Page 23 of Cursed
“Pike’s daughter won’t know what hit her...”
“...been waiting years to make that self-righteous bastard pay...”
“...taking turns with his precious little princess...”
They’d laughed then, their voices lowered to whispers I couldn’t make out. I’d thought nothing of it at the time, too consumed with my own anxiety.
Now, watching them take turns with Cora, I understand. This isn’t just part of the Hunt. It’s calculated revenge against her father.
I should run—Landon could appear any second—but I’m frozen in place, transfixed by the scene before me. My breath catches as I watch them with Cora.
What surprises me most is my own reaction. Heat blooms across my skin, and I press my thighs together against the unexpected throb between them. Despite the concerning context, it’s undeniably erotic to watch them with her.
Cora looks overwhelmed by it all. Her eyes wide and glassy as the men surround her. She gasps, her body trembling when one man grips her hair roughly while another traces patterns across her skin. At times, she seems to drift away, her expression vacant before snapping back to the present with a shudder.
And yet a soft moan tears from her lips as one of them pinches her nipple.
Cora isn’t resisting at all. In fact, she’s arching into their touch, her moans echoing off the concrete walls as one man withdraws from her mouth and another takes his place. Her legs strain against the leather cuffs, not to close them, but seemingly to spread them wider.
“More,” she gasps between thrusts. “Please, more.”
The men exchange glances. One of them—tall with broad shoulders—runs his hand possessively down her throat.
“You hear that? The Mayor’s daughter is begging for more.”
That’s when I see it—the flash of coldness in his eyes that doesn’t match the passion of the moment.
Cora moans again, lost in pleasure, completely unaware of what I now understand with chilling clarity: she has no idea why they targeted her. She thinks this is part of the Hunt—consensual despite its intensity. But those men, they’re using her body as a weapon against her father.
I notice her expression flicker briefly, confusion crossing her features as she catches one of their calculated glances. For a moment, awareness seems to dawn in her eyes before pleasure overwhelms her again, pulling her back under their spell.
My stomach twists with unease.
What if they don’t stop at sex?
What if their revenge requires permanence?
An act that would truly destroy her father?
I back away from the door, conflicted. The image of their naked bodies moving together burns in my mind even as fear rises in my throat. I need to find help, but who? The Blackwood brothers? Would they even care?
A sudden noise behind me shatters my thoughts.
“Little butterfly.”
Landon’s voice slithers down the corridor, freezing my blood. Not distant, but close. Too close. He’s found me.
“I know you’re there, watching. Such a curious little butterfly, aren’t you?”
I jerk away from the door, heart hammering against my ribs. My muscles tense, every nerve ending screaming at me to run. His footsteps echo, deliberately paced, like a clock counting down to my destruction. He knows he has me cornered.
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to spy?” His voice drops lower. “Or perhaps you’re learning what excites you.”
I glance back at the partially open door. Cora is still bound, still surrounded by those three men. I should act. But what can I do? I’m one woman against men who planned this.
“I’m coming for you.” The shadows at the end of the corridor shift. A white mask emerges, floating like a ghost in the darkness. Landon.
My body makes the decision before my mind can catch up. Flight wins. I bolt in the opposite direction, guilt and fear battling for dominance.
