My mouth waters involuntarily. My own cock, which had begun to soften during my flight, hardens instantly.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen the other hunters naked. Over the years at Purgatory, during various Hunts, we’ve all been exposed to each other at one point or another. The membership rotates—about thirty regulars who cycle through the fifteen hunter positions each year—but we’ve all caught glimpses in changing rooms, in the aftermath of successful hunts.
They all have beautiful bodies. It’s like a requirement for Purgatory membership—perfect physiques to match perfect bank accounts.
I press myself against the wall, hoping the shadows conceal me.
“Found you,” Julian’s sing-song voice lilts from behind me. “My beautiful prey.”
My entire body goes rigid. The sound of his voice—playful, confident, hungry—sends electric currents racing down my spine. I don’t turn around.
Without thinking, I bolt from my hiding spot, abandoning the view of Cora and her captors. My footsteps echo against the walls as I tear down the next corridor, taking random turns, desperate to put distance between Julian and me.
Left. Right. Another right.
I skid to a halt as the corridor ends abruptly. A massive black door stands before me, its surface gleaming in the low light. A small touchpad glows beside it, displaying a simple question.
“Ready to see yourself?”
“Fuck,” I whisper, glancing back the way I came. Julian’s unhurried footsteps grow louder. There’s nowhere else to go.
I press my palm against the touchpad. The door slides open with a soft hiss, and I step inside. What I see makes my breath catch.
The Chamber of Reflections surrounds me—a hexagonal room where every surface is mirrored, including the ceiling and floor. Soft, amber lighting creates an intimate glow. In the center sits a large circular platform covered in black silk sheets, surrounded by floating shelves holding oils, restraints, and toys designed specifically for male pleasure.
From strategic points in the walls, small nozzles emit a light mist infused with something that makes my skin tingle and heightens every sensation. I can see myself from every angle—flushed, aroused, terrified.
Along one wall, a display of implements I’ve only ever fantasized about using hangs in meticulous order—prostate massagers, cock rings, and devices I don’t even have names for.
My reflection stares back at me, thousands of times over—the man I’ve pretended not to be for decades, cornered at last in a paradise of his own deepest desires.
The door slides open behind me, and my heart stops. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is—I can feel his presence like a physical weight against my skin.
“Such a good boy,” Julian purrs, his voice echoing in the mirrored chamber. “Running exactly where you were meant to go. It’s almost like you knew.”
My breath catches in my throat. Did I? The layout of Purgatory isn’t a mystery to the hunters—we all know whereevery corridor leads, which walls change, every room’s purpose. Did some part of me guide my panicked flight directly to this room? This shrine to every desire I’ve denied?
“I didn’t—” I start, but the lie dies on my lips as I turn to face him.
Julian stands just inside the doorway, smiling like a wolf who’s cornered its prey after a particularly enjoyable chase. His fingers move to his belt, unhurried, confident.
“You did,” he says, pushing his pants down his legs and stepping out of them.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Every mirror reflects him from different angles—Julian naked, tattooed, and magnificent. An intricate design crawls up his right thigh, curling around his hip and disappearing around his back. Nestled among those tattoos is a subtle crown, etched in delicate lines, an emblem of authority that both fascinates and unnerves me. His cock stands proud, thick and veined, exactly as it felt between my lips earlier.
My knees buckle. I brace myself against the nearest mirrored wall to stay upright, but what I want is to worship him. To surrender everything I am to this man who has seen through me—a man who embodies the power of a king and the allure of a lover.
He is beautiful. He is terrifying. He is my undoing and my salvation all at once.
My king.
The thought flashes through my mind unbidden, but it feels right in a way nothing has before. It’s not just the crown inked on his skin that captures my heart; it’s the way he carries himself, a confidence that draws me in like gravity. A sob catches in my throat—not from fear or shame, but from the overwhelming relief of finally acknowledging what I’ve always known but been too scared to accept.
8
JULIAN
Iwalk toward Elliot, savoring the way he trembles against the mirrored wall. His eyes dart between my naked body and his own reflection, a man finally facing what he’s spent a lifetime denying.
