Page 74 of Haunted

XAVIER

The horn’s final call echoes through the chamber, and I know time has run out. My hands unwrap the bindings I’d prepared earlier—deep crimson fabric that will mark her as mine while revealing every curve.

“Arms up,” I command.

Mira’s eyes flash with defiance, but she complies. I lift my shirt over her head, leaving her bare for only seconds before I begin wrapping the silk around her. The fabric skims across her skin like waves of fire, barely covering her breasts, leaving her midriff exposed, the bottom edge grazing the tops of her thighs.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, adjusting the strips of fabric to ensure they cling perfectly to every line of her form. “Absolutely exquisite.”

Her breath catches as I secure the final fold, the deep red making her skin glow like porcelain. Shelooks like a goddess prepared for sacrifice, and the image sends possessive heat coursing through my veins.

I take her hand, leading her from the chamber into corridors that grow increasingly ornate as we approach the center. Gold leaf adorns the walls, crystal chandeliers cast dancing shadows, and the sound of voices grows louder with each step.

“The orgy room,” I begin, my voice steady despite the tension building in my jaw, “is tradition. Every hunter brings their conquered prey to display their success. To... share in the celebration of the Hunt.”

The word ‘share’ feels like acid on my tongue. My muscles coil tighter with each syllable.

Mira glances up at me, studying my face with those damned perceptive eyes. “Share,” she repeats quietly.

I can’t meet her gaze. Can’t let her see the sheer possessiveness burning through me at the very thought of another man’s hands on her skin.

“Some hunters,” I continue through gritted teeth, “allow others to partake in their conquest. It’s considered... generous. Sporting.”

The silence stretches between us as we walk, broken only by the distant sounds of revelry ahead. My hand tightens around hers, knuckles white with the effort of maintaining control of myself.

“Will you?” Mira asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Share me?”

I stop walking, and fury blazes through me as I search her face. “Is that what you want?” The question comes out almost matter-of-fact, but I can’t disguise thesnarl as it escapes, dangerous and territorial. “Do you want other hands on your body? Other mouths touching those lips that belong to me?”

Mira jerks back as if I’ve struck her, those hazel eyes widening at the venom in my voice. The disdain of that thought as it bleeds through my words catches her off guard, and I watch her throat work as she swallows hard, the depth of fear in her eyes nearly palpable.

Fuck. I’m losing control, letting this woman unravel years of calculated composure. The realization should concern me more than it does.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head emphatically. “No, I don’t want that.”

The relief that crashes through me is immediate—a tidal wave I wasn’t prepared for. My shoulders relax slightly, tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying bled from my frame. Why the hell does her answer matter so much? Why does the thought of keeping her entirely to myself feel like the only acceptable outcome?

“I don’t want anyone else to touch me,” Mira continues, her voice gaining strength, though her resolve seems to waver. Is she struggling as much as I am to hold on to the hatred that fueled every encounter that led to this moment?. “Only you.”

Those two words—only you—rock me to my core. Something carnal and sated rumbles deep in my chest, a sound I’m not entirely proud of making.

I step closer, my free hand coming up to cup her jaw. “Good,” I murmur, my thumb brushing across her cheek. “Because the thought of another man putting his handson what’s mine makes me want to burn this entire place to the ground.”

Her eyes flutter closed at my touch, and I watch intently as she leans into my palm like she’s seeking comfort. Or maybe even a promise of protection for where she knows we are headed now.

My mouth curves into a dark smile as a different thought takes shape—one that makes my cock twitch with interest.

“But,” I continue, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that always makes her breath catch, “I bet you’ll get soaking fucking wet watching everyone else while I fuck you mercilessly. All those bodies moving together, all that desperate fucking happening around us while I make you scream my name loud enough for every hunter in that room to know exactly who owns you.”

Her sharp intake of breath tells me everything I need to know. The way her pupils dilate, the flush creeping down her neck, the subtle press of her thighs together—she’s already imagining it.

“The thought of being watched while I take you,” I murmur against her ear, “of everyone seeing how perfectly you fall apart for me... it excites you, doesn’t it?”

Mira doesn’t answer, but the way her pulse hammers against my thumb tells me everything. The flush spreading down her throat, the slight tremor in her hands—she’s already drowning in the images I’ve painted for her.

I take her silence as acceptance and guide herforward, my grip firm on her elbow as we approach the final corridor. The sounds grow louder now—moans, gasps, the wet slap of skin against skin. The heady scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air, thick enough to taste.

My jaw clenches as we near the ornate double doors. Six months of planning went into this room. Every detail was meticulously crafted, from the raised dais in the center to the strategically placed mirrors that would reflect every angle of conquest. I’d designed it to be the ultimate display of dominance. In this theater, hunters could showcase their prizes while others watched and waited for their turn.

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