Page 52 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

MIRA

T he sound of the penthouse door closing wakes me from restless sleep. I’ve been drifting in and out for hours, exhausted, but my mind wouldn't stop racing with everything that’s happened, everything Xavier said before he left.

You’re my property, not my confidante.

The words still sting, sharp and cutting in a way that makes my chest tight.

I keep my eyes closed, listening to his footsteps cross the marble floor, the soft rustle of fabric as he removes his jacket.

Part of me wants to roll over, to seek the warmth of him, to pretend his cruel dismissal never happened. But it did.

And the larger part of me—the part that spent years building walls around my heart to keep it safe—keeps me perfectly still.

“Mira.” His voice comes from beside the bed, low and rough. “I know you’re awake. ”

I don’t respond. Don’t move. Don’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

The mattress dips as he sits on the edge. His hand reaches for my shoulder, fingers brushing against the silk of the nightgown he chose for me. Even through the fabric, his touch burns.

I pull away.

“Don’t.”

The single word comes out flat, emotionless. That is exactly how I want it to sound. Need it to sound.

Xavier goes very still. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Mira—”

“I said no.” My words remain dangerously calm and detached. I finally turn, but only to face away from him completely. “I’m tired. Go take a shower or do whatever you need to do and leave me alone.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy and tense. I can feel him watching me, can practically hear the gears turning in his mind as he tries to figure out what changed, why the woman who surrendered completely to him hours ago now won’t even meet his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

The question almost makes me laugh. What’s wrong? How can someone so intelligent be so completely clueless?

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything is exactly as you dictated it to be.

You own me, remember? Property doesn’t get to have feelings about how it’s treated.

” The resolve to keep my emotions in check is dangerously close to shattering.

But I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s broken one more piece of me. So, I lock it all down.

His sharp intake of breath tells me the words hit their mark.

“That’s not?—”

“Not what?” I interrupt, still not turning around, and still not so much as a labored breath as I hold myself together.

I can cry when he leaves again. “Not what you meant when you told me I wasn’t your confidante?

Not what you meant when you made it crystal clear that I’m nothing more than a warm hole for you to fuck? ”

“Turn around and look at me.” His voice carries that commanding edge that made me surrender completely during the Hunt.

But I’m not in his maze anymore. I’m not bound in silk and chains, helpless to resist. I’m in his bed, in his penthouse, trapped by a contract I signed willingly but feeling more caged than ever.

“No.”

“Mira.” The warning in his tone is unmistakable. “Face me. Now.”

Something in his voice—not the command, but the underlying note of uncertainty—makes me turn. Xavier sits on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed from whatever business took him away. He searches my face, looking for answers I’m not sure I want to give.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” I sit up, pulling the silk nightgown tighter around me. “You dismiss me like I’m nothing, and maybe I am, then expect me to welcome you back with open arms and sunshine.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m being cautious.”

“Cautious.”

“Yes.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, the first sign of frustration I’ve seen crack his controlled exterior. “How can you blame me for being wary? You’re a journalist, Mira. You came to Purgatory specifically to expose me, to uncover whatever dirt you could dig up on the Blackwoods.”

The accusation hangs between us.

“Why wouldn’t I be cautious?” Xavier continues, his voice gaining strength.

“You spent weeks pretending to be another employee while you gathered information. You signed up for the Hunt to get a better understanding of our operations. So forgive me if I don’t immediately trust you with every detail of my business. ”

I stare at him, seeing the logic in his words even as they sting. He’s right—I did lie. I managed to infiltrate his world for a story.

“I signed an NDA,” I say quietly.

“An NDA you fought against signing.”

“An NDA so ironclad that if I dared break it, I’d face jail time.” My voice rises, frustration bleeding through. “Do you really think I’d risk my freedom, my entire future, to publish some exposé that you could easily write a check to erase?”

Xavier’s eyes narrow, studying my face like he’s trying to read between the lines of every word.

“The woman who risked everything to get this close to my world? Yes, I think she might. Don’t put words in my mouth that I haven’t said.”

I feel something crack inside my chest. “You’re right.” The admission tears out of me. “Before the Hunt, I probably would have.”

Xavier’s expression shifts, surprise flickering across his features.

“But I’m not that woman anymore.” My voice wavers, making me despise how vulnerable I sound. “That’s what I can’t stand about all of this. That’s what’s wrong.”

I push myself further up against the headboard, needing distance even as I crave his touch.

“You want to know the truth? Even if I could write an exposé, even if that NDA disappeared tomorrow, I’m not sure I’d want to.

” The confession tastes like ash in my mouth.

“Four days ago, I had principles. I had integrity and self-respect. I had a mission to expose corruption and hold powerful people accountable.”

Xavier remains perfectly still, listening.

“Now?” I laugh incredulously. “Now I’m sitting in the bed of the man I was supposed to bring down, wearing silk he chose for me, bound by a contract I signed willingly. And the worst part? The absolute worst part is that some twisted part of me doesn’t want to leave.”

The truth hangs in the air between us, painful and fucked up as it may be.

“I hate what you’ve done to me,” I whisper. “I hate that you’ve turned me into someone I don’t recognize. Someone who gets wet when you command her, who begs for your touch, who would rather be your property than go back to her old life. What kind of woman wants to be nothing but an object?”

Xavier’s jaw clenches, his hands fisting in the expensive fabric of his pants.

“I hate that you’ve made me want things I never wanted before. That you’ve shown me parts of myself I didn’t know existed.” Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “And I hate that despite all of that, despite knowing exactly what you are and what you’ve taken from me, I still...”

I can’t finish the sentence. Can’t say the words that would make me completely pathetic.

“You still want?” His voice is a whisper.

I close my eyes, hating myself for what I’m about to admit. “I still want you. Need you, even. Like you’ve rewired my brain, and now I can’t function as anything but a shell without you.”

The words taste like poison.

“That’s what I hate most of all,” I continue, my voice breaking. “You’ve broken me, made me dependent on the very person I should despise. Made me crave the touch of a man who sees me as nothing, an object—property.”

Xavier moves closer to the bed. “You think you’re the only one who’s been broken?”

I look at him, confused by the edge in his voice.

“You think I planned this?” His hand rakes through his hair again, a tell I’m starting to recognize. “You think I wanted to become obsessed with a woman who came into my world specifically to destroy it, to destroy me?”

“Xavier—”

“No, let me finish.” His voice cracks with an emotion I’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve had dozens of women. Used them and discarded them without a second thought. But you? You’ve made me question everything. Made me protective, possessive, obsessive in ways that go far beyond ownership.”

He reaches for my hand, his fingers trembling slightly against mine.

“You’ve done the same to me, Mira. Made me need you in ways that terrify me. Ways that make me act like a bastard because I don’t know how to process this feeling.”

I stare at him, searching his face for lies, for manipulation. But all I see is a vulnerability that mirrors my own.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” I whisper. “Not after how you dismissed me earlier.”

Xavier’s grip on my hand tightens. “I was scared. Terrified that if I let you get too close to my business, you’d use it against me eventually. But I won’t make you feel like nothing again. That was not my intention. I swear it.”

Before I can respond, Xavier’s hand cradles my jaw, his thumb caressing my cheek.

His eyes search mine one last time before he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to my lips—one that I didn’t know he could ever be capable of.

What began as an olive branch quickly turned desperate, expressing all the words neither of us knew how to say.

My hand’s fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as he devours me with a passion that feels like damnation and salvation all at once.

When we finally break apart, both breathless, I start laughing.

Xavier pulls back, confusion flickering across his features. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because this is insane.” I shake my head, still giggling despite myself. “I spent my entire adult life wanting to bring justice to criminals. Not as a police officer like my father, but through journalism. Spreading truth, exposing corruption.”

My laughter turns slightly hysterical.

“Turns out, instead of bringing justice to criminals, I’ve become addicted to one.”

Xavier’s mouth curves into that dangerous smile that made me want to run the first time I saw it. Now, it makes me want to pull him closer.

“Good.” His thumb traces my jawline, sending shivers down my spine. “Criminals do everything better anyway.”

I raise an eyebrow, fighting my own smile. “Everything?”

“Everything.” His voice drops to that low rumble that makes my thighs clench. “We’re more passionate, more focused. When we want something, we take it. When we claim something, we keep it.”

“And modest to a fault, apparently.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin as he trails kisses down my neck. “Modesty is for men who have something to be modest about. ”

“Such arrogance,” I breathe, even as I tilt my head to give him better access.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” His teeth graze my neck. “Who wants a good boy anyway?”

The question makes me laugh despite the heat building between us. “Most women, I’d imagine.”

“Most women are idiots.” His hands slide down to grip my waist, fingers digging into the silk. “A hero—he’ll abandon the woman who loves him to uphold the world’s empty ideals.”

I pull back to meet his gaze. “And a bad man?”

Xavier’s grip tightens possessively. “A bad man sees nothing sacred except the woman who bears his mark—everything else is collateral damage in her protection.”

The statement should terrify me, considering the casual way he talks about violence, about choosing me over innocent lives. But heat pools low in my belly, and I have to admit I’m not mad about it.

“That’s... incredibly disturbing,” I whisper.

“Is it?” His thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “Or is it exactly what every woman secretly wants? A man so obsessed with her that nothing else matters?”

“Xavier...”

“Tell me honestly, Mira. When you were a little girl dreaming about your future husband, did you fantasize about a man who would choose to save some stranger over protecting you?”

I should say yes. Should tell him that I want someone heroic and selfless. But the lie won’t come.

“No,” I admit quietly.

“No,” he agrees, his voice rough with satisfaction. “You wanted someone who would choose you. Every single time.”

His lips brush against mine as he speaks, not quite a kiss, but close enough to steal my breath.

“A criminal will always choose his woman over his conscience. A good man will choose his conscience over his woman.” Xavier’s eyes burn into mine. “Which would you rather have warming your bed?”

Heat floods my cheeks as the answer rises unbidden. “You.”

His hands move differently this time—slower, more reverent as they slide the silk nightgown from my shoulders. I arch into his touch, desperate to feel his skin against mine, but he takes his time, pressing kisses to each inch of exposed flesh.

“Xavier,” I breathe his name like a prayer, my fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. “Please.”

He catches my wrists gently, bringing them to his lips. “Let me.”

The tenderness in his voice undoes me. This isn’t the commanding Xavier from the Hunt, the beast that took what he wanted. This is something else entirely—something that makes my chest ache with emotions.

He undresses slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. When he’s finally bare, he covers my body with his, making me gasp at the contact. Every nerve ending comes alive as he kisses me deeply, his tongue moving against mine in a dance that feels both familiar and new.

“I need you,” I whisper against his mouth, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I need you so much it scares me.”

Xavier pulls back to look at me, with a soft expression in a way I’ve never seen. His thumb traces my cheekbone as he settles between my thighs.

“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When he enters me, it’s with a leisurely pace that borders on worship, like he wants to memorize every inch of me from the inside out.

I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, needing to feel him everywhere.

My hands roam his back, memorizing the muscles that flex under my touch, the scars that tell stories he hasn’t shared yet.

“God, Mira.” His voice breaks on my name as he moves inside me with devastating gentleness. “What have you done to me?”

I kiss him instead of answering, pouring everything I can’t say into the connection of our mouths. My hips surge upward with each thrust, chasing deeper connection, understanding, the promise that maybe we're both equally lost in whatever this is between us.

His forehead presses against mine, our breathing mingling as we move together.

This isn’t fucking or claiming or any of the rough passion from before.

This is making love, and the realization terrifies me even as I cling to him, kissing him like he’s my entire world, like I might die without the taste of him on my lips.