Page 41 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

XAVIER

T he orgy room has finally quieted after twenty-four hours of relentless fucking. Bodies sprawl across silk cushions and velvet divans, the air heavy with the musk of sex and exhaustion. Most of the hunters have retreated to private chambers or collapsed where they last took their pleasure.

But I can’t look away from the center of the room.

All six women lie together on the massive pile of crimson cushions, their naked bodies intertwined in sleep. They had some water and bread before crashing out. Mira’s hand clasps Cora’s tightly, even in unconsciousness.

“Look at our big brother,” Knox’s voice cuts through my thoughts, followed by the clink of a whiskey glass. “Twenty-four hours of the best pussy he’s ever had, and he still can’t stop staring.”

Vane snorts, sprawled in a leather chair. “She’s got him completely fucked up. Look at him—he hasn’t even touched his drink.”

I tear my gaze away from Mira’s sleeping form to glare at my brothers. Knox grins back, completely unrepentant, while Landon observes silently from the shadows. We’re the only hunters still awake, too wired from adrenaline and conquest to find rest.

“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter, finally reaching for the whiskey tumbler beside me.

“No, this is fascinating,” Knox continues, leaning forward. “Xavier Blackwood, the man who’s never kept a woman longer than a week, sitting here like a lovesick teenager.”

“She’s different,” the words slip out before I can stop them.

Vane’s eyebrows shoot up. “Different how? They’re all the same when you strip away the pretense.”

“She’s not.” I down half my whiskey in one burning gulp. “She challenges me and then surrenders so completely it nearly breaks me.”

“It’s the hunt,” Landon speaks for the first time, his voice quiet but certain. “You’re confusing conquest with connection.”

My jaw clenches. “You think I don’t know the difference?”

Knox laughs, the sound harsh in the intimate space. “When’s the last time you worried about what happened to a woman after you finished with her?”

I don’t answer because we all know the truth. I’ve never given a fuck before .

“She made you work for it,” Vane observes, swirling amber liquid in his glass. “That’s all. The chase was longer, so you think the prize is more valuable.”

“Watch your mouth when you talk about her.”

The words come out sharper than intended, loaded with warning. My brothers exchange glances that I pretend not to notice.

“There it is,” Knox says softly. “Our cold, calculating brother, ready to spill blood over a woman who, given the chance, would destroy us.”

The whiskey glass shatters against the wall behind Knox’s head, amber liquid dripping down the dark wood paneling.

“Say another fucking word about her,” I warn, a deadly calm saturating every syllable.

Knox’s grin widens, his blue eyes lighting up with dangerous delight. “What? That she’s been playing you from the start? That she signed up for this hunt specifically to gather dirt on us?”

I’m across the room before the words finish leaving his mouth, my fist connecting with his jaw in a satisfying crack. Knox stumbles back but recovers quickly, launching himself at me with the wild enthusiasm he brings to everything.

We crash into a marble side table, sending crystal decanters flying. Knox gets his hands around my throat, but I drive my knee into his ribs, loosening his grip enough to grab a fistful of his shirt and slam him against the nearest pillar.

“She’s not like the others,” I snarl, dodging his wild swing.

“She’s exactly like the others!” Knox roars back, blood trickling from his lip. “But you’re too pussy-whipped to see it!”

My vision goes red. I tackle him to the ground, and we roll across the marble floor, throwing punches and grappling like we’re teenagers again instead of grown men who run an empire.

Knox manages to pin me for half a second before I buck him off, my elbow catching him in the temple. He staggers, then comes at me again with renewed fury.

“That’s enough.”

Landon’s voice cuts through our violence like a blade. Strong hands grab my shoulders, hauling me back while Vane restrains a struggling Knox.

“Both of you, grow the fuck up.”

I strain against Landon’s grip, still seeing red. Knox spits blood onto the marble, his chest heaving.

“We’re not children anymore,” Landon continues, his voice cold with disapproval. “And this tantrum proves nothing except that Knox hit a nerve.”

I stop fighting, suddenly aware that our violence has woken some of the women. Mira sits up among the cushions, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders as she searches for me with bleary eyes.

“Xavier?” Her voice is soft, uncertain.

The sound of my name on her lips drains the fight out of me completely.

Knox is right. I am completely, utterly pussy-whipped.

The realization burns worse than the split lip Knox gave me. I release my fists, stepping back from Landon’s restraining grip as the truth settles in my bones like poison.

This isn’t me. Xavier Blackwood doesn’t throw punches at a woman. Xavier Blackwood doesn’t lose his shit because someone questions his choices. Xavier Blackwood sure as hell doesn’t need his younger brother to haul him off Knox like some rabid animal.

I’m the one who stays calm. I’m the one who thinks three moves ahead, while my brothers act on impulse. I’m the fucking strategist who built this empire by keeping emotions out of business decisions.

But here I am, knuckles bleeding, chest heaving with rage because Knox dared to speak the truth about a woman I’ve known for a handful of weeks.

“Fuck,” I breathe, running my hands through my hair.

Knox straightens his shirt, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His grin is gone, replaced by concern.

“When’s the last time you lost control like that?” he asks.

Never. The answer hangs between us, unspoken but understood.

I built my reputation on cold, calculated judgment. While Vane lets his emotions drive him to violence and Knox thrives on chaos, I’ve always been the anchor. The constant. The brother who never lets anything ruffle him enough to throw the first punch.

Landon studies me. “She’s under your skin.”

It’s not a question.

I want to deny it, but the evidence is splattered across the marble floor in crystal shards and spilled whiskey. My split knuckles throb with each heartbeat, a physical reminder of how thoroughly Mira Sullivan has dismantled my self-control.

“This is a problem,” Vane says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

He’s right. A man who can’t maintain objectivity is a liability. A leader who makes decisions based on emotions instead of logic gets people killed.

Gets his brothers killed.

“Xavier?” Mira’s voice calls again, this time stronger.

I glance toward the center of the room, where she’s now sitting up fully, concern etched across her beautiful face. She’s looking at me like I matter to her, like my well-being is somehow important.

The feeling that crashes through me at that look should terrify me.

Instead, it makes me want to go to her.

I ignore whatever Knox mutters under his breath. My brothers’ eyes track my movement, but I don’t give a fuck what they think right now. The only thing that matters is the woman looking at me with those worried hazel eyes.

My bare feet move silently across the marble floor, stepping around scattered crystal shards and puddles of spilled whiskey. The closer I get to Mira, the more the tension bleeds out of my shoulders. It’s like she’s my anchor, pulling me back to myself.

She shifts slightly as I approach, making room on the silk cushions without disturbing Cora, who lies curled against her side in exhausted sleep.

The mayor’s daughter looks younger as she lays sleeping, her face peaceful despite everything she’s endured over the past forty-eight hours.

Dried tears streak her cheeks, but her breathing is deep and even.

I lower myself onto the cushions beside Mira, and the silk feels cool against my heated skin. She immediately leans into me, seeking the warmth of mine. The simple gesture weakens the knot of rage still coiled in my chest.

“Are you hurt?” she whispers, her fingertips ghosting over the cut on my lip that Knox left behind.

I catch her hand, pressing it flat against my jaw. “I’m fine.”

She doesn’t believe me—I can see it in her eyes. But she doesn’t push, which I’m grateful for. I’m not ready to explain why hearing my brother question her motives made me see red. I’m not ready to admit that the thought of her playing me hurts more than any physical blow Knox could land.

Instead, I cup her face in both hands, my thumbs stroking over her cheekbones.

“Don’t worry about it,” I murmur, leaning down to brush my lips against hers. The kiss is gentle, nothing like the desperate, consuming hunger that’s driven every interaction between us since the hunt began. This is just... comfort. Connection .

It terrifies me how right it feels.

“Go back to sleep,” I tell her when I pull away. “You need rest.”

Mira searches my eyes for a moment longer, then nods. She settles back against the cushions, pulling Cora closer with one arm while her other hand finds mine.

Even in sleep, she doesn’t let go.