Page 7 of Claimed By the Billionaires

Every torturous, horrific moment that they had gone through culminated in this one moment right here. And not once throughout their pact, their vow to each other, to their people, did they falter, nor did they want to give up and live ordinary lives.

The stakes outweighed everything for them—every single thing, every single day without rest. They’d had to learn the art of patience until it became second nature for them when, in their blood, ran the fury of their ancestors.

But they learned, and now the levels of their control exceeded human limits. Their focus was one thing and one thing only. Stoicism became their way of life while, in the deepest recess of their minds, they still raged with fire and violence, their internal wrath enough to scorch the earth and everyone on it.

No one knew of the inferno inside them that they nurtured and kept fed until it was time to release all hell. They were ready, but it had taken a lifetime to get to this point.

The men standing beside him were more than any blood brother could be. They shared their grief and their hatred as early as they could talk and understand who the bad guys were.

It was all because of one man, Dennis Crane, who told them about their history, about their parents, and about their mission that kept them going. He made living a lie more bearable. He reminded them of what was at stake. And they grew stronger with every day that passed.

For now, everything pointed to the virgin in the blindfold, bound to the stone ceiling of their dungeon, her breasts heavy with ambrosia for them, that they would drink in front of their guests.

The underground dungeon was filled with the four families of note. The heads of the Leoni family, the Basilisk family, and the Swan family were people they considered friends and allies.

The Leoni and Basilisk families have just gone through their own virgin rituals and surprised everyone when they made their virgins their wives and would gladly decapitate anyone who said otherwise or dared to touch a strand of hair on their wives’ heads.

Unfortunately for Winter Creer, there wasn’t going to be a fairytale happy ending for her.

Not when she was their enemy.

Chapter Four

She was going to pass out.

Winter’s panic saturated her pores and blinded her. Without thinking, she jerked at the restraints on her wrists and ankles. The sound of the metal echoed around her, mocking her until the most shocking thing happened.

She shrank back as the mask was removed from her face. Even in the dim, torch-lit dungeon, enclosed in a thick velvet curtain, she was still forced to squint her eyes as she took in the sight before her. And then an onslaught of anxiety assailed her.

They weren’t supposed to remove her mask, not until after they had declared her pure and a virgin to their audience. It had been written that way centuries ago.

Confusion spilled into her eyes, and her mind couldn’t formulate enough words to question them.

They weren’t supposed to look at her until they knew she was a virgin.

This was their own virgin ritual; how did they not know this? And if they did, why did they remove the mask from her face in the first place?

But if she thought she had prepared herself enough to see them in person, she was wrong.

So, very wrong.

The three men standing before her, each one of them well over six feet tall, blocked out everything else from her sight. She was no longer in a dark dungeon with scary shadows and an audience in attendance, there to witness the proof of her innocence as decided by the Masters of Pegasus.

Everything faded into oblivion until she was on a different plain, in a new realm, and it was only her and them.

Aston Branch. Konnor Stone. Houston Forbes.

In the midst of the mayhem of her body defying her, her gaze slid over them, and her heart missed a beat. She could never have been prepared to see them in person, not even a little, not when they were the epitome of enthrallment in the flesh.

She found herself unable to look away from the astounding structure of their faces.

Her body vibrated with every ripple of their jaws as they looked at her. But she was soon distracted by their magnificence again. She became fascinated with the masculine shape of their lips. Hard and unsmiling, yet captivating at the same time.

Their bespoke suits, costing more than her father made with three months’ turnover in his business, were perfectly tailored against their bodies, but that didn’t quite hide from the fact that they were made of muscle and raw power, but also of violence and lethal danger. Suave and ruthless—a deadly combination.

A shiver slid down her spine, contrasting with the formidable heat she was still fighting against. They could hurt her. They were going to hurt her physically, and with that truth came the realization they would damage her emotionally.

She sucked in a breath to curtail her floundering thoughts.

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