Page 34 of Doomed (Blackwood Brothers #2)

KNOX

A blaring horn jolts me awake. Fuck. My eyes snap open, and I immediately check Bianca beside me, peacefully asleep despite the noise. She looks fucking perfect—hair splayed across my pillow, lips slightly parted. Mine.

But we can’t stay here. Not supposed to be in my private chambers—breaks tradition. Xavier would have my head.

I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Wake up, princess. Time to move.”

Her eyes flutter open, confusion clouding them before recognition sets in. “What’s that noise?”

“First warning horn for the feast.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We need to get you to the baths. Can’t show up looking like you’ve been thoroughly fucked, even if everyone knows you have.”

She blushes, that delicious pink spreading across her cheeks. I could spend hours making that color appear in different ways.

“We’re not supposed to be here?” she asks, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her chest.

“Tradition says prey should be in the communal prep rooms.” I shrug, already pulling on pants. “I make my own rules, but appearances matter.”

I guide her toward the door. The hallways are quieter than expected—everyone else is probably following protocol.

We’re almost at the bathing chambers when Vane appears, his eyes narrowing at the sight of us.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, gaze flicking between me and Bianca. “Prey is supposed to be in prep with the attendants.”

I drape my arm around Bianca’s shoulders, pulling her against my side. “Just giving my girl the VIP treatment. Problem?”

“Playing with fire, little brother,” Vane warns, though his mouth quirks. “Xavier notices, he’ll have your balls.”

“Let him try.” I flash my most irritating grin. “Besides, anyone who touches what’s mine loses a hand. You know how it works.”

Vane rolls his eyes, muttering “fucking idiot” before continuing down the hall.

I feel Bianca stiffen against me, her earlier relaxation evaporating. Interesting. My casual banter with Vane bothers her. I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, guiding her through the ornate doors to the private baths.

I lead Bianca into the massive marble bath that smells of sandalwood and vanilla. Steam rises from the water, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere around us.

“In you go,” I murmur, helping her into the warm water.

She sinks down with a soft sigh that goes straight to my cock. Fuck, everything about her affects me. I grab a cloth and some soap, kneeling at the edge of the bath.

“Let me,” I say, voice rougher than intended.

I start with her shoulders, gently dragging the soapy cloth across her skin in slow, circular motions. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” My fingers trail after the cloth, memorizing every inch. “The way you gave yourself to me in there—most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

I wash her breasts with special care, watching her nipples harden under my touch. “Beautiful.” My marks on her skin make my dick hard. Seeing them, knowing I did that, and she loved each one… Fuck.

Working my way down her body, I lift each limb from the water, treating her like a precious treasure, because she is. She’s my masterpiece come to life.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I admit, washing between her thighs with gentle strokes. “The way you take everything I give you—like you were made for me.”

When she’s clean, I help her from the bath and wrap her in a plush towel, patting her dry with unusual patience.

I’ve never been a patient man, but this feels different.

She feels different. She makes me want to get it right, which doesn’t necessarily mean right now.

She deserves a patient man, and for Bianca, that is what I will be.

From a nearby table, I retrieve the beautiful black dress with a deep slit up the leg—all the girls wear the same one. And then I dress in my suit, keeping my dick out of the zipper, as is customary for the feast.

“Perfect,” I whisper, stepping back to admire her. The dress elevates her to unearthly radiance—a gift to unwrap later. “You ready?”

Bianca looks down at herself, then meets my eyes with quiet calm.

“I’m ready.”

I lead Bianca down the grand hallway toward the feast room, her arm brushing against mine with each step. My fingers trace possessive patterns against her bare hip.

“Remember,” I whisper against her ear, “everyone will be watching you. But you belong to me.”

She shivers against my side, and I can’t help my smug grin. Fucking perfect.

We reach the massive oak doors. I pause, drinking in the sight of her one more time before we enter.

“Ready for your debut, princess?”

She nods, eyes wide but determined.

I push open the doors, and conversation falters as all eyes turn to us.

The feast room gleams with candlelight reflected in polished surfaces.

A massive table dominates the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs—twelve of them already occupied by hunters, all fully dressed in expensive suits with one obvious modification.

Each man’s cock stands proudly through his open zipper, a grotesque formal wear tradition that always amuses me.

Beside each seated hunter stands their claimed prey, all in similar dresses—none of them looks as perfect as Bianca.

I notice empty seats for Vane, Xavier, and me. Fashionably late, as expected.

“Ah, our resident jester finally arrives,” calls Landon from across the table. Standing next to him is a brunette.

I guide Bianca to my chair, where she settles in, and keep her standing, my hand firmly at her waist.

The doors open again, and Vane strides in, looking smug as fuck. Lia is beside him, wearing the same black dress, but her arms are decorated in green ribbons that match his mask. He takes his seat, pulling Lia close with possessive dominance.

Minutes later, the room falls silent as Xavier enters with Mira, his commanding presence demanding attention before he’s even fully through the doorway.

Xavier settles into his chair with that cold, imperial air that’s always marked him as our leader. His gaze sweeps the room before landing on Mira.

“Come here,” he commands.

She approaches him on shaky legs, and I can’t help but smirk at her uncertainty. Xavier doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. His hands grip her waist, pulling her directly onto his lap with her back against his chest.

I watch with growing interest as Xavier’s hand slides beneath the slit in her dress, parting her legs casually to drape over his thighs. The glass tabletop conceals nothing—the bastard’s making sure we all get the full view of his conquest.

“Xavier, what are you—” Mira starts to question.

Her words cut off in a sharp gasp as Xavier lifts her slightly and brings her down onto his cock. The room collectively inhales at the display. Always the fucking showman.

I turn to Bianca, who’s watching with wide eyes, her breath coming faster. “Come here, princess,” I growl, pulling her onto my lap before she can respond.

She gasps as I position her like Mira, her fingers gripping the edge of the glass table. I thrust upward, entering her in one smooth stroke, loving how perfectly she takes me.

“That’s it,” I murmur against her ear as she shudders around me. “Let them see who you belong to.”

Across the table, Vane’s already got his hands under Lia’s dress, lifting her easily. His eyes meet mine in silent competition as he seats her on his cock.

My attention shifts to Cora, accompanied by her three hunters. Dominic has her impaled on his lap, her face a fascinating canvas of shame. The other two flank her like wolves, hands exploring every inch of exposed skin they can reach.

“Think they’ll pass her around?” I whisper to Bianca, feeling her clench around me at the suggestion.

The feast has officially begun, and no one’s focused on food at all.

I keep Bianca pinned on my lap, feeling her clench around me. Her breathing quickens as she takes in the debauchery unfolding around us. I can tell she’s shy, despite everything we’ve done.

“Ride me, princess,” I whisper against her ear. “Show everyone here how proud you are to belong to me.”

She hesitates, and I can practically feel the war inside her—the proper artist fighting against the woman I’ve unleashed.

“They’re all watching,” she whispers back.

“Good.” I nip at her earlobe. “Let them see what they will never have.”

A flash of determination replaces her uncertainty. She places her hands on the glass table for leverage and begins to move, slowly at first, rising and falling on my cock.

“That’s it,” I encourage, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Just like that.”

Across the table, I notice the three men who shared Bianca with me earlier—their hungry gazes fixed on her. All three have their hands beneath the glass tabletop, stroking themselves while watching my girl as her cunt worships my cock.

Marcus leans back in his chair, his muscular forearm flexing rhythmically beneath the glass tabletop. His dark eyes never leave Bianca’s body, his jaw clenched tight as he works his hand over his cock. The security expert who’s always so fucking controlled looks anything but right now.

“Remember how good she felt?” I call out to him, loud enough for others to hear. His eyes flick to mine, and I see an almost paralyzing hunger there before he gives a tight nod.

Jenson, usually the quiet spymaster, has his lip caught between his teeth.

His pale face is flushed, eyes half-lidded as he strokes himself under the table with slow, deliberate movements.

Our eyes meet briefly, and I give him a smirk that says; You can look but never touch again without my permission and her consent.

Victor is the least subtle of the three. The fight club owner has his massive hand wrapped around himself, pumping with the same aggressive energy he brings to everything. His tattooed arms flex with each movement, and he doesn’t even try to hide what he’s doing.

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Victor growls. “Best prey I’ve ever seen at a Hunt.”

I feel Bianca tense on my lap at his words, and I grip her hips tighter, guiding her movements.

“That’s right, princess,” I whisper against her ear. “They all covet what I have. They’re jerking off to the memory of being inside you, knowing they’ll never get that chance again without my say-so.”

The knowledge that these powerful men are reduced to spectators, pleasuring themselves to the sight of what belongs to me, sends a surge of satisfaction through my veins.

“They want you,” I growl into Bianca’s ear. “But they can’t have you. You’re mine.”

She moans softly, picking up her pace. The flush on her cheeks deepens, spreading down her neck to her chest. Despite her initial reluctance, she’s getting off on being watched—on being claimed so publicly.

“Look at them,” I command, guiding her gaze toward the men. “See how desperately they want what only I get to have.”

The massive mahogany doors swing open, and a parade of suits and sparkly dresses files in. Rich fucks are taking their seats along the walls, here for the show. I barely glance their way—too focused on how Bianca’s body tightens around mine with each roll of her hips.

“More people,” she whispers, faltering slightly as she notices the newcomers.

I grip her hips tighter, guiding her back into rhythm. “Ignore them. Focus on me.”

Some commotion erupts across the room—someone shouting. I catch a glimpse of Mayor Pike’s red face as he lunges forward, bellowing his daughter’s name. Drama that I don’t have time for.

“Focus on riding me, princess,” I murmur against Bianca’s ear, nipping the lobe.

She trembles against me but doesn’t stop moving. Instead, she leans back, her head resting against my shoulder as she surrenders to the sensation. Perfect.

Xavier’s commanding voice cuts through whatever bullshit is happening with the mayor. Still, I couldn’t care less about their family problems. All that matters is the woman on my lap, the way she’s starting to move with more confidence despite our expanded audience.

I slide my hand up her side, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her dress.

A few of the new arrivals have noticed us—two men in expensive suits have abandoned whatever spectacle is happening with Cora and fixed their attention on Bianca instead. Their hungry stares only fuel my territorial instincts.

“Look,” I whisper, nodding toward our admirers. “Even with all that chaos, they’d rather watch you.”

Bianca’s breath catches, her movements becoming more deliberate as she realizes the effect she’s having. Her initial shyness transforms into a wanton confidence as she arches her back, putting on a show for our observers.

“Mine,” I growl against her skin, loud enough for our audience to hear. The two men shift uncomfortably, adjusting themselves beneath their tailored pants.

Whatever drama is unfolding across the room fades to background noise. All that exists is Bianca, the heat of her, and the knowledge that every person watching us knows she’s mine, not only for the hunt, but forever.