Chapter 27 Cora
CORA
The weight of exhaustion presses me into the couch like a physical thing.
I’ve barely moved since Mira left, drifting in and out of consciousness while some reality show plays on low.
My body feels like it belongs to someone else—aching, marked, used.
The memories of the Hunt flash through my mind in disjointed fragments. The masks. The feast. My father’s face.
The empty Thai food containers litter my coffee table. I should clean up. I should shower. I should pack. But every time I try to move, my limbs refuse to cooperate, heavy with a bone-deep weariness that sleep doesn’t touch.
The twenty-four hours are up.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, forcing myself upright. My head spins with the sudden movement. I haven’t packed a thing. Haven’t even thought about what I should take for a year away. A year belonging to them.
The buzzer sounds again, longer this time. More insistent.
I shuffle to the intercom, pressing the talk button with a trembling finger. “Hello?”
“Cora. It’s Dominic. Let me up.”
His voice sends a shiver through me—fear, anger, and something else I don’t want to name. I press the button to unlock the building’s front door without responding.
I crack open my apartment door and wait, listening to the elevator’s mechanical whirr.
When it opens, Dominic steps out alone. No Liam with his cutting smiles.
No Ryder with his gentle hands. Just Dominic in an impeccably tailored suit, looking like he’s come to close a business deal rather than collect me.
Our eyes meet, and I see something unexpected flicker across his face. Not triumph. Not lust. Something that looks almost like regret.
“You’re alone,” I say, the words coming out more accusatory than I intended.
“They’re at the penthouse,” Dominic says, stepping into my apartment without waiting for an invitation. “We thought it might be... easier if I came alone. Less overwhelming.”
I cross my arms over my chest, creating a barrier between us.
“Liam and Ryder are making dinner,” he continues when I don’t respond. “Probably destroying my kitchen as we speak. Ryder insisted on cooking as apparently he’s as good as Gordon Ramsey.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, an attempt at humor that falls flat in the space between us.
I turn away, moving toward my bedroom. “I need to pack.”
“Cora.” His voice stops me. “Baby girl. I missed you.”
The pet name sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I remember how it felt when he called me that in the Red Room, when I arched against him, desperate for his touch. Before I knew what they had planned.
“Don’t,” I say, my voice breaking. “You don’t get to call me that after what you did.”
“Your father—”
“My father is a monster,” I snap, whirling to face him. “But what you three did—making me sit there, using me like that in front of him—that was fucking cruel.”
Something flashes in his dark eyes. Not anger. Something worse. Understanding.
“I need to pack,” I repeat. “Just... give me some space.”
I hear Dominic’s footsteps behind me as I walk to my bedroom. He doesn’t respect the boundaries I’ve just set—of course, he doesn’t. His hand catches my wrist, not roughly, but with enough firmness that I can’t easily pull away.
“Cora, please,” he says, voice lower than before. “Look at me.”
I turn, because fighting him is exhausting, and I’m already so tired. His eyes meet mine, and I see a crack in that perfect, controlled mask he always wears.
“I fucked up,” he says simply. “We all did. But I’m the one who pushed for it. It was my idea.”
His thumb traces circles on the inside of my wrist, and I hate how my pulse jumps at his touch.
“I thought I wanted revenge,” he continues. “I thought using you to hurt him would feel good. But seeing your face when you realized what we’d done...” He stops, swallows hard. “It broke something in me, baby girl.”
His other hand lifts tentatively, hovering near my face as if he’s afraid to touch me. When I don’t flinch away, his fingers brush my jaw where the bruise is fading.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. “When you left for the twenty-four-hour reprieve, I felt like I couldn’t breathe right. Like something was missing.”
His forehead drops to rest against mine, and I feel the tremor that runs through him.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispers. “But I need you to know that what happened between us during the Hunt, what I feel for you, that wasn’t fake.”
I stare at Dominic, stunned by this display of vulnerability from a man who’s come across as carved from stone.
The hard edges I’ve come to associate with him have softened, revealing something human underneath.
For a moment, something inside me melts at the sight of a powerful, dominant man like him looking at me with what appears to be genuine regret.
But I can’t afford to be fooled again. I can’t mistake desire for care, or possession for love.
“I need to pack my things,” I say firmly, stepping back from his touch. “We have a fucking year to talk about this, Dominic. A whole year that you and your friends claimed me for. Right now, I need some space.”
His eyes darken at my words. He moves closer, backing me against the wall. Before I can protest, his mouth is on mine, demanding and insistent.
I push against his chest, turning my face away. “Don’t—”
But his hands frame my face, gentler than his kiss, bringing my mouth back to his. I struggle against him, teeth catching his bottom lip harder than necessary.
Instead of pulling back, he groans, pressing his body flush against mine. The sound awakens something dark within, a mix of anger and desire tangling together until I can’t separate them anymore.
I kiss him back with violence instead of tenderness, my fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to bruise. I pour all my rage into the kiss, biting and taking rather than giving.
Dominic’s body responds instantly, his cock hardening against me as he crowds me further against the wall. When we finally break apart for air, his pupils are blown wide, his perfect composure shattered.
“That’s it,” he growls, voice rough with arousal. “Show me your claws, baby girl. I like it when you fight back.”
I’m still furious with him, still hurt beyond words—but this anger feels like power in a way I’ve never experienced before.
And Dominic wanting me to fight him lights up a very dark place inside me.
I’ve spent my life defying my father but always tiptoeing around him—knowing exactly when to push and when to retreat. Always playing by unspoken rules that keep me safe. But this is different. This isn’t rebellion or defiance. This is primal.
With my father, resistance means punishment. With Dominic, resistance means pleasure for both of us.
“I should hate you,” I whisper against his mouth, my breath coming quick and shallow.
His hands tighten on my hips, thumbs pressing into the bruises he and the others left on my skin during the Hunt. “You probably should.”
I feel the hardness of him against me, his desire unmistakable. And despite everything—despite the humiliation, despite the betrayal, despite knowing better—my body responds in kind.
“I do hate you,” I tell him, even as I arch against him.
“Good,” he says, voice thick with arousal. “Hold onto that. Use it.”
The darkness inside me unfurls like ink in water. The tension between us crackles like lightning through the sky. It’s dark and dangerous, but so is everything between us.
“I want you to fuck me while I fight you,” I whisper, the words escaping before I can second-guess them.
Dominic freezes, his eyes widening before narrowing. A feral expression crosses his face—hunger, possession, and a dark delight that makes my core clench with anticipation.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I lean forward, my lips brushing his ear. “Midnight,” I whisper. “If I say ‘midnight,’ you stop. No matter what.”
The moment the safe word passes between us, something shifts. Contract established. Boundaries set. Freedom to explore safely.
His reaction is immediate. His hand shoots up to my throat, not squeezing but applying firm pressure as he slams me back against the wall. The controlled violence in his movement sends a thrill racing down my spine.
“You think fighting me will change anything?” he growls, pressing his body against mine. “You signed that contract, baby girl. You’re mine now.”
I struggle against his grip, pushing against his chest even as heat pools between my legs. My pussy grows wet with arousal despite—or because of—his dominance.
“I’m not yours,” I spit back, the denial feeling deliciously false on my tongue.
His eyes darken. “We both know that’s a lie,” he says, his free hand sliding down to cup me through my leggings. “Your soaking wet cunt knows who you belong to.”
I gasp at the contact, hating how my hips instinctively press forward into his touch. The knowing smirk that crosses his face makes me want to slap him—and kiss him—in equal measure.
I lash out, my palm connecting with Dominic’s cheek in a sharp slap that echoes through my apartment. His head snaps to the side, but when he turns back, his dark eyes are blazing with excitement rather than anger.
“No!” I scream, pushing against his chest with both hands. “Get off me!”
His grip tightens as he spins me around, shoving me face-first into the wall. I feel his breath hot against my ear as he pins me with his body weight.
“You think anyone can hear you?” he growls, one hand tangling in my hair while the other roughly yanks down my leggings. “You think anyone would help you if they could?”
I thrash against him, my elbow connecting with his ribs. He grunts but doesn’t relent. Instead, he presses harder against me.
“Stop it!” I shout, twisting and bucking futilely.
Dominic chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine despite my struggle. He kicks my legs apart, holding me in place with his body as he frees himself from his pants.
“Keep fighting me,” he commands, his voice thick with arousal. “I love watching you struggle.”
I feel him positioning himself, and I renew my efforts to break free. “Don’t you dare—”
My words cut off in a gasp as he pushes inside me with one powerful thrust. The sudden fullness makes my knees buckle, but his arm around my waist keeps me upright.
“No, no, no,” I chant, the words dissolving into sobs of pleasure as he begins to move.
“Your mouth says no,” Dominic groans in my ear, biting down on my shoulder hard enough to make me cry out. “But your body says yes.”
I slam my head back, connecting with his chin. He curses but laughs through it, the sound dark and appreciative.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he pants, picking up his pace. “Fight me. It only makes me harder.”
“You sick bastard,” I spit out, clawing at the wall as Dominic pounds into me from behind. My voice breaks on the last word as he hits a spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Such a filthy mouth on you, baby girl. Maybe we should find a better use for it.”
I’ve never been this wet before, never felt this desperate, ravenous need burning through me.
The fantasy of being taken against my will while knowing I could end it with a single word is intoxicating.
The struggle magnifies every thrust, every point where his body controls mine, heightened by my pretended resistance.
“I hate you,” I gasp as he tangles his fingers tighter in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, just hard enough to make me shiver.
“No, you don’t,” Dominic growls, his pace never faltering. “Your body’s begging for it. For me.”
His hand slides around to where we’re joined, fingers finding my clit with unerring precision. I buck against him, torn between pressing into his touch and maintaining our game.
“Tell Daddy what you want,” he demands, his voice dropping to that tone that makes my insides liquefy. “Beg Daddy for his cum.”
I struggle harder, the words sending a shock of heat straight to my core. “No—I won’t—”
He slams particularly deep, making me cry out. His fingers tighten in my hair. “Beg for it,” he repeats. “Tell Daddy how badly you want his cum.”
“Please,” I whimper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
“Please, what?” His movements slow to an agonizing pace.
“Please, Daddy,” I whisper, the word making my whole body tighten around him. “I want your cum.”
“You know what happens when I fill you up, baby girl?” His voice is like gravel. “I’m going to breed you so full you’ll taste me at the back of your throat.”
His words send a molten bolt of heat through me. I’ve never been into breeding talk before, but from Dominic’s lips, it’s perfection.
“Every drop inside you will change you,” he continues, his fingers digging into my hips. “Makes you a little more mine. A little less the mayor’s perfect daughter. Every time I breed you, another piece of your old life dies.”
The unexpected twist—how he frames it as transformative, as claiming me from my father—makes me clench around him. There’s something darkly liberating in his words.
“Your body was made for this,” Dominic pants against my neck. “Made to take my seed. To be remade by it.”
His hand slides from my hip to my stomach, pressing flat against it as he thrusts deeper. “I’m going to fill this perfect body until you forget who you were before me.”
I’m so close now, trembling on the edge, fighting it even as I chase it. “I won’t—I can’t—”
“You will,” he promises, his control fracturing, movements becoming frantic. “You’re already changing. I can feel it.”
He hits that perfect spot inside me, and I shatter, screaming as waves of pleasure crash through me. Dominic follows immediately, my name a broken prayer on his lips as he pulses inside me, filling me with cum.
We remain pressed against the wall, both panting for breath. His forehead rests against my shoulder, his body joined with mine. I feel utterly claimed, utterly changed, as he promised.
The thought should terrify me. It should make me push him away.
Instead, I find myself leaning back against his chest, accepting his weight, his presence.
And I realize with perfect clarity—no matter how angry I am with him, with Liam, with Ryder—this toxic yet explosive dynamic between us isn’t something I can easily walk away from. It’s rewiring me, just as Dominic said. Changing me into someone who craves the very darkness that should repel me.