Page 45 of The Hunter
I blinked at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that transpired yesterday. I hadn’t seen Henry again after dinner. He’d stormed off like he couldn’t stomach the sight of me.
I should have been afraid of him. In some distant, rational part of my brain, I was.
But I sensed something else hiding beneath that steel exterior. A warmth that didn’t feel like cruelty. It was probably just desperation. My mind latching onto any scrap of kindness it could find after years of inhumanity.
Regardless of the reason, hedidfeed me. Covered me with a blanket. Made sure I didn’t freeze to death. That didn’t seem like the typical behavior of a kidnapper. Of someone who wished me harm.
Of a monster.
So what the hell was he?
And why was I here?
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded to the bathroom. I nearly stepped into the shower out of habit. Victor hated when I left the bedroom looking less than polished. Said it reflected poorly on him, even if the only people who saw me were the members of our household staff.
Victor liked things done his way, and there was no arguing with him, unless I wanted to suffer the consequences. But Victor wasn’t here. And I didn’t have anything else to change into anyway.
I splashed some cold water on my face, twisted my blonde waves into a messy bun, and followed the aroma of bacon downstairs.
The cabin was quiet this morning. A fire flickered in the hearth, and the pillows and blankets on the oversized couch were still strewn where I’d left them.
For the first time in years, nothing around me had been arranged for aesthetic perfection. I didn’t feel like I was living in a museum, always having to be cautious about what I did.
Instead, I felt something I didn’t think I ever would again…
Freedom.
It was an odd thought, considering I was being held captive.
But I’d rather be Henry Fontaine’s captive than Victor Kane’s wife.
As I padded toward the kitchen, the scent of bacon grew stronger with every step. Golden light filled the space, illuminating Henry’s physique as he stood by the stove, hisdark hair disheveled, one hand gripping a pair of tongs, the other holding a strip of bacon. Cato sat loyally at his feet, tail thumping, eyes fixed on his prize.
“I really shouldn’t be giving you this,” Henry said to him. “But I can’t say no to you when you look at me that way. And you know it. Don’t you, pal?”
I did my best to remain completely silent as I watched him interact with Cato. There was something disarmingly sweet about him as he spoke to his dog when he thought he was alone.
If hereallywas an irredeemable asshole, he wouldn’t care about his dog. Wouldn’t look upon him with affection. Wouldn’t spoil him with a special treat. But he did, tossing a piece of bacon his way.
Cato inhaled it in one eager gulp, then returned to his watchful pose, hopeful.
“I’m a complete sucker,” Henry muttered under his breath before tossing yet another piece of bacon to the dog, this one much bigger than the last.
As he chewed, he swung his dark eyes toward me. His ears perked up, tail wagging harder. Henry looked up a beat later, his smile quickly disappearing.
“Morning,” he said flatly.
“Morning.”
“Breakfast’s almost ready.” He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Do you cook for all your captives?” I attempted a joke, hoping to coax that smile back.
Why did I want it back?
Why did I care?
But he was just as indifferent as ever.
