family runs the Shadow Fang Pack like a monarchy, as if they're royalty in their own right.
So mesmerized by the opulence all around us, I hardly take note of the way Delilah pulls me forward, turning the corner to where another arched doorway is guarded by a man with a thick, brawny build. He appears intimidating, wearing a scowl even when he greets Delilah.
“Miss Hargreeves.” He gives her a short nod.
“Hey, Arthur. Are my parents in there?” Delilah asks, her voice imperious when she speaks to the man.
Meanwhile, I'm losing my mind trying to compose myself. I knew this moment was bound to come because this is the whole reason we signed that contract in the first place.
I just wasn’t expecting it to happen so suddenly, especially with all of Delilah’s reluctance.
Something must have triggered her haste. “Yes Miss Hargreeves,” he nods as he steps aside, and Delilah turns to me, wearing a composed expression and giving nothing away.
She pats my chest once as if she's encouraging me. “Don't worry. You're gonna be fine.”
Before I can open my mouth to say something, Delilah squeezes my hand tightly and pulls me into the dining room.
At the furthest end of the large polished oak table, an older man and woman are about to clink glasses of orange juice.
Delilah clears her throat. “Mother…Father…” she announces her arrival firmly. “I have returned from Portland.”
“Welcome back, Delilah.” The man stands up, eyes flitting from our tangled hands to my face. “Who is he?”
Delilah takes a bold step forward without letting go of my hand. “He is my husband, my mate.”
Shock fills the silence that stretches over us like a rubber band about to snap back and punch me in the gut. The snap comes when I slowly turn to Delilah, my jaw dropping, and Delilah's father clears his throat.
I avert my eyes, feeling ashamed for standing in front of them and being revealed as their daughter's mate, her husband. That was the plan, to prevent them from marrying her to the European Lycan Prince, but suddenly, it doesn't feel like such a good idea anymore.
It's too late to turn back now, and I'm too shocked by how quickly Delilah revealed our marriage to them.
“What is your name?” Alpha Gabriel addresses me, compelling me to lift my eyes to meet his.
“Hunter.” I clear my throat; it feels too dry. “Hunter Black.”
“Are you an alpha, Hunter Black?” Delilah's mother asks as she stares at me through narrowed eyes, and I hesitate, glancing at Delilah as if I'm grasping at straws.
I'm already aware that Delilah's pack upholds strong beliefs about maintaining pure bloodlines for the heir of the alpha mantle. I've heard about how strict the pack is when it comes to cross-breeding, hence the question.
Delilah only offers a nod of encouragement that tells me I don't have to lie.
“Yes, Luna. I am an alpha. But I do not currently lead a pack.”