I whip around to face him. “What?”
“You heard me.” His eyes hold mine, unflinching. “You’re mine now, Elliot. And everyone will know it.”
The blood drains from my face as understanding dawns. “No. No, Julian, I can’t?—”
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t be fucked by a man in front of Ravenwood’s elite.” Panic claws at my throat. “Do you have any idea what that would do to me? To my reputation, my business?”
Despite everything we’ve done in the Hunt, despite how completely I surrendered to him, the thought of being publicly claimed—of everyone witnessing my submission—sends terror coursing through me.
“I’ve spent my entire life hiding this part of myself,” I continue, my voice breaking. “I can’t just... I can’t just throw away years of careful?—”
“Careful what? Denial? Self-hatred?” Julian’s expression hardens. “You think they don’t already know? Half the men who’ll be at that table have fucked Theo, and the other half wish they could.”
“That’s different. Theo doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not.”
“And how’s that working out for you, Elliot? Living a lie?”
I flinch as if he’s struck me. All my arguments crumble under the weight of the truth—the same truth that’s been staring back at me from every mirror in this chamber.
“Look,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, “hunters may fuck each other occasionally during the Hunt—it happens. But one hunter doesn’t claim another during the Feast. It’s never been done before.” The panic rises in my throat again. “The Feast is for the female prey. The hunters claim them, not each other.”
Julian’s lips curve into that dangerous smile that makes my stomach flip. “First time for everything.” He approaches me slowly, like a predator who knows his prey has nowhere to run. “Besides, I rather like the idea of making history.”
“You can’t be serious.” My protest sounds weak even to my own ears. “The other hunters?—”
“Won’t bat an eyelid.” Julian cuts me off, his finger tracing my jawline. “And those who do? They’ll be reminded of what they’re missing by not being more... adventurous in their pursuits.”
“Julian, please?—”
“There’s no argument to be had here.” His voice drops lower. “It’s already done. You became mine the moment you surrendered and let me fuck that virgin ass.”
I swallow hard, knowing he’s right. In the most primal sense, I’ve already been claimed. But making it public—displaying my submission for all Ravenwood to see—that’s different. That’s final.
Julian leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “And I can’t wait to feel your ass wrapped around my cock for the duration of the dinner,” he whispers. “Keeping you full, keeping you on edge, while your beautiful cock leaks everywhere.”
My cock hardens at his words despite my trepidation. Julian notices, of course. He always notices.
“Your body already likes the idea,” he murmurs, his hand trailing down to grip my traitorous erection.
My resolve crumbles completely. I close the distance between us, crushing my lips against his hungrily. Julian responds, his hand tightening around my cock as his other hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer.
I groan into his mouth, pressing my body against his, feeling his hard length against my hip. My hands roam over his chest, his shoulders, relearning the contours of his body with reverence.
Julian kisses me like he owns me—commanding and consuming, his tongue exploring my mouth with the same thorough possession he’s shown the rest of my body. I surrenderto it completely, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I pull him impossibly closer.
His hand works my cock with deliberate strokes, and I rock into his grip, chasing the friction. My ass clenches around nothing, craving the fullness he’s given me repeatedly throughout the Hunt. I break the kiss to gasp against his neck, my teeth scraping his skin.
“Please,” I whisper. “Julian, please?—”
He releases me abruptly, and I stumble forward at the loss of contact. My cock throbs, angry and neglected, while my body screams for more.
“No,” Julian says, his voice rough but firm. He steps back, putting distance between us. “You’ll wait for the Feast.”
“What?” Frustration wars with arousal in my chest. “But?—”
“I want you desperate,” he interrupts, his ice-blue eyes dark with hunger. “I want you so wound up that when I finally take you at that table, you’ll come apart completely.” His lips curve into a wicked smile. “And everyone will see exactly how beautifully you surrender.”
