Mates of a Werewolf Hunter

Chapter 4 Tread Lightly

Valentine Winters' P.O.V

The cold tiles beneath me were a harsh reminder that this wasn't a nightmare I could wake up from. I blinked, trying to shake off the confusion. How had I fallen asleep here? Memories of a fleeting warmth in the middle of the night resurfaced. Perhaps my mate had shown a sliver of mercy by turning off the air conditioner. But now, the room was empty, save for the faint sound of running water.

A muffled noise caught my attention, and I realized with amusement that my mate was rapping in the shower. It was so unexpected, so human, that I nearly laughed out loud.

When the shower finally stopped, I quickly composed myself, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor. The bathroom door swung open, and out he came, clad in nothing but a towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist. The sight made my cheeks burn, and I turned my head away, embarrassed by the sudden wave of attraction.

He chuckled, a deep sound that resonated through the room as he walked into his closet. Minutes later, he emerged, dressed in a white tank top and black jeans, his damp hair tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly appealing. He strolled towards me with casual arrogance.

"Hungry, dog?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

Hunger gnawed at my insides, but I wasn't about to let him win. I shook my head, my defiance clear. I wasn't a dog to be commanded and fed on a whim.

"I forgot, dogs don't like being called what they are." he sneered, chuckling at his own cruel joke. I glared at him, but he brushed it off like it was nothing. "You think I'm scared of that weak little glare? Please, you just look foolish," he added, grabbing a fistful of my hair and forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Your stubbornness just cost you 3 days of no food." he declared, his tone casual, as if starving someone was a minor inconvenience. Then, he left, the door locking behind him.

I let out a long sigh, the weight of my situation settling in. I didn't even know where I was, and the fact that I couldn't mind-link with my pack meant I was far from home. Alone, in an unfamiliar place, I had little choice but to explore the room.

I wandered over to a section displaying rows of trophies—lacrosse, football, basketball, tennis—the list went on. First, second, third places, his achievements seemed endless. I found myself longing for the simplicity of school life, the routine of classes, and the comfort of friends. For a moment, I smiled, lost in the memory.

Curiosity drove me to his desk, where I discovered certificates proudly displaying the name "Lucifer Argent." I couldn't help but smirk at the absurdity. My inner mischief got the better of me, and I spun around in his chair a few times, indulging in the fleeting freedom. But then, I remembered the security cameras, and I stopped.

Feeling the minutes stretch into hours, I returned to the floor beside the bed, crossing my arms and waiting. Hunger was becoming unbearable, and I had no idea when he would return. Eventually, exhaustion won, and I dozed off, leaning against the wall.

The door slammed shut with a force that jolted me awake. In my groggy state, I banged my head against the wall, cursing softly as I rubbed the sore spot. My mate was back, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Was he carrying that this morning? I hadn't even noticed.

"Did you hurt yourself, pet?" he remarked casually, his tone patronizing. I shot him an annoyed glance.

"Where did you go?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"School." he replied with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Wait, school?

"Aren't you too old for school?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"How old do you think I am?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my shock.

"Twenty, maybe twenty-one?"

"I'm seventeen," he said, his tone light but edged with amusement.

Seventeen. My jaw dropped. He was just seventeen?

"Close your mouth, dearie, unless you want something of mine in it," he teased, his voice full of innuendo.

I snapped my mouth shut, glaring at him. He just laughed, settling onto his bed with a pile of books and a pencil box. He started writing, and I couldn't help but lean in.

"What are you doing?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Homework," he replied, not even looking up.

"I can help," I offered before I could think twice. Why was I even offering to help him?

He paused, eyeing me with suspicion before handing over some books and a pencil. The problems were complex, but I quickly found easier formulas and showed him how to solve them. He picked it up quickly, his focus intense. Once he finished, he shoved everything back into his bag without a word of thanks.

I settled back on the cold tiles, trying to ignore the growing ache in my stomach. "\ Didn't know you could be useful, pet" he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

"I have a name," I muttered, irritation flaring up.

"What's that?" he taunted.

"I said I have a name," I repeated, louder this time.

"My name is Valentine." I snapped.

"Neat name, but I think Pet suits you better," he grinned, pleased with himself.

"Take a shower; I got you new clothes." he said, waving me off.

I nodded and walked into the bathroom, leaning against the door as I closed it behind me. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the grime and tension. But when I put on the clothes he provided, they clung to me like a second skin, tight and uncomfortable. The shorts were so short they barely covered anything, and the material was nearly see-through.

Trudging back out, the cool air hit me, making me shiver. The lights went off, plunging the room into darkness. I sat on the freezing tiles, hugging myself to conserve warmth.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked, his voice tired.

"Hungry." I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

He sat up, his gaze piercing through the darkness. "It was your fault," he said, his tone accusing.

"You chose to punish me." I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady.

"All you had to do was ask." he said, as if it were that simple.

"Would you have given me any?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"No," he replied coldly.

"You're heartless," I snarled, anger flaring up inside me.

In an instant, he was off the bed, his hand around my throat, pinning me to the wall. My feet dangled off the ground as I clawed at his hand, struggling to breathe.

"You do not talk to me like that!" he roared; his voice full of fury.

"Fuck you!" I gasped out, desperate for air.

His eyes darkened, and he tightened his grip, the edges of my vision starting to blur. "If that's what you want, that's what you'll get," he said in a dangerously low voice, throwing me onto the bed with a force that knocked the wind out of me.

The room spun around me, and all I could think was that I was trapped in a nightmare with no way out.