Page 34 of Hunted

"No siblings? How many aunts and uncles?" she presses, ever inquisitive. Doesn't she know some things are better left buried?

A wave of darkness washes over me as memories of my parents' cruelty resurface—things I've tried so hard to bury.

"My parents were harsh," I say finally, keeping my back to her as I crack eggs into a bowl more forcefully than necessary. "Survival of the fittest was their philosophy. They raised me to be a hunter, to take what I wanted by any means."

I can still hear my father's gruff voice, berating me for any show of weakness.

"You're the alpha, boy. Ain't no room for softness if you want to make it in this world."

Zara must sense the tension radiating off me because she doesn't push further. A heavy silence stretches between us as I continue mechanically prepping our breakfast.

Finally, she speaks again. "Is that why you and Tor don't get along? Some sort of alpha rivalry between you two?"

A harsh bark of laughter escapes my lips at the irony. If only she knew the full truth—that my father had drilled that toxic alpha mentality into us from birth, insisting there could only be one in a family.

My father used to make me watch from a young age when he mated with my mother and my aunt, his sister. As well as other women in the family. Since she lived with us, and he was the alpha male, he was the one who had to satisfy and breed any women living with us. Tor and I are actually half-brothers as well as cousins, but Tor is inbred, and it fucked with him a bit mentally. He’s far more unhinged than me.

"Something like that," I mutter, jaw clenching at the memories. I can still hear the cold, emotionless tone in my father's voice the day he gave me the choice—kill or be killed.

A tremor runs through me as I remember the shock of realizing my own father expected me to take his life. Still, the will to survive had been ingrained in me so deeply that, in the end, I did what I had to.

I clear my throat, eager to shift the conversation away from the darkness of my past. "Enough about me and my family. Tell me about yours. What were your parents like growing up?" There's a part of me that is shocked to even hear me ask.

Zara gives a small shrug. "Oh, you know, pretty typical, I guess. My dad was a high school football coach, and my mom was a homemaker."

A wistful look crosses her delicate features. "They’ve always supported me and my interests, even when I decided to go into atmospheric science instead of something more traditional for a small-town Minnesota girl."

I nod along, genuinely interested in learning more about the woman who has so thoroughly captivated me. "You were a small-town girl? I can't quite picture that."

A low, melodious laugh escapes her lips. "Why? Because I'm too sophisticated and worldly for you?"

"Something like that," I tease. "Though I definitely wouldn't call you sophisticated."

Zara gasps in mock offense, swatting my arm playfully. "Hey, watch it! This small-town girl will put you in your place."

"Is that a promise?" I growl, pulling her flush against me so she can feel the effect her playful banter is having. Her breath catches, those green eyes darkening with desire.

Clearing her throat, she tries to regain her composure. “As I was saying, yes, just a typical Midwestern upbringing. We didn't have much, but my parents made sure my brother and I never wanted for anything."

The mention of a sibling piques my interest. "You have a brother?"

She nods. "Mmhmm, Kyle. He's a few years older than me. Followed in our dad's footsteps and now coaches at our old high school since dad retired a couple years ago.”

I keep my expression neutral, but I can't stop the jealousy that courses through me at the thought of another man in her life—even if he is just family. The irrational part of my brain doesn't care about the details. All it knows is the white-hot possessiveness I feel over her.

"Sounds like you were close with your brother growing up," I say carefully, watching her face for any telling reaction.

Zara's eyes soften. "We were. Typical sibling stuff—we fought like cats and dogs sometimes, but I could always count on Kyle having my back when it mattered." A wistful smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "I remember this one time in middle school there was this bully who kept tormenting me about my braces. Kyle found out, and the next day at school, he...well, let's just say that kid never messed with me again after that."

My jaw clenches at the thought of some little punk harassing what's mine. The urge to track this person down and make them pay is overwhelming. She seems to pick up on the tension rolling off me in waves.

“Aksel? Are you okay?" She places a gentle hand on my arm, brow furrowed with concern.

Forcing myself to unclench my fists, I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. "Yeah, sorry. Just got a little heated there thinking about someone treating you like that."

Zara moves a little closer. "It's okay," she murmurs, trailing her fingers up my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. "That was a long time ago, and Kyle ensured I was protected, just like you do now."

The implication of her words isn't lost on me. She sees me as the new protector in her life, someone who will go to violent lengths to keep her safe if needed.

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