Chapter 15 - Delilah
“What's going on?” I ask with a frown, knitting my brows as soon as I enter my parents’ dining room, only to find that they're at their seats, a feast spread out across the table.
They're not alone, and Prince Damion is seated on the left side of my father.
“We thought you'd like to join us for dinner, Delilah,” my father suggests as he gestures to an empty chair next to my mom. His face is as stern as ever, indicating that it's not a request, but an order.
Pursing my lips as I nod tersely, I lower my eyes and reluctantly drag my feet toward the table, inwardly resenting this unexpected dinner invitation.
First, my mother gave Hunter the wrong time to attend the party the other night, and now, they've called me for dinner under the guise of my father wanting to speak to me about pack business.
That's what Arthur told me when he showed up at my cottage just as I was about to prepare a light meal for myself, Hunter, and Gwen.
I didn't think my parents would be so sneaky, but everything they've been doing since I announced my marriage to Hunter only shows me how much they disapprove of my choice of a partner.
Glumly taking a seat and laying a napkin on my lap, I pick up my fork with anger winding my fingers around the gold utensil tighter than usual. I only remain quiet and polite for the sake of royalty seated at the dinner table, but inside, my fuses are being blown.
“Prince Damion will be leaving tonight,” Mother announces with a sweet smile as she nods at the prince. “This private dinner is to bid him farewell and thank him for gracing us with his presence during the visit.”
Mentally rolling my eyes, I force a smile as I lift my gaze to the prince, noticing that he's staring at me in a way that unnerves me, his blue eyes glittering as if he's starstruck.
Quickly flitting my eyes away, I grab a bun from the basket and proceed to break off a piece to shove into my mouth before I say anything that might get us shunned by the European royal.
I'm only relieved that he's finally leaving and I won't have to put up with my parents’ tricks anymore.
“Oh, you have spoiled me too much, Luna Layla,” Prince Damion chuckles.
“It was only fitting, considering that what you came here for didn't work out,” Father says as his eyes flicker to me, a glint of disappointment in them.
I stare at my plate instead, toying with the breadcrumbs and rehearsing the things I plan on saying to my parents the moment the prince leaves.
But as I drown out their voices, my mind drifts to places I've been refusing to travel, like the memories of the passion Hunter and I shared the other night.
After my dismissal of him, he hadn't tried to fight me about it, and it left me feeling disappointed.
But then there's the situation with Gwen, and Hunter has been so supportive of keeping her in Scarborough to quell my guilt about catching the wrong witch that it makes it nearly impossible to stay mad at him for not trying harder.
My emotions are chaotic, and I feel so conflicted about our fake marriage. On one hand, I know I have to protect myself by maintaining that this is fake, and the sex was just casual.
But on the other hand…
“Delilah,” Mother interrupts my thoughts, placing a hand on my arm. I snap out of my daze, realizing that everyone around the table has grown quiet, watching me expectantly.
“Sorry, Mother,” I apologize, feeling a blush creep over my cheeks when I realize I missed some question I needed to answer.
“That's okay,” Mother giggles. “Prince Damion was just asking if you're happy with—” she gulps, as if she can't say his name.
“Hunter?” I ask with a frown, lifting my head and straightening up when I meet Prince Damion's eyes, and notice the way he's staring at me peculiarly.
A shiver of discomfort courses down my spine, but I don't understand why I feel so unnerved. Clearing my throat and tilting my chin boldly, I decided to be firm in my statement.
“Hunter and I are happy,” I lie. “We are, after all, fated mates. It's something we discovered while we were in black ops, and we couldn't wait to be married. Of course, we're happy.”
The prince smiles hesitantly, nodding slowly. “If you are happy, Miss Hargreeves, then that's all that matters.”
There's something in his voice that tells me he doesn't truly mean those words, but I attribute my uneasiness to the way I'm feeling about Hunter and everything that's happened between us.
Perhaps I'm reading too much into something that doesn't exist, and I'm relieved when Prince Damion finally announces that it's time for him to leave.
“Be well, Miss Hargreeves,” Prince Damion bids kindly with a curt nod. “It was an absolute delight meeting you. I wish things were different. You were everything I could have imagined my wife to be.”
All I do is nod tersely in response, my blood simmering when my mother agrees with the prince as she bids him goodbye. Acrid bile rises in my throat, as if the prince's parting words were poisonous, and I scrunch up the napkin on my lap with curled fists.
As soon as the prince's guards escort him out of the mansion, I tap my foot impatiently, waiting for my parents to stop praising the prince even in his absence.
But something inside me snaps when my father says, “Prince Damion would have made a splendid husband.”
“Stop!” I roar, rising to my feet and stabbing my fork into the placemat. “Just stop, will you?! Enough about the prince!”
“Delilah…” Mother tentatively tries reaching out to me, but I snatch my arm away and glare at her accusingly.
“No!” I shout, not sure where this anger is coming from, but riding its wave because I can't control it.
I'm done playing nice, forced to do it in front of the prince, but now that he's gone, I can't hold my tongue any longer.
“I'm sick of the way you've both been acting toward my husband.
Hunter is my husband, and it's time you accepted that he's going to be Shadow Fang's next alpha, and I will be ruling by his side.”
“Delilah, you don't—”
“No, Father. I don't want any more excuses.
Nothing excuses leaving Hunter out of tonight's dinner and tricking me into coming here alone.
Or when Mother gave him the wrong time to attend the party, so he'd be late.
What did you think? That I'd dance with the prince and change my mind about Hunter?
He's my fated mate, and it's a sacred bond for our kind.
It's time you both started treating it like one.”
Flinging my napkin on the table, I spin on my heel and storm out of the mansion, my body shaking with the aftermath of my sudden outburst. My mind is racing with questions about where that came from, or why I defended Hunter like that.
Hugging my arms over my chest, I decide to cool down before my inner wolf erupts, and with everything that's happened between Hunter and me, I know I can't go home.
Not yet.
I jog toward town, deciding to get a drink at the bar that might take the edge off after I threw a fit like that and stood up to my parents for the first time in my life. If I don't calm myself down, I'll take my rage out on someone who doesn't deserve it.
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 for us.
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.
“You have no right to be jealous,” I snap, noticing the bartender quietly slipping to the back to give us privacy. “It's not like our marriage is real anyway, right?”
“Right,” Hunter grunts and instantly gets to his feet, tapping his fingers on the counter in an impatient manner.
“So now that the prince is gone, I guess you won't be needing me or this marriage anymore,” he huffs through his nostrils before turning and marching toward the door, leaving me at the counter with a sinking feeling of dread.
Watching him walk away feels like closing a book I haven't read thoroughly. There's information I haven't fully grasped, and I can't let the book slip from my fingers.
That's what this feels like—like I'm losing him.
I'm losing Hunter as he walks away, and it's something I can't accept.
My heart won't let me, even if I've been clinging to the hurt he caused me in the past. It's this heart that held a world of love for him before, and I can't bear to see him leave like this, with so much unsaid.
I don't bother with the drink I thought I needed, rushing to the front of the door to go after him. To my surprise, Hunter is still standing on the sidewalk, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, his head hanging low.
My heart skips a beat when I see him, and I'm about to say something when he beats me to it.
“You want me to sign divorce papers now?” he scoffs without turning, prompting me to move ahead and face him.
“Divorce papers? Is that what you want?” I ask, my bottom lip trembling with the fear of losing him a second time, as if his question is another bout of rejection.
“It's what you will want now,” Hunter says as he lifts his head, the long strands of his dark hair sweeping his forehead, shielding his eyes, but I can see the way his eyes are glossed over with tears that glimmer like stars in the night sky.
My heart aches for him, for me, for us.
“It's not like you need me anymore…”
“Is that what you think?” I scoff to hide the way my heart is breaking. “You think I don't need you?”
“You never did, Delilah,” Hunter sighs despondently. “You've never needed me. Everything I touch turns to dust, anyway.”
I frown at Hunter. “What are you talking about? What do you mean by everything you touch turns to dust?”
Hunter looks up, and my heart skips another beat.
Our eyes meet in the silence with words unspoken, and he stares at me as if he can read my expression, my emotions, like a book he remembers every intricate detail of, every word.
He sighs, cutting through the silence, pursing his lips in contemplation as he stares into my eyes.
“It doesn't matter,” he dismisses, stepping over the sidewalk and passing me.
“It does matter, Hunter!” I call out after him, done with this constant back and forth. “When will you stop running and tell me what the hell is going on?! You keep shutting me out, and I don't know what else to do but keep you out! And I'm tired of it!”
Hunter turns slowly, his lips still pursed as his eyes narrow, his shoulders dropping as if he's letting go of tension.
“You won't look at me the same way when I tell you.”
“Try me,” I declare as I straighten up, ready to face whatever he throws my way. I've dealt with worse when he broke my heart, and nothing can be scarier than that.