12
JULIAN
Releasing the last buckle on the spreader bar, I free Elliot’s legs. He sways slightly as he stands, and I steady him with a hand on his hip, lingering longer than necessary. His skin is warm beneath my palm, slick with sweat—evidence of what we’ve just done together.
Theo sits off to the side, watching us with those dark eyes of his. The room feels charged, the air heavy with the scent of sex and the unspoken question hanging between us.
“What now?” Elliot finally asks, his voice hoarse. His eyes dart between Theo and me, uncertainty written across his features.
I study him for a moment—his flushed skin, his disheveled hair, the way he can’t quite meet my gaze. “What do you want to happen next?” I counter, genuinely curious about what this newly awakened version of Elliot desires.
He hesitates, mouth opening then closing again. This reluctance to voice his needs is frustratingly endearing.
I find myself reaching for him again, unable to stop myself from touching this beautiful man. My fingers trace the line of his jaw before sliding around to cup the back of his neck. I pullhim close, breathing in the scent of him as I press my lips to the sensitive spot just below his ear.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” I murmur against his skin, surprised by my own candor.
My hands continue their exploration, one sliding down his back while the other tangles in his hair. He melts against me with a small sound that ignites something possessive in my chest.
It’s odd—I’ve had men before, certainly found them attractive, but never felt this overwhelming need to keep touching, to maintain contact. There’s something about Elliot that draws me in beyond the physical pleasure. Perhaps it’s the vulnerability beneath his carefully constructed facade, or the way he surrenders so beautifully despite his fears.
Whatever it is, I can’t seem to get enough of him.
I hold Elliot’s gaze, waiting. The silence stretches between us, filled with the echoes of what we’ve just done. Despite his hesitation, I can see desire warring with fear in his eyes—the perpetual battle he’s been fighting his entire life.
“Tell me what you want, Elliot,” I press, my voice low. “No more hiding.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. For a moment, I think he might retreat into denial, but then something shifts in his expression—a surrender that’s even more beautiful than when I was inside him.
“I want more,” he admits, the words barely audible. His eyes drop to the floor, then lift to meet mine with newfound determination. “I want... I want to be prey.”
My pulse quickens at his confession. “Say it again. Clearly this time.”
Elliot stands straighter, as if finding strength in finally voicing his desires. “I want to be hunted. By you. Through the corridors.” His breathing grows heavier. “I want to run, knowingyou’re coming for me. I want to feel what it’s like to be one of the ones who gets hunted every year.”
The honesty in his voice stirs something primal in me. This isn’t just about sex anymore—this is about helping Elliot break free from the prison he’s built around himself.
“That can be arranged,” I say, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice.
Theo clears his throat, reminding us of his presence. He pushes himself off the mirrored wall.
“I’ll see you both later,” he says, his dark eyes gleaming with promise. “But I expect to have a bit of fun with you during the orgy section of the hunt.”
I nod in agreement, already imagining the possibilities. “Looking forward to it.”
Theo gives Elliot one last appreciative glance before slipping out of the chamber, leaving us alone.
I notice Elliot’s mask clutched in his trembling hands, his fingers tracing the edges nervously. Such a beautiful metaphor for the man himself—hiding behind carefully constructed barriers his entire life. I step forward and pluck it from his grasp, holding it up between us.
“You won’t need this anymore,” I tell him, watching his eyes widen. “If you’re prey, you don’t get to hide behind masks. I want to see every expression on your face when I catch you.”
His breath catches, chest rising and falling in quick succession.
I reach for my own mask, sliding it back into place over my features. The weight settles against my skin, reinforcing the power dynamic between us. Hunter and hunted. Predator and prey.
“Now run from your king,” I command. “But know this, Elliot—you will be caught and conquered in the end.”
He hesitates for a moment, swallowing hard as his eyes dart between me and the exit. Then something shifts in his expression—a flash of exhilaration breaking through the fear. He lunges for his discarded pants, nearly stumbling in his haste to pull them on.
