Chapter 35
JENNA
“We’re going back to Chicago,” Nik says as he loads our bags into the SUV. “To the Nexus. My home.”
My stomach flutters with nerves. “Your brothers.”
“They’ve been waiting to meet you.” He closes the trunk and turns to face me. “Not as an acquisition. As mine.”
The distinction feels important, though I’m not entirely sure why.
The drive back is quiet, tension humming between us like a live wire. Nikolai’s hand rests on my thigh, thumb tracing absent patterns while he navigates the country roads. I watch the landscape change from wilderness to suburbs to city, each mile taking us closer to whatever comes next.
“Are you nervous?” he asks as we enter Chicago.
“Terrified,” I admit.
His grip tightens, reassuring. “They already like you.”
“They don’t know me.”
“They know you killed five collectors.” His mouth quirks upward. “That earned their respect.”
I remember the woman in the underground who warned me about Nik, how she said he was different. Dangerous in ways that went beyond normal predators. Now I’m about to meet eight more like him.
The warehouse looks different in daylight—less ominous, more industrial. Nikolai parks in what looks like an abandoned lot, but I now notice the subtle security measures. Cameras, sensors, barriers disguised as decay.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, though I’m anything but.
The elevator descends, and when the doors open, I’m hit by the sound of voices, laughter, the domestic chaos of men who live together.
“Looks like the hunter returns,” someone calls out as we step into what can only be described as a living room. Comfortable furniture, massive TV, and huge dining table.
Eight men look up from various activities—gaming, reading, and what appears to be an intense card game.
“Gentlemen,” Nikolai says, his hand settling at the small of my back. “Jenna.”
“Finally,” says a man with ash-blonde hair and devastating good looks. He rises from the couch. “I was beginning to think Nik was hiding you in shame.”
“Darius,” Nikolai warns.
But Darius ignores him, approaching with a smile that could melt steel. “I’m Darius. The one who kept telling our brooding leader to stop pining and claim you properly.”
He reaches for my hand, brings it to his lips in an old-world gesture that’s courtly, yet somehow he makes it suggestive. His blue eyes hold mine as he presses a kiss to my knuckles.
“Charming,” I manage.
“I try.” His smile widens. “Though from what I hear, you prefer the more… direct approach.”
Nikolai’s hand presses harder against my back, a possessive weight. “Enough.”
“Protective already?” Darius releases my hand but doesn’t step back. “How delightfully primitive of you.”
A muscular man with olive skin and intricate tattoos looks up from what appears to be a complex mathematical equation spread across three notebooks. “Probability suggests this introduction will devolve into territorial posturing within the next ninety seconds.”
“Thank you, Ezra,” Nikolai says dryly.
Ezra’s pale blue eyes study me with clinical intensity. “Fascinating variables in your behavioral patterns. The statistical likelihood of your survival, given your initial circumstances, was approximately twelve percent.”
“I don’t like being reduced to numbers,” I say.
His eyebrows rise. “No one does. That’s what makes the mathematics so pure.”
“Jesus, Ez, let the woman breathe,” says another man, this one with blonde hair and an asymmetrical style that somehow works perfectly. His eyes are unsettling. “I’m Marcus. I can sense you’re terrified.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I counter.
A man with bronze skin and dark, atmospheric tattoos looks up from what appears to be a chemistry textbook. “The physiological response to fear and arousal shares many commonalities. Elevated heart rate, increased blood flow, heightened sensitivity. The body often confuses the two.”
“Thank you, Dr. Theon,” Marcus says sarcastically.
“I’m not a doctor,” Theon replies seriously. “I never finished the degree.”
“Because you were busy learning how to kill people with household chemicals,” adds a man built like a tank, with extensive tattoos and an undercut. “I’m Damon. Don’t mind the scientific commentary—we’re all fucked up here.”
“Speak for yourself,” says a man with dark skin and tattoos that seem to shift when he moves. He’s leaning against the wall, observing everything with the detached interest of someone used to watching rather than participating. “I’m perfectly adjusted to my particular brand of insanity.”
“That’s Dominic,” Nikolai explains. “He assumes identities like some people collect stamps.”
“And today I’m being myself,” Dominic says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Lucky you.”
A lean man with blonde hair and pale skin sits in the corner, so still he might be carved from stone. “She’s stronger than she looks.”
“That’s Lucien,” Nikolai says. “He doesn’t usually speak this much.”
“I’m verbose today,” Lucien replies with dark amusement.
The last man remains seated at the kitchen island, chopping vegetables. He’s beautiful in a way that seems almost engineered, with dark hair and pale blue eyes that miss nothing.
“Raphael,” Nikolai supplies. “Our resident chef and philosopher.”
Raphael nods once in my direction but doesn’t speak, just continues his precise knife work.
“Well,” Darius says, clapping his hands together. “Now that we’ve all been introduced, shall we discuss the elephant in the room?”
“Which elephant?” Ezra asks, looking around as if expecting to see an actual fucking elephant.
“The fact that our dear Hunter has finally claimed his prize and brought her home to meet the family.”
The word family hangs in the air, weighted with meanings I don’t fully understand. But I can feel it—the bonds between these men, forged in whatever hell they shared.
“She’s not a prize,” Nikolai says, his voice carrying an edge.
“No?” Darius tilts his head. “Then what is she?”
“Mine.”
The single word drops like a stone into still water, creating ripples of reaction across eight faces. Some approving, some amused, some calculating.
“Possessive,” Marcus observes. “Your cortisol levels have spiked.”
“Because you’re all staring at her like she’s a particularly interesting experiment,” Nikolai snaps.
“Well,” Theon says reasonably, “she is.”
“She’s standing right here and has a name,” I point out.
“Yes,” Darius agrees, moving closer again. “You are indeed.” His fingers trail along my arm, feather-light but deliberate. “And you’re far more interesting than Nik’s usual… acquisitions.”
Nikolai’s entire body goes rigid beside me. “Step back.”
“Or what?” Darius’s smile turns predatory. “You’ll fight me for her? Here? Now?”
The tension in the room ratchets up several degrees. I can feel the attention of all eight men focusing like a laser, waiting to see what happens next.
“If I have to,” Nikolai says quietly.
“Fucking hell,” Damon mutters. “He’s actually serious.”
“Of course he’s serious,” Ezra says, not looking up from his equations. “The probability of Nikolai sharing her is effectively zero. Basic territorial psychology.”
“But sharing is caring,” Marcus says with mock hurt. “We share everything else.”
My head snaps toward him. “Everything?”
The resulting silence is loaded with implication.
“Oh,” Darius purrs, “you didn’t tell her about our… family bonding activities?”
Nikolai’s jaw ticks. “It’s not relevant.”
“Isn’t it?” Dominic pushes off from the wall, circling us like a shark scenting blood. “She’s part of the family now, isn’t she? Shouldn’t she understand how we… function?”
“We’re very close,” Theon explains clinically. “Physical intimacy serves multiple psychological and physiological purposes in our dynamic.”
My face burns. “You mean you all…?”
“Fuck people together senseless on a regular basis,” Marcus supplies helpfully. “Yes.”
“It’s stress relief,” Damon adds, like he’s discussing exercise routines. “And connection.”
“Until now,” Raphael speaks for the first time. “Interesting development.”
I look at Nikolai, whose expression has gone carefully blank. “You didn’t think to mention this?”
“It doesn’t change anything,” he says. “You’re not part of that. You’re mine. Only mine.”
“But she’s family now,” Darius insists, that dangerous smile never wavering. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
The endearment from his lips makes Nikolai growl—actually growl—low in his throat.
“Back off,” he warns.
“Make me.”
The challenge hangs in the air for three seconds before Nikolai moves. But instead of going for Darius, he spins me around, backs me against the nearest wall, and crashes his mouth against mine.
The kiss is fierce, possessive, a brand more than affection. His hands frame my face, holding me still while he devours me in front of his brothers. I can hear their voices—encouraging calls, appreciative comments, the casual obscenity of men who’ve seen each other in every possible state.
“That’s more like it,” someone calls out.
“About fucking time,” adds another voice.
Nikolai breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against mine. “They need to see,” he says quietly. “Need to understand.”
“Understand what?” I breathe.
“That you belong to me. Completely.” His hands slide down my body, bold and claiming. “Show them, Jenna. Show them what you chose.”
My pulse hammers against my throat. “Here? In front of everyone?”
“Here. Now. Let them watch while I remind you why you chose to stay.”
The rational part of my mind screams that this is insane, that normal people don’t do this. But I’m not normal anymore, and neither is he, and his brothers are watching with expressions ranging from aroused to fascinated to darkly amused.
“Fuck yes,” Marcus breathes. “Finally, some entertainment.”
“This should be educational,” Ezra murmurs.
Nikolai’s hands are already working at my clothes, peeling away layers while his mouth trails fire down my throat.
I arch against the wall as Nikolai’s hands claim every inch of exposed skin, his mouth hot and demanding against my throat. The knowledge that eight pairs of eyes are watching sends liquid fire straight to my core.
“Look at her.” Darius’s voice is thick with arousal. “Fucking beautiful.”
“She likes being watched,” Marcus observes, and I can hear the rustle of clothing, the unmistakable sound of a zipper. “Her pupils are blown wide, breathing’s shallow. She’s getting off on this.”
He’s right. God help me, he’s right.
Nikolai’s fingers find the hem of my shirt, yanking it over my head in one swift motion. My bra follows, and suddenly I’m half-naked in front of them all, my breasts bare and nipples hard from the cool air and their hungry stares.
“Fucking perfect tits,” someone groans.
“Christ, look at her nipples,” another voice adds. “Like little pink berries.”
Nikolai’s mouth closes over one peaked bud, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. His hands work at my jeans, dragging them down my legs along with my underwear until I’m naked, displayed like an offering.
“Spread her legs,” Darius suggests. “Let us see what our Hunter’s been claiming.”
Nikolai obliges without question, hooking my knees over his forearms and opening me wide. The position leaves me exposed, vulnerable, and so fucking turned on I might die from it.
“Jesus fuck,” Marcus breathes. “She’s soaked. Look at that pretty pink cunt, all wet and swollen.”
“She wants it,” Theon observes, though his voice carries heat. “The physiological responses are unmistakable.”
I watch as they all get their cocks out, but the sight that draws my attention is Marcus and Dominic pressed against each other near the couch, Marcus’s hand wrapped around both their cocks as they watch us.
“That’s it,” Dominic murmurs to Marcus, though his eyes never leave where Nikolai is positioning himself between my thighs. “Stroke us both while we watch him fuck her.”
The sight of them touching each other while watching us is obscene and beautiful and so fucking hot I nearly come from the sight.
Nikolai frees his cock, the piercing glinting in the light as he rubs the head through my slick folds. “Tell them,” he demands. “Tell them who you belong to.”
“You,” I gasp as he pushes just the tip inside. “I belong to you, Nikolai.”
“Louder,” Darius orders. “Let all of us hear it.”
“I belong to Nikolai!” The words tear from my throat as he slams home in one brutal thrust, filling me completely.
The room erupts in appreciative sounds as they pleasure themselves to the sight of us.
“Fuck her harder,” someone calls out.
“Make her scream,” adds another voice.
Nikolai sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving me harder against the wall. The angle lets him hit that perfect spot inside me with every stroke, building pressure that threatens to shatter my sanity.
“Look at how she takes his cock,” Marcus pants, his hand moving faster on himself and Dominic. “Such a good little slut, opening up for him like that.”
“Born to be fucked,” Dominic agrees, his head thrown back as Marcus’s grip tightens. “Born to be claimed and used and bred.”
The dirty words wash over me like gasoline on a flame. I’m burning up, consumed by sensation and the knowledge that they’re all getting off on seeing me taken so thoroughly.
“She’s close,” Ezra observes with clinical detachment that somehow makes it filthier. “Vaginal contractions increasing, vocal patterns shifting. Approximately thirty seconds to climax.”
“Come for us,” Darius commands. “Come on his cock while we watch. Show us how good he makes you feel.”
Nikolai’s thumb finds my clit, circling with perfect pressure as he pounds into me. The combination of his cock stretching me open and the visual of his brothers pleasuring themselves and each other pushes me over the edge.
I shatter, screaming his name as the orgasm tears through me like a wildfire. My pussy clamps down on his cock, milking him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.
“Fucking beautiful,” someone groans.
“Look at that cunt grip him,” Marcus pants. “She’s coming so hard she’s shaking.”
Nikolai follows me over, burying himself deep as he fills me with hot spurts of cum. His forehead drops to mine, both of us breathing hard as aftershocks ripple through my sensitized body.
Around us, I hear the sounds of his brothers finding their own release—Marcus and Dominic coming together with matched groans, others finishing with curses and praise for the show we just gave them.
“Well,” Darius says eventually, his voice slightly breathless. “Welcome to the family, Jenna.”
I’m still trembling, still pinned against the wall by Nikolai’s body, still processing what just happened. Part of me should be mortified, should demand he cover me, should run screaming from this den of beautiful, dangerous predators.
Instead, I feel claimed. Marked. Home.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and mean it.
Nikolai’s smile against my throat is pure possession. “You’re ours now. All of ours, in different ways. But you…” He pulls back to meet my eyes. “You’re mine completely.”
“Yes,” I breathe, because it’s true. Whatever these men are, whatever they’ve done, whatever they will do—I belong here. In this twisted, violent, impossibly intimate family.
I belong with him.