Page 82 of Doomed

I feel heat rise to my cheeks as I watch her resistance crumble. It’s both terrifying and fascinating to witness such an intimate battle of wills. Landon drives forward with restrained hunger, while Sadie’s protests fade into moans that betray how much she truly wants this.

Her moans fill the chamber, contradicting her protests. The sound triggers a confusing mixture of emotions within me—embarrassment at witnessing such intimacy, yet being unable to look away. I recognize myself in her surrender, in the way pleasure overwhelms resistance.

“You’re mine,” Landon growls, his normally quiet demeanor transformed by an unmistakable dominance over her.

Sadie’s response is a broken cry—part denial, part ecstasy. Her hips move in perfect rhythm with his, even as her words continue to resist. I find myself holding my breath, transfixed by the display of power and submission reflected endlessly in the mirrored surface.

The contradiction in her response—fighting him with words while yielding completely—strikes me as painfully familiar. Isn’t that exactly what I had been doing with Knox?

When Landon and Sadie finish, I expect the next pair to step forward—perhaps Xavier and Mira. Instead, the man who had been having sex with Elliot during the feast moves to the center of the room.

“I claim Elliot Chambers for one full year,” Julian announces. “He belongs to me.”

Gasps ripple through the hunters. I feel Knox’s grip tighten around my waist.

“What the hell?” he whispers. “That’s not—hunters don’t claim hunters.”

“Julian, I...” Elliot’s voice breaks.

“Stand up,” Julian demands.

Elliot gets to his feet as ordered.

“Come here.”

Elliot moves toward Julian without resistance. He’s no longer fighting who he truly is—the part of himself I suspected he had locked away. Unlike Sadie, there’s no hesitation in hissteps, only anticipation. I can’t see his features behind his silver mask, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

When he reaches the platform, Julian circles, and I feel the anticipation crackling through the entire room.

“Good boy,” he murmurs loud enough for everyone to hear.

Watching Elliot, I notice the way his cock twitches at the praise and his shoulders sag.

The effect on him is immediate and clearly overwhelming. His composure breaks.

Julian’s hands move to Elliot’s shoulders, guiding him down to the platform. “On your hands and knees. Face the audience.”

My breath catches as Elliot assumes the position, facing the crowd. Julian arranges him deliberately, making sure everyone can see Elliot’s obvious arousal—hard and leaking against the reflective surface below.

“Look how eager you are,” Julian says, loud enough for all to hear. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

I should look away. This feels more intimate than anything I’ve witnessed tonight. Yet I can’t tear my eyes from them as Julian positions himself behind Elliot, his fingers digging into the other man’s hips.

“Nothing but a hole for me to use,” Julian continues, his voice a contradiction of tenderness and cruelty. “My personal slut.”

Elliot moans in response, accepting Julian’s rough thrusts without complaint.

I press my thighs together, shocked at the wetness gathering there. The display of dominance, the raw masculinity of their coupling—it affects me in ways I never anticipated. I had never watched two men together before this weekend, and I never imagined it would arouse me so intensely.

“God, that’s hot,” I whisper without thinking.

Knox’s hand slides down my hip, fingers brushing against my dampness. “I had no idea you’d enjoy this particular show, princess,” he murmurs against my ear. “Interesting.”

As Julian continues his claiming of Elliot, Knox’s grip tightens on my waist, his breath hot against my ear.

“Lucky us,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “We’re next, princess.”

My stomach drops and soars simultaneously. The thought of everyone watching us—of being completely exposed on that mirrored platform—sends a wave of panic through me. Yet beneath that panic runs a current of molten desire. I’m already embarrassingly wet, responding to the display before us and the promise of what’s to come.