Chapter 17 Elliot
ELLIOT
Ijolt awake, disoriented. The first thing I register is heat—a solid, muscular body pressed against my back, a hard cock nestled against my ass, and a strong arm wrapped possessively around my waist.
Julian.
The name sends a shiver of pleasure through me. A few days ago, I was still pretending, still hiding. Now my mask lies shattered somewhere in the maze’s corridors, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I shift, feeling Julian’s arm tighten around me in response.
I wasn’t prepared for any of this—not for how completely I’d surrender, not for how desperately I’d crave his control, not for how addictive his dominance would become.
Each command, each possessive touch, each whispered claim had stripped away decades of denial until all that remained was raw, honest need.
And now, lying here in the aftermath, I realize I’m not prepared for it to stop. The thought of returning to my carefully constructed life, of pretending Julian Frost never happened, creates a hollow ache in my chest that frightens me more than any of my previous fears.
Behind me, Julian stirs, his breath warm against my neck as he pulls me closer. His cock hardens further against me, and I instinctively press back against him, my body responding before my mind can catch up.
“Even in your sleep, your body knows who it belongs to,” Julian murmurs, his voice thick with sleep yet sharp with desire. His lips brush against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “My beautiful boy who fought so hard only to surrender so sweetly.”
The words are filthy and tender all at once, making my heart race and my cock stir despite my exhaustion. In that moment, I knew I was completely ruined for anyone else.
The horn blares through the orgy room, a deep, resonant sound that slices through my post-orgasmic haze. I freeze against Julian’s body, knowing exactly what that signal means.
The Feast.
The culmination of the Hunt, where captors publicly claim their prey. Where the elite of Ravenwood Hollow gather to watch women be taken by their captors at one long, large dining table laden with food and wine.
The reality of the moment hits me like a freight train. The Hunt isn’t just about the chase—it culminates in a public display.
“We should get ready for the Feast,” I say, my voice hoarse from screaming Julian’s name. I sit up, wincing slightly at the unfamiliar soreness, getting off the couch in the orgy room. “I need to find my clothes.”
Julian rises behind me. He places his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.
“You will be bathed and prepared for the Feast,” he says. “As my prey.”
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 surrender to 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.”
The image he paints sends both terror and arousal flooding through me. I want to argue, to protest, but my cock pulses at the thought of being displayed like that—Julian’s prey, Julian’s conquest, Julian’s possession.
“Now,” Julian says, straightening his shoulders and composing himself with practiced ease. “Let me fetch the attendants. You need to be bathed and prepared properly.”
He walks toward the door, leaving me standing there—naked, hard, and trembling with anticipation. The feast will be my reckoning, and I don’t know whether to be scared or excited that the walls I’ve built, the mask I’ve portrayed to everyone I know, are about to be torn down in public.