Page 76 of Haunted

Mira’s gaze snaps to mine, those hazel eyes bright with unshed tears. The sight of her pain causes an uncomfortable tightening in my chest, which I’m not accustomed to. She looks so fucking vulnerable standingthere in that scrap of red silk, watching her best friend get fucked by multiple men.

“Xavier, I?—”

“No.” I grip her chin, forcing her to focus on me instead of the erotic tableau playing out across the room. “What’s done is done. Cora made her choice the moment she signed that contract. Just like you did.”

Her lower lip trembles, and I can see her fighting the urge to look back toward her friend. The guilt is eating her alive, consuming her from the inside out, and I find myself wanting to erase that devastated expression from her face.

“She wanted adventure,” I continue, my thumb brushing across her cheek. “She wanted to rebel against her father’s expectations. Well, congratulations—she got exactly what she asked for.”

Mira flinches at my words, but I don’t soften them. Coddling her won’t help either of us right now.

“But I brought her into this world,” she whispers. “I’m the reason she knew about you, about Purgatory, about?—”

“Enough.” The word comes out harsher than intended, echoing with finality. “You’re not responsible for anyone else’s choices, Mira. Not hers, not mine, not anyone’s in this fucking room.”

Her breathing grows ragged, those tears threatening to spill over. The sight of her on the verge of breaking apart unleashes protective instincts I don’t fully understand. All I know is that I need to pull her out of this spiral before it destroys her completely.

Without giving myself time to think, I reach up and pull off my red mask. The leather falls away, revealing my face completely.

Then I kiss her.

My mouth crashes against hers, swallowing whatever protest she might have offered. She tastes like sin and surrender, her lips soft and pliant beneath mine despite the tears that salt our connection. I pour everything into this kiss—possession, protection, the inexplicable need to shield her from the world.

30

MIRA

His kiss destroys me, unraveling every shred of guilt and horror until all that’s left is a bone-deep, devastating need. Tears cascade down my cheeks, even as my best friend’s moans echo through the chamber, arousal floods through me like wildfire.

I’m fucked up. Completely, irrevocably fucked up.

Because I’ve never been this wet in my entire life.

The sounds surrounding us—flesh against flesh, desperate gasps, the wet slide of bodies joining—all combine into a symphony of debauchery that makes my core clench with need. Even Cora’s sharp cries as those three masked men use her... God help me. It turns me on.

Xavier’s hand slides down my side, fingertips burning against the silk before finding my thigh. He pushes my legs apart with commanding force, and his fingers discover exactly how wet I am.

“Fuck,” he groans against my mouth, hisfingers sliding through the evidence of my arousal. “You’re fucking dripping for me.”

Shame and desire war within me as his fingers explore my soaked folds. How can I be turned on when my best friend is being violated yards away? What kind of monster does that make me?

Movement catches my eye, and I recognize the two masked men from earlier—the ones who’d performed while Xavier had me trapped in that first chamber. Julian as Xavier called the taller one is behind Elliot now, driving into him while Elliot’s mouth works stretchers around another hunter’s cock.

Watching Julian’s hips snap forward and seeing Elliot caught between two sources of pleasure makes my inner walls clench around nothing. Xavier’s fingers slide against me again, finding my clit, and a whimper escapes my throat.

“That’s it,” Xavier murmurs against my ear. “Stop pretending you don’t crave this darkness as much as the rest of us.”

His words terrify me because they’re true. Despite everything—despite Cora, despite my mission, despite every moral I thought I possessed—I need more. The depravity surrounding us only heightens my need, transforming me into someone I no longer recognize. Torn between the ache in my heart and the need in my core.

Someone who gets off on watching her best friend being used by three men. Someone who drips with arousal while others perform acts of dominance andsubmission. Someone who belongs in Xavier Blackwood’s dark world.

The masked man with the brilliant blue mask catches Xavier’s attention with a sharp whistle, never breaking his brutal rhythm as he forces his cock deeper into Bianca’s throat. Her hands are bound behind her back, and mascara streams down her cheeks, painting delicate little black rivers.

“X!” the man calls out, his voice muffled by the mask, but commanding nonetheless. “Get your ass over here.”

Xavier’s grip on my waist tightens possessively. The fingers that were stroking me withdraw, leaving me aching.

“Stay close,” he growls in my ear.