Chapter 30 Vane
VANE
Lia’s inner walls clench around my cock with such perfect pressure it nearly drives me insane. She throws her head back against my shoulder, eyes shut tight, lips parted in a silent scream. Fuck, she's magnificent when she comes.
“That's it, wildflower,” I murmur against her ear as she struggles through the aftershocks.
The feast continues around us—moans and bodies colliding, the smell of sex and sweat mingling with the aroma of gourmet food. But my focus narrows to just Lia as her breathing slowly evens out. Her body grows heavier against mine.
I use a mirrored goblet on the table to see her eyes closed, lips parted. She's actually fallen asleep. Right here, in the middle of an orgy, with me inside her. Something primal and possessive swells in my chest.
Adjusting my position, careful not to wake her, my hand traces lazy patterns across her stomach. She's fucking perfect—completely relaxed and trusting in my arms while chaos and debauchery continue mere feet away.
Marcus, across the room, catches my eye, giving me a questioning look as he notices my sleeping prize.
I respond with a smirk and a slight nod, unashamed pride radiating through me.
I've satisfied her so thoroughly that she's comfortable enough to surrender to sleep, surrounded by strangers engaged in every imaginable act.
I pull down my mask to press a gentle kiss to her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair. I'm completely fucking ruined for anyone else. Always have been, from the moment I first saw her. Something about this woman has always called to the darkest parts of me, demanding complete possession.
Carefully, I reach for a soft blanket folded nearby, draping it over her—not out of modesty, but because I don't want her getting cold. My hands return to her skin beneath the covering, tracing the curves I've memorized, the marks I've left.
“Sleep, wildflower,” I whisper. “I've got you.”
I catch movement across the room and spot Landon, my psychotic younger brother, watching us with that analytical stare of his.
Even with his white skull mask covering the lower half of his face, I can read his expression.
That raised eyebrow is him judging me for wrapping my prey in a blanket and allowing her to sleep.
He tilts his head slightly, eyes darting between me and the sleeping woman in my arms. The question is clear: Why are you letting her fucking sleep?
I raise my middle finger in Landon's direction.
His eyes crinkle slightly—the closest thing to a laugh I'll get from him in public.
Fuck him and his judgment. He's always been too controlled, too calculating, even with his girl on his cock, he’s taunting me.
He doesn't understand what it means to want someone like this—obsessively for fifteen fucking years.
My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since he gave me that protein bar earlier. The table beside us is laden with platters of food—grapes, cheeses, sliced meats arranged in a decadent display. I reach for a cluster of grapes, moving carefully. Lia’s breathing remains steady against my chest, soft and even.
I pop a grape into my mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness.
At the same time, my other hand continues tracing patterns on her skin beneath the blanket.
Despite her being completely relaxed in sleep, I'm still rock hard inside her.
Her body fits perfectly around me, like she was made specifically for this—for me.
The pressure of her weight, the warmth of her surrounding me—it's fucking intoxicating. I could stay like this for hours, just feeling her breathe, knowing she's finally where she belongs. My wildflower, home at last.
I keep one hand possessively curved around Lia's waist beneath the blanket as I watch the room. These fuckers have no idea what it took to get her here or that the weight of her against me feels like victory incarnate.
A soft groan escapes Lia's lips as she shifts slightly in my lap, her body tightening around my still-hard cock. I suppress a groan, leaning down to nip at her earlobe.
“Still with me, wildflower?” I murmur.
Before she can fully wake, Xavier's voice cuts through the room like a knife. My brother always did have a way of commanding attention without raising his voice—something I've never mastered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us this evening.”
I feel Lia's muscles tense as consciousness returns to her. Her breathing pattern changes, and I can practically feel her mind racing as she realizes where she is and what's happening. My hand tightens around her waist, keeping her firmly in place.
“The public portion of our celebration has concluded,” Xavier continues, standing at the head of the table in his red mask. The fucker looks like royalty addressing his subjects. “What follows is a private ritual reserved only for those who participated directly in the Hunt.”
Lia's eyes flutter open, confusion evident in their amber depths as she twists slightly to look at me. I offer her a smile, enjoying the flush that spreads across her cheeks as she realizes she's been asleep—impaled on me—in a room full of Ravenwood's elite.
“We ask that you respect this tradition and allow us to proceed without observers,” Xavier finishes.
The crowd begins to move reluctantly, following a server toward the exit.
“What's happening?” Lia’s voice is husky from sleep.
I tighten my grip on her hip, keeping her firmly seated on my cock as she tries to shift.
“Now comes the claiming,” I explain. “You'll be taken to prepare. They'll dress you in green to match my mask. Each prey will wear the color of their hunter's mask,” I continue. “Then there's a ceremony where I formally decide whether to claim you for the contracted year.”
Lia's breath catches. “And will you? Claim me?’
My laugh is dark, possessive. “Wildflower, I'm claiming you for the rest of your fucking life.” I tighten my grip on her, making sure she feels every inch of me still inside her. “No running this time. I'm not giving you up after a year, or ten, or twenty.”
“You can't be serious,” she whispers.
“I've never been more serious about anything.” I twist her on my lap so she’s facing me, my cock still inside her, and cup her face, forcing her to maintain eye contact.
“I've loved you since we were eighteen, Lia.
That never stopped. Not when you left without saying goodbye.
Not during the fifteen years you stayed away from me.
Not when you were fucking other men in New York, thinking I didn't know.”
Her pulse quickens under my fingertips.
“I wasn't staying away from you,” she protests weakly.
“Weren't you?” I trace the line of her throat. “You've been running since the night of prom. But it ends now. Tonight.”
The vulnerability in her eyes nearly undoes me. After fifteen years of obsession, planning, and waiting, she's finally here—where she's always belonged.
“You've loved me since high school?” she asks, voice barely audible.
“Every fucking day since we met.” I press my forehead against hers.
Before she can respond, I lift her off my cock and then settle her so she's facing me on my lap. My hands frame her face, holding her firmly against me as I pull away enough to reach up and yank my green skull mask down, letting it hang loose around my neck.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, eyes wide. “I thought the masks were supposed to stay on during the feast.”
“Fuck the rules.” I press my forehead against hers, letting her see my face fully. “I'm done hiding. I'm done with the games.”
Xavier shoots me a glare from across the room, but I couldn't care less. Let them all see. Let everyone in this room know exactly how I feel about Lia.
“You're breaking tradition,” she murmurs, but her fingers trace my exposed jawline with something like wonder.
“You're worth breaking every rule for.” I capture her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I've never had a girlfriend, you know. Not a real one.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “In fifteen years?”
“Bodies to satisfy the physical need, nothing more.” I hold her gaze, needing her to understand. “How could I commit to anyone when my heart has belonged to you since we met in high school?”
She swallows hard, vulnerability flickering in her eyes. “Vane...”
“I orchestrated everything.”
Her body tenses against mine. “What?”
“I own the building. I knew what salary would bring you back to Ravenwood.” I trace her cheekbone with my thumb. “I've been waiting, planning, making sure everything was perfect for when you finally came home to me.”
The shock in her eyes gives way to a more complex emotion.
“You manipulative bastard,” she whispers, but there's no real heat behind it.
“I prefer determined.” I kiss her again, gentler this time. “Fifteen years, Lia. Did you really think I'd leave anything to chance when I've been waiting that fucking long?”
Before I can continue my confession, Lia leans forward and captures my lips with hers, effectively silencing me.
“Shut up,” she whispers against my mouth. “Just shut up for a second.”
Her kiss is fierce, like she's trying to convey an emotion she doesn’t have the words to express. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me groan.
Xavier's voice breaks through the fog of desire. “The traditional claiming period begins now. You have until dawn to decide if you wish to keep your prey for the full year, as outlined in our contracts.”
I pull back enough to look into Lia's eyes, ignoring my brother's droning explanation of rules I've known since we created this fucking event.
“You're mine,” I murmur against her lips. “In one hour, I'm claiming you in front of every hunter here.”
Her pupils dilate, breath catching as my hand slides up her spine. “And then what?”
“And then you get twenty-four hours to go home and make preparations to move in with me. To our home.” I tighten my grip. “The home I've been preparing for you since you left.”
She shivers against me, pressing her forehead to mine. Her lips find mine again. I respond with equal fervor, my hand sliding up to grip the back of her neck.
“It's time,” a female voice announces, breaking through our bubble. “The prey must prepare for the claiming ceremony.”
I growl against Lia's mouth, my arm tightening around her waist. The thought of letting her go, even for an hour, feels physically painful. What if she disappears again? What if—
“Vane,” she whispers, cupping my face. “I'm not running. Not this time.”
I search her eyes, looking for any sign of deception, but find only sincerity. With every ounce of willpower I possess, I loosen my grip and let her stand.
“One hour,” I vow.
She nods, walking away slowly. “One hour.”
I watch as Lia follows the female attendant toward the preparation chambers. The blanket she'd been wrapped in trails behind her like a cape as she glances back at me one last time before disappearing through the arched doorway.
One hour. Sixty fucking minutes.
I adjust myself and zip up my pants, scanning the room.
Most of the hunters remain, my brothers among them.
Xavier stands at the head of the table, talking with Landon.
They both look in my direction, and I know they're discussing my broken protocol.
Let them. I don't give a fuck about tradition right now.
“Well, well, well.” Knox's voice hits my ears before I see him, and then my youngest brother is sliding into the empty seat beside me, his blue skull mask hanging around his neck. “That was quite the display, big brother.”
I grunt in response, reaching for my drink.
“I've never seen you like this.” Knox's tone turns teasing as he leans closer. “Vane Blackwood, the heartless enforcer, looking at a woman like she hung the fucking moon. You're so in love it's actually disgusting.”
Something hot and volatile erupts in my chest. “Fuck off, Knox.”
“Whoa!” Knox raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hit a nerve, did I? Come on, you know I'm just—”
“I said fuck off.” I slam my glass down, whiskey sloshing over the rim. “Not now.”
Knox's smile falters, genuine surprise crossing his features. We've always traded barbs easily, our relationship built on sarcasm and mutual mockery. But right now, with Lia finally in my grasp after so many years of obsession, I can't handle his juvenile bullshit.
“Jesus,” Knox mutters, studying my face. “You really are gone on her.”
I stare at him, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. There's a storm brewing inside me—fear, anticipation, possessiveness, and something dangerously close to hope—all churning together into something I can barely contain.