Chapter 18 Cora
CORA
Idrift in and out of consciousness, my body too exhausted to maintain full awareness.
The Orgy Room smells like sex, sweat, and cologne mixed with our combined releases.
My muscles ache in ways I’ve never experienced, a full-body soreness that reminds me exactly what those three men have done to me over the past forty-seven hours.
Somewhere in the fog of my exhaustion, I hear a voice. Distant. Clinical. Speaking about phases and claiming and baths.
“...final phase of the Hollow’s Hunt begins...”
I try to focus, but my eyelids feel weighted with lead. The words wash over me like water, meaningful but somehow disconnected from reality. My mind is too foggy to process what comes after the orgy room. Is this the end? Does the Hunt conclude here?
“...The Claiming Baths await...”
Claiming. The word penetrates my haze. The word should terrify me, but instead it sends a strange flutter through my chest.
I force my eyes open, squinting against the dim red lighting. A woman in elegant black stands at the edge of our alcove, her silver hair pinned back with geometric precision. She’s saying something about oils and towels and robes, her voice carrying the weight of ceremonial importance.
My vision sharpens as I watch her gesture to attendants carrying vessels that shimmer in the low light.
“...Each hunter privately bathes their prey. It is tradition. It is an honor. It is the possession of their spoils of the Hunt made sacred...”
The words are beautiful and disturbing in equal measure. Spoils. Like I’m war booty to be claimed and displayed. Yet the way she speaks makes it sound like something sacred.
I blink, trying to clear the fog from my mind. Around me, the other women are beginning to stir. My eyes dart across the massive orgy room, searching for the familiar face I desperately need to see.
There.
Mira.
She’s wrapped in Xavier’s arms, his mask back in place, but his body language unmistakably possessive. When our eyes meet across the distance, I see concern flicker across her face—worry for me.
I try to convey reassurance with my gaze, though I’m not sure I manage it. My muscles won’t cooperate properly. Everything feels slow and syrupy, like I’m moving through honey.
The silver-haired attendant continues her formal announcement: “The baths have been prepared. The hunters await.”
I struggle to my feet and follow the attendant down a shiny marble corridor; the sweet scent of oils fills the air. As we move along, each of us is ushered down different corridors. As I’m guided left into my chamber, my heart skips a beat seeing three shadows lingering there waiting for me.
Suddenly, hands are on me—gentle but firm. My men surround me immediately. Dominic on one side, Ryder on the other, Liam somewhere behind.
“Come on, princess,” Ryder murmurs, his arm around my waist the only thing keeping me upright. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Easy,” Dominic says, his hand warm against the small of my back. “The baths aren’t far.”
I want to ask what comes after—what happens when this is over, when the seventy-two hours conclude. But my tongue feels too heavy, my mind too foggy for coherent speech. All I can do is let them guide me through the labyrinth of corridors.
“Did you sleep well, sweetheart?” Liam’s voice is soft. His hand reaches down to squeeze mine gently.
I manage a small nod, though sleep isn’t what happened. More like complete unconsciousness—my body’s surrender to the relentless attention of three insatiable men.
We round a corner, and the air changes. Warmer. Humid. The faint scent of essential oils and steamed marble reaches my nostrils.
“Here we are,” Ryder says, his breath warm against my temple.
I’m not ready to go back to being Mayor Pike’s perfect daughter. I’m not ready to lose Dominic’s commanding presence, Liam’s calculating attention, Ryder’s passionate intensity.
For the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I want to be.
And the thought terrifies me.
The bath chamber is a marvel of white marble and gold fixtures. Steam rises from a sunken pool large enough for all four of us, the water’s surface scattered with flower petals and glowing with soft underwater lights.
Dominic leads me into the warm water, his hands steady on my waist. I sink into the perfumed bath with a small gasp of pleasure as my sore muscles immediately begin to relax.
“Let us take care of you,” Liam murmurs, lifting a porcelain pitcher to pour warm water over my shoulders.
They surround me in the large bath—Dominic behind me, supporting my weight against his chest; Liam at my side with fragrant oils; Ryder kneeling before me with a soft cloth. Their touches are different now. Not demanding. Not claiming. Just... caring.
Ryder’s fingers trace over the yellowing bruise on my ribs. His eyes darken as he discovers others on my upper arm.
“Who did this to you?” His voice is soft but dangerous.
I look away, focusing on a mosaic of sea creatures on the far wall.
“Cora.” Ryder’s hand gently turns my face back toward him. “Look at me.”
I reluctantly meet his gaze, finding nothing but concern there.
“Was it him? Your father?” His thumb brushes over the fading bruise on my jawline. “Did the mayor do this to you?”
I swallow hard, shame burning in my chest. “It’s not a big deal. He just... loses his temper sometimes.”
Dominic’s body tenses behind me. Liam stops mid-motion with the oils.
“That son of a bitch,” Ryder whispers, rage flashing in his eyes. “If I’d known...”
“Known what?” My voice sounds small even to my own ears.
“That he hurt you. That he’s been hurting you.” Ryder’s hand cups my cheek. “I already wanted revenge for what he did to my business, but this?” He shakes his head, jaw clenched. “This makes it even more fucking personal.”
I drop my gaze, unable to handle the intensity in Ryder’s eyes. His words sound too sincere, and I can’t afford to believe them. Hope is dangerous. I learned that lesson growing up in my father’s house, where every warm moment was inevitably followed by cold fury.
“You don’t need to pretend,” I whisper, watching water droplets roll down my skin. “I know why I’m here. I know what this is.”
Dominic’s arms tighten around me. “Do you?” His voice rumbles against my back, vibrating through my spine. “Because I’m not sure we do anymore.”
The bath water ripples around us, creating small waves that break against my skin. I want to believe them. God, I want to believe that the tenderness they’re showing isn’t just another form of manipulation. But believing means vulnerability, and vulnerability has only ever brought me pain.
“When this is over...” I start, then stop, because I don’t know how to finish that sentence. When this is over, what? I go back to my father’s house. Back to law school applications, and charity galas, and ducking when he raises his hand?
Liam’s fingers trace a pattern along my shoulder, leaving trails of fragrant oil that glisten in the low light. “When this is over, we talk. About what you want. About what we want.”
“And if they don’t align?” My voice catches.
“Then we figure it out,” Ryder says, as if the answer could possibly be that easy.
The warmth surrounding me isn’t just from the water.
It’s from their bodies, their touch, their unexpected concern.
I’ve never felt this protected, this secure—not even before my mother died and my father changed.
The irony that I feel safest with the three men who hunted me for sport isn’t lost on me.
“I don’t understand,” I admit. “You wanted revenge. You wanted to hurt him by...” I gesture vaguely at myself, at my nakedness.
“Plans change,” Dominic says quietly. “People change.”
I can’t let myself hope. Hope is the thing that destroys you when it’s snatched away.