Page 30 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

XAVIER

I ’m buried deep inside her, my cock pulsing with the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of my fucking life. Mira’s body trembles around me, her walls still gripping me so tight that I can’t pull out yet, much less think straight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I’ve fucked countless women. Claimed them, used them, discarded them. I know exactly how this goes—I take what I want, they submit, and I walk away satisfied but unchanged. It’s a transaction. A power play, I always win.

But this...

My hands shake as I grip the chains holding her wrists, steadying myself against the overwhelming sensation still coursing through my veins.

Mira’s chest rises and falls rapidly against mine, her skin flushed and gleaming with water droplets, and I can’t look away from the blissful expression on her face .

She destroyed me.

I came here to break her completely and reduce her to nothing more than another conquest. Instead, she surrendered so completely, so beautifully, that she somehow laid a claim of her own. The way she begged for me, the way she said my name like a prayer—fuck, it’s still echoing in my head.

“Xavier,” she whispers.

The sound sends another jolt through my already overstimulated system. I’ve never heard my name spoken like that—like it’s precious, a word to be savored. Women usually moan in fear or desperation. This is different. This is worship, and it terrifies me.

I should pull out. Should swim out of the pool, get dressed, and walk away like I always do. But I can’t move. Can’t think past the way her body feels wrapped around mine, the way she looks at me like I’m more than the monster I know I am.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This was supposed to be simple. Hunt the nosey little bitch trying to destroy us, humiliate her, and neutralize the threat she represents. Instead, I’m standing here feeling like my entire world shifted on its axis, and all because she surrendered everything.

The irony isn’t lost on me. I thought restraining her in chains would give me ultimate power over her. But somehow, in giving me everything, she’s taken a piece of me I didn’t even know I had to lose.

My control. My certainty. My fucking sanity. All of it—vapor .

I’ve never had pussy this good, but it’s more than that. It’s the way she responded to me, the way she trusted me with her pleasure even while being completely helpless.

I force myself to move, my hands reaching for the chains that bind her wrists. The metal releases with a soft click, and Mira’s arms drop to her sides like dead weights. She doesn’t even try to cover herself or push me away—just floats there in the water, completely spent.

“Come here,” I murmur.

She blinks up at me; those hazel eyes are glassy with exhaustion. The Hunt, the fear, the adrenaline, and now this—adrenaline dump. It’s coming any minute for her, and it’s going to be brutal.

“I need you to wrap your arms around my neck.”

Mira stares at me for a moment, processing the words like they’re in a foreign language. When she finally moves, it’s so laborious for her that it feels like watching a video in slow motion.

Her fingers brush against my shoulders as she reaches up, and I feel the tremor in her hands.

“There you go,” I say. “Hold on to me.”

She loops her arms around my neck, her grip weak but trusting. The weight of her presses against my back as I turn, positioning her so she can cling to me properly.

“Can you hold on while I swim us out?”

A small nod against my shoulder is her only response. Her breath is warm against my neck, coming in pants that tell me she’s fighting to stay conscious.

I wrap one arm back to support her thighs, making sure she’s secure against me before moving toward the pool’s edge. The water ripples around us as I begin to swim, keeping my strokes smooth and controlled. The last thing I need is for her to slip and go under.

When we reach the edge of the pool, I hold onto the side. It’s shallow enough for her to sit down.

“Let go,” I command, but my tone lacks its usual bite.

She releases me reluctantly, perched on her knees in the water. I hoist myself out first, water streaming from me. Crouching down, I grab her under the arms and haul her up and out in one smooth motion. She stumbles against my chest, legs unsteady, and I catch her before she can fall.

“Can you walk?”

“I think so.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

She takes one step, and her knees buckle. I catch her again, muttering a curse.

Without hesitation, I sweep her up in my arms, one hand behind her knees, the other supporting her back. She makes a small protest sound but doesn’t fight me.

“Where are we going?” she asks as I carry her toward a corridor she hasn’t seen before.

“Somewhere you can rest.”

“But the Hunt?—”

“The Hunt doesn’t end for another sixty hours. You need sleep.”

I push through a door marked with the red Blackwood crest—hunter territory, strictly forbidden to prey. But fuck the rules. I wrote them, I can break them .

The room is sparse but comfortable, featuring a single bed and basic furniture, nothing fancy. I put her on the edge of the mattress, and she immediately attempts to cover herself.

“A little late for modesty,” I observe.

She glares at me, some of her spark returning. “Just because you’ve seen everything doesn’t mean I have to put on a show.” Her teeth chatter a bit as she speaks, making me rethink my assumption.

“Fair enough.” I grab a black T-shirt from the dresser and toss it at her. “Wear this.”

She catches it against her chest. “Bossy much?”

“Always.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complaint either.”

She slips the shirt over her head, and I pretend not to watch the way the fabric clings to her damp skin. The shirt falls to her mid-thigh, covering enough to be decent but still leaving plenty of exposed skin.

“Why are you helping me?” she asks, settling back against the pillows.

I move to the chair across from the bed, maintaining distance. “Because unconscious prey isn’t fun to hunt.”

“Right. Of course.” She curls up on her side, pulling her knees to her chest. “Just preserving your entertainment.”

“Sleep, Mira.”

“Don’t tell me what to—” A yawn cuts off her protest .

“You were saying?”

“Shut up.” She closes her eyes, already half-asleep. “Bossy asshole.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.”

Mira’s breathing evens out within minutes, surrendering to exhaustion. I lean back in the chair, watching the rise and fall of her chest beneath my shirt. She looks younger in sleep, the sharp edges of her determination softened by vulnerability.

The radio on my belt crackles to life, Knox’s voice cutting through the quiet.

“X, what the actual fuck are you doing?”

I grab the radio, keeping my voice low. “Hunting.”

“Bullshit. I’m watching the feeds. You carried your prey into the sanctuary like some kind of deranged white knight.”

Static fills the air before Vane’s voice joins in. “Did our big brother offer room service to his prey?”

“This is rich,” Landon adds, his tone dry as dust. “Xavier Blackwood, terror of Ravenwood, tucking his prey in with a bedtime story.”

I grip the radio tighter. “She needed rest. Unconscious prey isn’t entertaining.”

Knox’s laughter crackles through the speaker. “Right, because you’ve never fucked an unconscious woman before.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

I don’t have an answer to that. How do I explain that watching her collapse felt wrong in ways I can’t explain, not even to myself? That carrying her here had been necessary rather than optional?

“You’ve gone soft,” Vane observes. “Pussy-whipped before you’ve even properly claimed her.”

“I have claimed her.”

“In a pool, like some romantic bullshit,” Knox scoffs. “Where were the whips? The begging? The tears? You made love to her, didn’t you?”

The words hit harder than they should. “I don’t make love.”

“Could’ve fooled us,” Landon says. “Next, you’ll be bringing her breakfast in bed.”

“Or flowers,” Vane adds. “Maybe a nice candlelit dinner.”

“Fuck all of you.”

“No thanks,” Knox replies cheerfully. “We’re busy hunting like we’re supposed to be. You know, the point of this event?”

I look at Mira’s sleeping form. “She’s my prey. I’ll handle her however I see fit.”

“By playing nursemaid?” Vane asks.

“By breaking her properly. Sleep deprivation only works if they wake up first.”

“Sure,” Knox says, the inflection of his voice telling me he’s not buying it for a second. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, big brother. Try not to propose before the Hunt’s over.”

The radio falls silent, leaving me alone with the sound of Mira’s breathing and the uncomfortable truth my brothers forced me to confront.

They’re right. I’ve never brought prey to the sanctuary. Never cared if they needed rest.

What the fuck is she doing to me?