Hunter (12 page)

I bit my tongue so I wouldn't laugh. Not even Gaige Pontarelli's glare bothered me.

Bossy Adriana was hot.

It wasn't helping my cock calm down.

“You're trusting him over me?” Gaige snorted. “Jesus, Addy.”

“He's here on Darien's orders.” She sighed. “He knows if I get hurt Darien will hurt
him
. Please, Gaige?”

“Fine.” He clenched his jaw. “But I don't fucking like it, and I don't trust him.”

“I'm not asking you to.” She rubbed her forehead and tugged her towel up higher on her chest. “You just have to trust me. I don't particularly trust him either.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She cut me a dark look.

Gaige gave me a look along the same vein. It lasted for all of two seconds before he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed his lips against her cheek.

My chest burned as the muscles in my arms tightened. I wanted to ball my hand into a fist and slam it into his perfect fucking nose. I rolled my shoulders back, swallowing down the tinge of jealousy, and tried to block out the image of blood pouring out his nose as he lay on the floor.

I was so fucked.

I almost wanted to kill him for touching her like that.

I glared after him as he left. The smugness practically radiated off of him. I didn't trust myself not to follow him, so I folded my arms, pressing my hands against my ribs, and headed for the back door. I could feel Adriana's eyes burning into my back, but I ignored her and kept walking.

If I didn't get inside, I'd follow the smug son of a bitch and cut his lip so badly he couldn't do it again.

The feeling was alien. I knew jealousy. I knew protectiveness. I knew what it was like to shield someone, to want them to be safe no matter what... but this wasn't danger. This was good old fucking envy.

Never mind that her face had been millimeters from mine just minutes before and that he was the one she'd sent away. The fact that she had some kind of close relationship with Gaige fucking Pontarelli had my stomach coiling in rage.

She doesn't belong to you, asshole.

I cricked my neck and took a seat at the kitchen island. She didn't belong to me. I had to keep telling myself that. It didn't matter about the past or that I was supposed to protect her.

She wasn't mine. Mine to protect, sure. But not mine.

Hunter looked like he was ready to kill.

It was strange. I'd never seen him like that before, but I was sure that when he stalked past me, murder shone in his eyes.

I should have been scared.

I wasn't.

I didn't know why. Maybe it was because I knew he wouldn't hurt me. His anger wasn't directed to me—it was at Gaige, and I couldn't help but think he was right in being annoyed. Gaige had kissed my cheek for no reason other than to piss Hunter off, and I think Hunter knew it.

I hoped Hunter knew it.

Honestly, I was annoyed at Gaige myself. There was no need to kiss my cheek so blatantly.

But then he always kissed me when I left—so why did I have a problem with it now? Was it because it obviously pissed Hunter off?

Why was I so bothered about the guy who'd tried to kill me two days ago?

I wiped my hand down my face and made my way toward the house. Why did Darien have to have Hunter babysit me? Jesus—the biggest threat to my life was the one protecting me.

I was starting to think that maybe it wasn't just my life he was a threat to. Maybe he threatened my very existence just by being around me. Lord only knew I couldn't fucking think straight when he was around me.

It was his eyes, I reasoned, closing the back door behind me and locking it. It was definitely his eyes. One day, that mixture of steely gray and molten silver would be my undoing. He'd unravel me like a loose string on a scarf, unwillingly caught.

I grabbed two dry towels from the cupboard in the hall and ran into the bathroom. My heart burned, and I didn't know why. Gaige was pissed off, Hunter was pissed off, and Darien was in turmoil.

I would have killed for a girlfriend I could spill everything to. But I didn't have one.

Not one that would understand. All I really had was Gaige... until Hunter appeared.

Now I didn't think I had anyone at all.

I stripped off and stepped into the shower. I turned the water right up as hot as I could bear it, then leaned against the tiles. The water pounded down on me like a deep massage, and I closed my eyes as the droplets trailed over my skin.

Hot liquid streamed down my cheeks, but I couldn't tell if it was the water or my tears. The past few days had been fraught with uncertainty and surprises, and despite my resolve to overthrow my father, I was overwhelmed by the possibility of everything and the knowledge of absolutely nothing.

My life felt like it was falling apart at the seams, and I briefly wondered if I had the strength to sew it back together.

Jesus—what was happening to me? I wasn't a teenage girl whose life was falling into disarray.

I was a motherfucking mafia princess who owned an empire.

I wiped at my cheeks and grabbed my shampoo. I had to formulate a plan to deal with the immediate issue; the testosterone fueled bitching between Hunter and Gaige. I wasn't going to deal with it. I wasn't the kind of woman who found it thrilling.

I found it annoying. You wanna fight? Okay, sure. Get the fuck outside and deal with it your fists. You're not teenagers. Settle the score once and for all and get over yourselves.

My tolerance for that petty bitchiness they'd exhibited earlier was at a firm zero.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my body and hair in the towels, then killed the water. I hoped Hunter wasn't still mad—I wanted to talk to him about Gaige. I didn't know why I felt the need to explain myself. I didn't
need
to explain myself, not to him, to Gaige, to anyone. But I wanted to.

It worried me. I didn't want to want to want to explain. I didn't want to want anything except for revenge on my father, and I certainly didn't want to want anything to do with Hunter.

Once I was dressed and had braided my wet hair, I went downstairs and in search of him. I found him at the back of the house, the room Darien dubbed his 'man cave.' It was different to the rest of the house in the sense it had his personal style in everything from the dark wooden floors to the striped curtains. In it lived the largest television screen I'd ever seen, plus a pool table right in the middle.

Hunter was at the pool table, smashing the balls around it. I paused in the doorway and watched him. His wet t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, his muscles hinting through the thin material, from his shoulders right down to where I could see at the top of his stomach. His biceps stretched against the arms of it, and he bent down, seemingly unaware of my presence, and potted a spotted ball perfectly.

“Here.” He held out the pool cue. “Wanna play?”

Well that was strange. “Uh, I'm good. Do you want some dry clothes? You're probably the same size as Darien, right?”

“Probably.” He bent down again and hit a striped ball. It bounced out of the mouth of the pocket, coming to rest in the center of the table. “Crap.”

“Let me go see what I can find.”

“No underwear.” He looked up and smirked as he got in position behind the white ball.

“Got it.” I grimaced and walked through the house to the laundry room.

There was nothing weirder than going to find him clothes while he played pool. How did he even know where that room was? Or that it existed? Maybe he just needed something to do before he left and killed Gaige.

I found a t-shirt and a pair of jeans in Darien's clean laundry pile. For the first time ever, I wasn't mad about his failure to put away his clean clothes. I smiled to myself as I took them back to the man cave and handed them to Hunter.

I didn't know what I expected, but it wasn't for him to put down the pool cue and whip his shirt over his head. I blinked several times before turning away. His laughter echoed through the room, but I bit down on the inside of my lower lip and kept my eyes on the floor.

It wasn't like I'd never seen a guy without clothes on, and I wasn't afraid to see a guy without clothes on.

He was just... different.

He was Hunter.

“You can turn around now,” he said in a low voice, laughter hinting at each word.

I let out a sigh of relief and turned. “Thank y—” I sucked in a sharp breath as my breasts brushed against his chest.

His. Bare. Chest.

“Where's your shirt?” I breathed out.

“On the floor. Wet.” He smirked.

“I meant Darien's. That shirt. Not yours. I know yours is wet.”

Oh God, he was hot.

This was wrong.

“On the chair. I need to dry off before I put it on.”

Sure you do.
I swallowed hard and took a step back. That didn't help, because all it did was put his whole body in my line of view, and Jesus fucking Christ, it was one hell of a body.

All perfectly chiseled muscle, from the sharply defined abs that ran down the center of his stomach, to the teasing lines that swept above his hips beneath the waistband of the jeans. And right between those lines of sex god muscle, just peeking over the button of his pants, was a black tattoo. I couldn't make it out fully, but it looked like some kind of mythical creature.

I forced myself to look up at his face. I failed. Miserably. My eyes fell on his right arm and the ink tattooed onto his bicep. I'd never been able to see it fully before, but it was an angel, kneeling, her wings spread out behind her. My fingers itched to reach forward and trace the feathers that made up her wings.

It seemed out of character for him, but yet... fittingly perfect. Killer, assassin... Angel of death.

Was that what it signified? That he was the
angelo della morte
?

“Are you done staring at me yet?”

My eyes snapped upwards and locked onto his. “Screw you.”
Mature, Adriana. Nice.

He chuckled quietly. “The option is there,
Principessa.
”

That pissed me off. “Listen here,
stronzo.
” I jabbed my finger against his solid chest. Asshole. “We're not kids anymore. We're not goddamn soulmates. We're not even friends. We're strangers, Hunter, and you're a prize fucking prick.” I took a step closer to him and tilted my head back to hold out gaze. “I don't give a fuck if you're here on my father's orders. Remember who has the Romano blood. Remember who you belong to.”

The amusement disappeared from his eyes, and they went cold. Chills cascaded across my skin from the iciness of his gaze, but inside, a fire roared. His flip-flopping attitude from killer to friend to suggestive piece of shit pissed me the hell off. I wasn't going to take it, no matter how attracted to him I was.

“Who I belong to?” he said in a deathly low voice that was almost threatening. “Is that you, Adriana?”

“Funny, isn't it?” I responded in the same tone. “I'm Princess when you're cocky, but Adriana when I call you out. Your respect needs some goddamn work, Rosso.”

No sooner had I turned away than he'd grabbed my upper arm and had me pinned against the wall. His body was hot despite his cold, steel gaze, and he held me in place. I couldn't move, and it wasn't for a lack of trying. He was simply too strong with his hands wrapped around my arms and one of his legs between mine.

“My respect?” He dipped his head down so his warm breath skated over my lips. “
My
respect? How about your own, Adriana? You're pretty fucking short on it yourself. Just because I won't kill you doesn't mean I can't. I could put my hands around your neck right now and you'd be dead in five minutes.”

Defiance flared through my veins. “So fucking
do it.
”

He laughed, each sound as cold as the soul I was sure he didn't have. “I already told you won't.” He let go of my arms and moved backward. “You might be princess, but you're not fucking queen yet.”

I wanted to laugh in his face, but I couldn't. My mother was dead. The queen was dead. That meant one thing—her crown was mine, whether his punk ass liked it or not. Instead of reacting, I acted.

My arm shot out, my hand connecting with his cheek. The sharp slap rung out through the room, echoing off the walls and the ceiling, bouncing back and forth until all it rang in my ears.

Hunter clenched his jaw and a raised a fist to his cheek. His knuckles brushed across it, and for the first time, the tiniest pinch of fear flickered in the pit of my belly. But I didn't move. I stood my ground.

He deserved it. He deserved more.

Then, like a predator waiting to strike, he pounced on me.

His solid body collided with mine against the wall. He grabbed my thighs and lifted me, sliding one leg between mine, and his mouth found mine. I wound my fingers in his hair as he kissed me harshly. His tongue slid across my lips, forcing me to part my lips, and when I did, he kissed me so deeply my head started to spin.

His fingers dug into my ass as I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him into me. His hard cock pressed against my pussy through my cotton shorts, and my hips involuntarily flexed against him. A groan rumbled low in his throat, but the move only spurred him on.

He held me tighter, kissed me deeper, drove me wilder.

He was everywhere. All over my skin, under it, around it. I knew this was wrong but I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't stop my heart pounding against my ribs or my stomach fluttering or my pussy clenching. It was all anticipation, all revered wonder, waiting to see if one of us would stop this craziness.

“Don't let me do this,” Hunter rasped against my mouth, gently biting my lower lip. “Fuck,
bella
. Don't let me ruin you.”

“You can't ruin something that isn't perfect,” I whispered back to him, my blood thundering through my body.

“Make me stop,” he murmured, kissing down my neck.

I gasped when his tongue circled my pulse point. “My bedroom is the first door on the right.”

“Adriana.”

“
Hunter.
”

“Fuck.” He pulled me away from the wall, his grip never wavering on me. Thrill shot down my spine like a bolt of lightning, and my whole body tingled with the promise of what was to come.