Don't Breathe a Word

Don’t Breathe a Word A Whisper in the Dark, #2 Chani Lynn Feener ALSO BY CHANI LYNN FEENER The Underworld Saga Unhinged Unleashed Unbound Unabated The Xenith Trilogy Amid Stars and Darkness Between Frost and Fury Within Ash and Stardust The Roses Red Trilogy Tithe Revelry Accord Seven Deadlies Bad Things Play Here The Goblin Path Two Worlds Duology Across From You Ulalume A Bright Celestial Sea Gods of Mist and Mayhem A Sea of Endless Light Abandoned Things Don’t Breathe A Word A Whisper in the Dark, #2 Chani Lynn Feener This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Don’t Breathe a Word Copyright @ 2023 by Chani Lynn Feener. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author. Front Cover design by QuirkyCirce. Printed in the United States of America. First edition—2023 Chapter 1: “Go away.” Those words had never worked before but he tried them again now anyway. He had to. He couldn’t give in. Hostility was all he had left. Hunter Thorn was trapped. And the man keeping his hostage was currently walking across the room, casually undoing the buttons of his dress shirt as if he wasn’t a complete and total monster. “This is my room,” Odin said, voice even and light. He’d only just returned from business somewhere in the club on the lower levels of the building and had been gone most of the day. His suit was crisp and the shade of pine needles, the silk shiny in the dim overhead light set in the center of the elegant bedroom. Odin Snow’s bedroom. It’d been decorated in muted tones of white and gold and black, with the large king-sized bed pressed against the right wall. A dresser and wardrobe made of dark wood were on the opposite side of the entrance, the bathroom door next to them. Then there was a sitting area in front of a fireplace which was almost always lit, the orange flames flickering, the sound of popping logs the only other noise amongst them. There was enough space for Hunter to run around even, if he wanted, but still. No matter how big the room, a cage was still just a cage. And he’d grown sick of his. “Let me out.” He’d wanted to sound confident, demanding, but his voice shook a little at the end. Odin paused, in the process of removing his multi-slate—the body-born computer everyone carried around—from his pocket. He regained his composure quickly enough, however, setting the device on top of the dresser before slipping out of his jacket and hanging it up. He was meticulous in his movements, slow and steady. It was a rouse. Hunter was sitting in the center of the bed, the rumpled charcoal sheets and comforter beneath him. He’d put his clothes back on as soon as he’d woken but it was only a matter of time before they were forcibly stripped off again, and this little dance they were doing, the same one that had been going on for over a week now, was proof of that. Either Odin thought he was racking up the anticipation, or he was torturing Hunter on purpose. There was no way to be sure, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to cave and ask outright. He was clinging onto the last thread of pride he had left, clutching it tightly despite how obvious the outcome was going to be. Odin Snow, the Snow Dominus of the Brumal mafia, always got what he wanted. And if he wanted Hunter… He gulped before he could help it, shifting on the bed to keep Odin in front of him as the other man tugged off his silk dress shirt and moved toward the bathroom door. Odin slipped inside, the sound of moving items at the sink coming for a second, followed by running water. The water kept going even when he returned, stopping between the doorway and the bed. He met Hunter’s gaze and silently waited. “No.” Hunter shook his head and shifted back another half foot. “It’s been a few days,” Odin chided. “You need to wash.” He didn’t bother asking how Snow could be certain Hunter wasn’t showering during the day while he was alone, a bit too afraid of the answer. “It has not,” he disagreed. “You clean me every night…after.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, flushing in embarrassment when a knowing glint entered Odin’s deep brown eyes. “Don’t act like a child afraid of bath time,” he said, but it was clear from the upward tilt of his ruby-red lips that Odin was getting off on this exchange. He typically did. He liked when Hunter fought back, so much so, that more than once Hunter had considered giving in just to wipe that challenging glint off his face. The impossibility of his situation was all that kept him from doing so. All that would do was replace the challenging look with one of smug satisfaction. “I’m not,” he stated. “I’m acting like a pet because you’re treating me like one.” Odin cocked his head. “You’re free to leave this room whenever you want.” “Liar.” He took a step closer to the bed, slow and careful, clearly trying not to spook Hunter with his approach. It didn’t work. Hunter’s gaze dropped down the length of his bare chest and he crawled back another foot. Soon, he’d run out of bed and it was never good when his feet touched the ground. At least here, in the sea of blankets, on the mattress which had sides that needed climbing over, he stood a chance. Odin was faster and stronger. He’d be on him in a heartbeat if he so much as planted a toe on the ground. Hunter wasn’t sure when or