The words impact me in a way I’d never expect. It’s not the threat itself but my response to it, with relief so profound it takes my breath away.
My heart pounds against my ribs as the implications sink in. Not just a year of being owned and displayed, but potentiallyforever.
“Say it,” Xavier commands, his fingers resuming their maddening pressure. “Tell me you want to be owned by me. Tell me you want to belong to me. I need to hear the words from those pretty lips.”
My mouth feels dry, and my voice is barely a whisper when I finally manage to speak. “I want to be yours—owned.”
The words feel foreign on my tongue and strangely liberating.
“I want to belong to you.”
“That’s my good girl,” Xavier murmurs, rewarding my confession with a slow, deliberate circle against my clit that makes me shudder. “So honest. So perfect.”
The praise permeates me like a drug, flooding my system with warmth that has nothing to do with arousal. When did I start craving his approval? When did pleasing this man become more important than my own principles?
What the fuck has gotten into me?
I built my entire identity around independence, never needing validation from a man, especially one who thought he could control me.
Now I’m sitting naked in a den of depravity, practically purring because Xavier called me a good girl. Actually, no, not justagood girl—hisgood girl.
He pauses, then his thumb presses harder against the silk between my legs. “Most women take weeks to accept their place. But you’ve surrendered so beautifully, as if you were born to belong to me.”
His words should make me sick. It should trigger every feminist bone in my body to rebel against this archaic dynamic. Instead of feeling disgusted, I almost feel proud of his words, and that might be the most depraved thing of all.
The woman who demanded answers from corrupt politicians, who never backed down from a fight, who built her reputation on refusing to be intimidated—she’s been systematically dismantled and reforged.
Xavier has molded me into a needy slut who craves his touch, his approval, and his dominance.
“Look at how wet you get from my praise,” he whispers against my ear, his fingers sliding inside me.
The direct contact makes me gasp, my hips bucking against his hand. I can barely process anything beyond Xavier’s fingers and the filthy words he’s pouring into my ear.
“You were made for this, weren’t you?”His voice carries absolute certainty. “Made to be my perfect little fucktoy.”
The crude term should offend me. It should snap me out of this haze and remind me who I am. But instead, it sends another wave of heat through me, my pussy clenching around him as if trying to pull him deeper.
What kind of person have I become that being called a fucktoy makes me wet?
37
XAVIER
After the feast, the prey are ushered to a room adjoining the hall to prepare for the claiming ceremony. The women filter back into the orgy room, each in an exquisite mask that matches the one her hunter wears as they wait for the final part of the Hunt.
There isn’t a single remnant of the earlier debauchery that took place in the chamber. The linens, pillows, and accessories have been replaced with fresh ones. The scent of sweat and sex—gone. The dais, now at the center of the room, has a mirror that covers it seamlessly, edge to edge, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Every angle of their naked bodies, every inch of skin, every muscle twitch will be visible as the final claim is witnessed.
It strips the last inch of modesty from each woman and man who might be claimed for the next twelve months, depending on the hunter’s individual wishes.Each hunter has put their masks back on, as is expected for the ceremony.
There’s a subtle shift in atmosphere. The air grows thick with anticipation, power dynamics crackling between each hunter and their prey.
Landon steps forward.
He’s always preferred the clean simplicity of a single encounter of the three-day annual event—take what he wants, then walk away without complications. Emotional attachments are a weakness in our world, a fact I’ve drilled into each of my brothers since we took control of Ravenwood’s underground.
But now, he’s standing before the assembly, his white mask back in place as he addresses Sadie Reynolds with quiet authority.
