Kissed by Shadows: Chapter 11

After making soup for us all, I yell for Hunt and he joins us in the kitchen to eat. There’s something that just feels right about us all sitting down, eating our meal together. There wasn’t anything lacking before yesterday, before Iris Montgomery came storming into our lives like a whirlwind, all soft curves and beguiling eyes, but there’s definitely something more now that she’s here.

Like maybe we were just passing the time until she arrived.

Roman and I bounced around a lot of foster homes when we were kids, until finally, when we were ten, we were fostered by a couple in another flat on the estate and met Hunt, who was fourteen at the time and already making a name for himself. We quickly formed a brotherhood, working together to help out the youngsters on the estate, undertaking small jobs for bigger gangs in the area, slowly building the Shadows until it became formidable and feared. And through it all, we were at the centre, Hunter our driving force, our leader and the one everyone always deferred to.

My gaze is fixed on Iris, on the way the sunlight highlights each freckle on her face, and like the stars in the sky, I want to map each one, catalogue them until I know them as well as I know my own face. My brother would call it the beginning of one of my obsessions, one of my fixations, but I know that it’s something much more than that. She’s ours, I can feel it in my bones, even if someone like her should never truly be with anyone like us.

She’s all polished diamonds while we’re the hammers used to extract the precious stones. We’re the dirt that surrounds them, keeping them safe and closeted deep in the earth.

“Nikolai and his two goons will come up here, escorted and stripped of all weapons of course,” Hunter tells us, using a piece of bread to scoop up the last of the soup before licking his fingers clean. I watch as Iris, my Little Lamb, delicately brings the soup spoon up to her lips, pursing them and tipping the liquid inside her mouth with not a sound.

Fucking diamonds alright.

And the way she’s so pure, so innocent, it’s what made me give her that name. She’s a lamb, ready for the slaughter, but I’ll be damned if it’s anyone but me who wields the knife. And unlike so many before her, I’ll put her back together, better than before.

“Is that wise? Having them so close to our home? No one ever comes up here,” my brother interjects, drawing me back from my observations of our beautiful captive.

“I did,” the lady in question adds in a quiet voice, looking down at her spoon as she dips it back into the bowl. Fucking hell, I could watch her all day while she eats, it’s mesmerising.

“That’s different,” Roman states but doesn’t elaborate. He’s right though, she was never going to be a threat.

“We can protect her best here, plus it’ll set them on edge,” Hunter tells us, throwing his spoon into the now empty bowl with a clatter that makes Iris jump.

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” she rushes to say, lying her spoon gently in her bowl and wiping her fingers on the napkin that she asked for, which I found in the back of one of the drawers. I scowl when I see almost half her bowl of soup left, and reaching over, I take the spoon, scooping some soup up before bringing it to her lips as large hazel eyes land on mine. “Oh, I’m full, thank you.”

“A little more,” I insist, not lowering the spoon. She licks her lips, and then without protesting, opens them. I hold my breath as I slide the spoon inside her mouth, my dick twitching when she closes her plush lips over it and takes the soup from the end. “Good girl.”

She swallows hard, her pupils blowing out, and one side of my lips tilt upwards. Looks like our lamb has a praise kink.

“Jesus,” Roman rasps from her other side, drawing my attention when he shifts in his seat, clearly adjusting his own arousal. “I call dibs on feeding her next time.”

Her head whips around to him, and I can only imagine the glare she levels at him. “I’m not a fucking pet, Ro!”

“But you do like to be stroked,” he counters, and I see the way her breathing hitches, her back stilling.

“Fuck’s sake, Roman. Can you focus for one fucking second?” Hunt sighs, though his eyes don’t leave Iris, no doubt remembering how well she responded to his stroking in here earlier.

“Sorry, Daddy,” my brother teases, ever the flirt. I hear Iris’s sharp intake of breath, and I snap my head to see her shifting on her seat, her thighs rubbing together as she looks between Hunt and Roman. Looks like she’s also turned on by the thought of Hunt and my brother together. Especially if the way her hands clench and open in her lap and her chest thrusts out are any indication.

Roman was always the more outgoing twin, the centre of attention, the life and soul of any party. He uses his easygoing nature to gather affection in an attempt to soothe the wounds of a shared childhood trauma.

Our story isn’t a pretty one, like so many on this estate, we were a meal ticket, a way for our foster parents to earn a bit extra without having to actually do anything for the twin boys who landed on their doorstep. We’d spent our entire lives in foster care, moving from place to place, never having a true home. In a couple of our placements, we were also something else, something that leaves scars so deep they never truly heal. Free labour, a punching bag, an unwilling hole.

I made a virtue of my more reserved nature, making it my job to study people, work out what makes them tick, what each behaviour means. I also studied the purpose of each muscle in the human body, what every nerve is responsible for, and how best to inflict pain while keeping someone alive. I made those others pay, the ones who left the deepest wounds.

I often don’t feel the same as others, my emotions taking a little longer to surface, if they do at all. It’s what makes my reaction to Iris so uncommon. She makes me feel so much more than I have in years. With the childhood we had, it was easier to just switch that part off, to not feel all the shit that was slung our way.

But like the spring sunshine after a cold, harsh winter, Iris Montgomery is breathing some life back into me, and even more curiously, I’m not mad about it.

“Rowan?” Hunt’s voice filters into my thoughts, and I blink, turning my head to look at him.

“Sorry, I missed that,” I admit, and his eyebrows raise to his hairline. I never miss anything.

“You will greet Petrov and his guys at the estate entrance, ensure they have no weapons, and then escort them up here. Understood?” Hunter commands, and I give a sharp nod. “Good. We have”—he glances down at the gold watch on his wrist that Roman likes to tease him about—“seven hours. They will be here at nine.”

With that, he gets up, taking his bowl and spoon over to the dishwasher and placing it inside. Without so much as a look at us, or Iris, he stalks from the room, probably heading to the office space to do all the shit that needs doing to run the empire that he’s created. He may be young by society’s standards, but in terms of gang life, he’s getting on, hell, we’re all older than we expected to live. Hunt has a determination that I’ve yet to see matched. He bends the world around him to his will, forces the fates to comply with what he decrees, and as such, we all follow him, all trust him with our lives. I often wonder about the burden that type of responsibility represents, how heavy that must weigh on him sometimes.

Iris watches him go, a furrow between her delicate brows. Maybe she sees the toll it takes to be a leader, the way he’s always looking out for others and very rarely himself.

“Let’s finish lunch, then we can watch that film,” Roman says to Iris, and she glances from the door to my brother.

“Don’t you have work to do?” she asks, her eyes shining with what looks like hope.

“Nothing that can’t keep,” he tells her, and I watch as the small smile transforms her face into something breathtaking. My chest burns, because I want to make her smile like that. “And there’s still the small matter of the rest of my meal.” Her cheeks blaze then, her pulse thrashing in her neck letting me know that he’s definitely flirting with her.

“I’ll join you if you like?” I blurt, ignoring the way my brother’s lips twitch into a grin. Her head snaps up to me, her smile widening.

“You will? I’d love that,” she replies, and the burn in my torso turns into a raging inferno, but one that fills my limbs, making me feel lighter than I have in a long while.

I change into a fresh pair of knickers and harems, the twins and I spending the rest of the afternoon watching films and getting to know more about each other. They’re really interested in my time at Wyndham’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, Roman teasing me about being in a dorm full of girls and asking all kinds of inappropriate questions that leaves me, as usual, blushing. I’m not sure why they are so fascinated, it was several years of deportment lessons, making tea, and make-up lessons. The only highlight was the art and textile classes, where I learnt how to knit and developed a love of all things yarn related.

They’re pretty quiet about themselves, especially their childhood, glossing over what it was like before moving onto the estate and not really going into too much detail about living with the Jones’; the family that took them in from the age of ten. They do have me in stitches, telling me all about the shenanigans they and Hunter got up to on the estate, though I still get the feeling that I’m not getting the full picture. That there’s so much more darkness, their omission speaking volumes.

Roman is definitely the more outgoing one, his energy not unlike a golden retriever puppy, all bouncy and sunshine. He’s constantly touching me in some small way, teasing me, and he seems to take great delight in causing my cheeks to burn at every opportunity, the bastard.

Rowan is more like a cat, sitting there, watching, waiting. Though he doesn’t isolate himself, sitting next to me the entire time, his hand reaching out and capturing mine in a cool grip. I don’t pull away, instead interlacing my fingers with his, enjoying the way the simple touch brings me comfort.

I’d never really thought about it before, but my father and I were close, hugged all the time. I missed the casual affection when I went to finishing school. A couple of the girls were my friends, but nothing close to what I had with a girl called Ember back in grammar school. We were inseparable, though grew apart when I was sent off to learn how to be a lady and she got to go to a normal college. I really must get back in touch with her.

The smell of cooking draws us to the kitchen, finding Hunter dishing up a creamy pasta dish that has my mouth salivating.

“That smells amazing,” I say, walking over to the island and looking into the pasta bowls as fragrant steam wafts from them. Sitting down, I take a huge inhale, the delicious smell practically giving me an orgasm.

“It’s just carbonara,” he tells me, but a smile plays around his lush lips.

Scoffing, I pull a bowl towards me, grabbing a fork before twirling some of the spaghetti and bringing it to my lips. I blow on it, Hunt’s sharp exhale drawing my attention as I open my mouth and place the pasta inside, my eyes captivated by his green ones.

“Oh my god, Hunt,” I groan as the creamy garlic flavour bursts on my tongue, my eyelids fluttering. “This is better than the carbonara I had when I was in Naples last year.”

A blush creeps across his cheeks as he places the last of the spaghetti into a bowl, then rinses the pan before loading it into the dishwasher. The twins come up to me, sitting on either side of me, leaving the chair at the end for Hunter.

My brows furrow, and I glance at the table, seeing the four chairs around the circular wooden top. If we sat there, it would mean I could see all of them.

“Can we sit at the table?” I ask, and everyone pauses. “It just seems more…friendly?”

“If you wanted us to be more friendly, Princess, you just needed to ask.” Roman grins while waggling his eyebrows at me and I roll my eyes.

“Please?” I ask, not sure why it feels so important to sit at the round table, but it does. Maybe I’m craving that closeness that I’ve lost with my father. We used to eat meals together all the time, laughing and enjoying each other’s company as we ate. My chest goes tight at the thought of another thing I won’t be doing with him anytime soon, if ever. Would I even want to now? After what he did, how does one forgive their parent for selling them off like a piece of furniture?

Rowan grabs a bowl, picking up mine and taking it over to the table without a word, then coming back for our water glasses. I give him a small smile before getting out of my seat and walking over to the table, my grin growing when he pulls out my chair and ushers me into it.

“Thank you, Rowan,” I say softly, beaming when Roman and Hunter join us, Roman on my other side and Hunt across from me. “This is much better.”

Hunter huffs as he sits down, but my breath catches when moments later, a sock-covered foot starts playing with mine under the table. It’s coming from right in front of me, and the only person it could belong to is Hunter, his face blank as his toes drag along my arch. Taking a shaky inhale, I reach for my glass as I bring my foot up his calf, stroking up and down. He coughs into his bowl, and I have to bite my lip to stop the giggle from escaping and revealing our secret game.

I keep mostly silent as they talk about the plan for tonight and what else needs to be done for the club night they’re organising next weekend. It sounds awesome, and apparently Roman is a bit of a DJ so he will be doing the music. I’m determined to go, but won’t push it yet. If I learned nothing else at Wyndham’s, it was that sometimes a man needs time to come around to an idea. Even better if you can make him think it was his idea all along. Yep, they were big into how we can use our womanly wiles to manipulate, and as men seem to have been using their masculine dominance over me for the past few days, I’m not above some retaliation.

Soon, our bowls are empty and our bellies full, Hunter’s foot giving mine a final caress before he gets up and reaches over to take my bowl, then walks back to the dishwasher. I’ve noticed that he’s super tidy and organised. I can’t wait until he sees all my knitting projects spread across the house. I’m what my father called a ‘wafting creative,’ not so organised chaos, and Hunter is not ready for the explosion that is going to happen tomorrow when all my parcels arrive and I can really get creative.

“I really should do something. I can’t just have you guys wait on me hand and foot all the time,” I tell them, earning the curious gazes of all three guys.

“I can get you a maid’s outfit and feather duster if you like?” Roman offers, face serious and tone deadpan. “My bedroom is in need of a clean.”

“But then the outfit would get all dirty. I’d probably be better to not wear anything at all, just to be safe,” I reply, holding back a laugh at his stunned expression. “After all, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

His nostrils flare and I hear two growls.

“What the fuck do you mean, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before?” Hunter grits out, bracing his arms against the island, giving Roman a death glare that has me chuckling.

“Stand down, Hulk. He just helped me dry off after my shower this morning,” I say casually, feeling the heat warm my cheeks as all three pairs of eyes train on me. I guess I kind of thought that they were a package deal, that it was okay to be intimate with them all, but Hunter looks pissed, although he is a caveman so that might account for it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I’ll help you tomorrow,” Rowan states, no room for any kind of argument, like it’s a done deal.

“I–Um–I can manage myself,” I stammer as my gaze snaps to him, my entire body flushing hot.

“Then I get the day after,” Hunter adds, all three of them looking away from me to each other, faces unreadable. I get whiplash from how fast I glance at them, my mouth agape.

“I can dry myself!” I squeak out, squirming as their attention falls to me once more. Evangeline calls me a dirty liar because we both know that I thoroughly enjoyed having Roman dry me. Either way, I don’t want them to argue over me. “I really don’t need help.”

“If we’re keeping things equal, then I get my fingers inside her next,” Rowan adds, and I gasp at the same time as all the hair on my arms and nape stands on end.

“I’m sitting right here, fuckers!” I yell, pushing up from my seat, my chest heaving. The worst part is I’m not sure if it’s from anger or the lust that’s leaving my breath panting. Perhaps it’s both? “If I say I don’t need help in the shower, o–or your fingers in my pussy, then, well, that’s it.”

Raising my chin, my chest tightens as Hunter stalks around the island, coming towards me with a maniacal grin on his face. He’s all feline grace, like a panther, one you found as a kitten, all cute and harmless, only to wake up one day to find a beast in its place.

“What were the terms of our protection?” he asks as he comes closer, his voice low and menacing. Then he comes to a stop right in front of me, our bodies almost touching. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, his height another way he tries to intimidate me, but he won’t get the satisfaction this time.

“I paid the price, on my knees,” I hiss in a snarled whisper, but his nearness is confusing my body, my nerve endings lighting up even as my mind tells me to run far away.

“And what else, Peaches?” he questions softly, his large hand coming out to brush along the side of my face, his thumb swiping over my bottom lip in a way that has my body giving a full shudder despite my mind telling him to fuck all the way off.

“And…” I swallow, knowing what I agreed to but hating that he’s tainting the thing that was brewing between us, between us all, as an obligation, a transaction. “And learn obedience.”

“Good girl,” the motherfucking ballsack coos, the words hitting my core with the force of a lightning bolt. “So if we decide that we are going to help you dry after your shower, or Rowan wants to sink his fingers inside that pretty pussy of yours, what will you say?”

My jaw clenches, the words trapped. I gave them freely earlier, but now it’s like he’s ripping them from me. My mind takes me back to last night—to the early hours of this morning—when he told me why I might want my control taken from me, that it would allow me to be free. Is that what this is? Is he taking control so I won’t have to think about anything other than existing? Or is he being a dominating arsehole?

“Yes, Daddy,” I grit out, the sharp intakes of the twins hitting me in my solar plexus even as my cheeks burn and my throat thickens. Did I give in too quickly? Should I fight more? Is this⁠—

“Stop thinking, Peaches.” Hunter’s demand breaks through my swirling thoughts, shutting off all the voices that are telling me this is some kind of fucked-up situation. My wide eyes latch onto his, the green somehow calming my racing heart as his warm palms come up to cradle my face. “We will never hurt you, never take what isn’t ours or what you don’t want to give. Trust us.”

I feel my lower lip tremble, everything becoming overwhelming once more. “But how do I know it’s not wrong?” My voice is barely above a whisper, the worry slipping past my lips without my permission to be voiced.

His entire face softens then. “Close your eyes, Peaches.” Slowly, hesitantly, I do as he says, taking a deep inhale of his rosemary and mint scent which instantly calms my racing heartbeat. “Does this feel wrong?”

I concentrate on the warmth of his palms, the way his body heats mine, his nearness bringing a measure of peace even if it also sends a skittering pulse throughout my body. “No.”

A presence at my left side has me trying to twist my face, my eyelids starting to open, but Hunter holds me still, his thumbs tracing my cheeks.

“Keep them closed,” he commands gently, a sharp gasp falling from my lips when a hand grasps my hip, hot lips pressing against the side of my neck, sucking and causing my nipples to pebble. “Does that feel wrong?”

“No,” I breathe out, butterflies taking flight in my stomach, a shifting feeling near my heart forcing me to inhale again and my nose fills with peppermint, lavender, and lemon, telling me Roman is pressed against me.

Another body heats my right side, lavender, bergamot, and patchouli filling my nostrils and soothing me even more. Rowan’s comforting scent is always a welcome surprise, a part of me expecting him to smell sharper, less soft. A sigh falls from my lips when his mouth meets my skin, sucking me inside its heat with a light graze of his teeth, sending goosebumps cascading all over my body.

“Does that feel wrong?” Hunter asks, his deep voice somehow more husky and toe-curling than it is usually.

I’m shaking my head before the word even leaves my lips. “No. It feels…” I trail off, fear causing my stomach to clench.

“Feels like what, Peaches?” he demands as the twins remain silent, their lips pressed against me but unmoving.

Swallowing past the worry in my throat, I keep my eyes closed as I let the truth spill free. “It feels more right than it should, considering I hardly know any of you and that I’m your prisoner.”

“Semantics, baby,” Roman purrs, his hot breath fanning against my skin and lighting my nerves on fire.

“You belong to us now, Iris. You are ours to protect, to keep safe, to look after and cherish,” Hunter tells me, my chest tightening as the sting of tears fills my closed lids. My father’s betrayal stirred up all those old feelings of unworthiness, of feeling like I’m not enough that stem from my mother’s abandonment of me as a child and Nikolai’s rejection, even if it was for my own safety. It compounded them, reinforcing this inadequacy that slithers inside my very bones. “We don’t need to know everything about you yet to know that you are ours. Only ours.”

I don’t miss the way he says they don’t know everything yet. I’ve no doubt they will, sure that they’ll discover all my secrets just as they have infiltrated my mind and taken over my body.

A sharp knock at the door has me jumping, my eyes flying wide and landing on Hunter. The guys don’t move, just wait.

“The Russians are here, boss,” a male voice says from the other side of the door, my heart thumping inside my chest. Nikolai is here, and I’m going to have to face him in just a few short moments.

“Rowan, go bring them up,” Hunter orders, his palms still cupping my face, his eyes not leaving mine. “Roman, make sure everything is in place.” I wonder what he means, my brows dipping even as I’m still caught in his stare. “You ready, Peaches?”

I smooth my features, glancing down at my harem pants and slouchy, wide-necked jumper, then back up before shrugging. “I guess he’s also seen me naked, so I don’t suppose it matters what I’m wearing.”

His nostrils flare, his grip tightening on my cheeks, but not to the point of pain. It’s just enough to show me what his large hands are capable of. Why does that make my core twitch?

“My name will be on that list very fucking soon,” he growls out, my fingers aching at my sides to grip him, but I keep them down, needing to gain back some control if I’m going to face my childhood crush again. Or maybe he’s now the man who I gave my virginity to? Or the one whose father technically owns me? Who the fuck knows. “Let’s go show him what he foolishly let go, shall we?”