Mates of a Werewolf Hunter

Chapter 4 Tread Lightly

Valentine Winters P.O.V

I woke up, finding myself still on the cold tiles. Puzzled about how I managed to doze off, I recalled feeling a sense of satisfaction and warmth in the middle of the night. Perhaps my mate had taken pity on me and turned off the air-conditioner.

My mate was nowhere to be seen, leaving me alone—or so I thought. The sound of the shower indicated his presence. What followed, however, had me stifling laughter.

He was rapping in the shower. Adorable, to say the least.

The shower turned off, and the room fell silent. I sat cross-legged on the floor. The shower door opened, revealing my mate in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist. My face turned crimson, and I averted my gaze.

A deep chuckle emanated from him as he walked into his walk-in closet. A few minutes later, he emerged, wearing a white beater and black jeans. His wet, messy hair gave him a sexy, unkempt look.

Sauntering towards me, he asked, "Want food, dog?" Hunger gnawed at me, but I shook my head defiantly. I refused to be treated like a dog.

"Wow! I didn't know dogs have feelings for calling them dogs," he chuckled at his own lame joke, finding amusement in my discomfort.

I shot him a death glare, but he merely smiled, dismissing it. "Think I'll get scared of your weak little glare? Think again. You just look foolish," he taunted, tugging on my hair to force me to look at him.

"As you're being stubborn, no food for three days," he declared before storming out, leaving me alone in the vast, unwelcoming room. Even for leaving the room, he went through all the passcode requirements.

I sighed, contemplating the challenges that lay ahead.

I don't even know where I am and can't even mind link with any of my pack members, which signifies that I'm very far from home.

With nothing else to occupy my time, I decided to explore the room. In one section, I found an impressive display of trophies—ranging from lacrosse to football, basketball to softball, hockey, and more. The first, second, and third place accolades suggested he excelled in various sports. It was surprising, but for a moment, I found myself missing the mundane routine of school—the camaraderie with friends and even the occasional complaints about teachers. A nostalgic smile crossed my face at the memory.

Curiosity led me to his desk and drawers, revealing a collection of certificates proudly bearing the name Lucifer Argent. The sarcasm in my thoughts couldn't be contained. I couldn't resist the temptation to have a little fun, so I sat in his chair, playfully spinning it around. It was only later that I remembered the omnipresent security cameras—oops.

I returned to the safety of the tiles beside the bed, crossing my arms and patiently awaiting my mate's return. Almost two hours passed, and he still hadn't shown up. Hunger gnawed at me, and my patience wore thin. Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, surrendering to an unplanned nap.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut, jolting me awake. In my disoriented state, I accidentally banged my head against the wall. Cursing and nursing my sore head, I looked up to find my mate standing there, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Had he been carrying it this morning? I must not have noticed.

"Did you hurt yourself, pet? Be careful next time," he remarked casually. I shot him an annoyed glance, rubbing the sore spot on my head.

"Where did you go?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"School," he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. I sighed and shook my head.

Wait, he's still in school?

"Aren't you too old for schooling?" I blurted out before thinking.

"How old do you think I am?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow with a hint of amusement.

"Twenty or twenty-one?"

"I, a seventeen-year-old boy, look that old?" he faux complained, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

My jaw dropped. Seventeen? He was just seventeen?

"Close your mouth, dearie, unless you want something of mine in it," he smirked, his comment oozing with innuendo.

I closed my mouth abruptly, shooting him a glare.

He casually sat on his bed, pulling out books and a pencil box. Opening them, he began writing, and I couldn't help but lean in to see what he was doing.

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

"Homework," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I could assist," I offered, surprising even myself with the willingness to help.

He stared at me, contemplating whether to accept my offer. After a moment's hesitation, he shoved some books, along with a pencil, pen, and eraser, toward me. It turned out to be a set of mathematical problems.

I showed him how to solve the problems, introducing easier formulas, and he caught on quickly. With each problem, his understanding grew, and he finished the assignments efficiently, stowing them away in his bag.

Not even a word of thanks.

I settled back on the tiles. "Well done, pet. Didn't know you could be useful," he complimented, his tone condescending.

"I have a name," I muttered, irritated.

"What's that?" he taunted.

"I said I have a name," I repeated, raising my tone.

"Let me guess. Marmaduke?" he chuckled.

"My name is Valentine Winters," I retorted.

"Neat name, but I think Pet suits you better," he grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

"Take a shower; there are clothes in the sink every other day," he stated.

I nodded and walked into the shower, closing the door behind me and leaning against it. I stripped and showered, eventually putting on the clothes that clung to me like a second skin. They were so tight I could barely breathe, and they were somewhat see-through, especially the shorts, which felt more like panties. They barely covered my private areas.

Trudging out, the cool air hit me like a ton of ice bricks. I shivered, feeling the chill intensify as I hadn't eaten anything. I sat down on the freezing tiles, hugging myself tight as the lights went off.

It was freezing cold, and I was starving and thirsty. Still in a sitting position, my mate turned to me.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked tiredly. Even in the darkness, I could see him clearly with my werewolf eyesight.

"Hungry," I replied truthfully.

He sat up. "It was your fault," he blamed.

"It was your choice to punish me," I defended.

"All you had to do was ask for food," he spoke.

"Would you have given me any?" I questioned.

"No," he stated.

"You are heartless," I snarled.

In an instant, he jumped from his bed, pinning me against the wall by my neck, my legs dangling in the air. He had a death grip on my neck, suffocating me, and I struggled to claw his hands off.

"You do not talk to me in such a manner!" he roared.

"Fuck you!" I managed to say, gasping for breath.

His eyes dimmed a little, and I struggled to take in some air as he tightened his grip further, black spots dancing around my vision.

"If that's what you want, that's what you'll get," he said in a dangerous voice, throwing me onto his bed harshly.

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Valentine Winters