“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. Alittle 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.
28
DOMINIC
The ride to my penthouse passes in tense silence. Cora stares out the window, jaw set, refusing to acknowledge me. I focus on the road, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. I know I pushed her hard back at the apartment—too hard, maybe—but this woman does something to me. Breaks through my control in ways no one else ever has.
“We’re here.” My voice sounds rough even to my own ears.
She doesn’t respond, simply unbuckles her seatbelt and waits for me to come around and open her door. Even furious, all those years of political training show through.
As we walk through the garage toward the private elevator, I watch her profile. Those high cheekbones, that stubborn chin. I’ve been obsessed with her since the first time I saw her at a charity gala last year. She wore blue that night, her smile practiced as she worked the room on her father’s behalf. It was just after Pike tanked my waterfront development, costing me millions. I should have hated everything about her.
Instead, I couldn’t look away.
The truth is, she’s always been my obsession. From the first moment I saw her at that charity gala, something about CoraPike got under my skin. I watched her for months after that—the perfect smile that never quite reached her eyes, the way she stood in her father’s shadow while somehow managing to shine brighter than him.
When I overheard Mira at Purgatory that night, practically begging Xavier to allow her into the Hunt, something primal inside me roared to life. Xavier had refused her, of course, because they already had five prey, but I couldn’t let her slip away.
I never factored Liam and Ryder into the equation. The Hunt was supposed to encompass my revenge, my pleasure, and my conquest. Sharing her wasn’t part of the plan.
The elevator doors slide open to my penthouse, and immediately the rich aroma of garlic and herbs fills the air. Cora stiffens beside me, her eyes darting around the open-concept space.
Ryder stands at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up past his tattooed forearms, chopping something like a pro. He looks up, flashes that disarming smile.
“Perfect timing. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Across the room, Liam lounges on my Italian leather sofa, one arm stretched along the back, a glass of red wine in his fingers. His tie is loosened, his jacket discarded. He looks like he belongs here, which should irritate me. Instead, I find myself noting how the evening light catches in his brown hair.
“Welcome home,” he says, raising his glass in our direction. His eyes linger on Cora, assessing her state, before meeting mine with a raised eyebrow. “Looks like Dom already ate?” The innuendo hangs heavy in the air.
Ryder laughs from the kitchen, pointing a wooden spoon in our direction. “That’s not fair, having fun without us.” His eyes dance with mischief, but there’s a hint of genuine disappointment there, too.
I feel Cora tense beside me, her breath quickening slightly. The air around her practically vibrates with anxiety. She’s holding herself too stiffly, eyes darting between the three of us like a cornered animal calculating escape routes.
