Kissed by Shadows: Chapter 7

What must be two or three hours later, I’m still wide awake, my mind replaying everything that happened since I returned home and discovered my life had changed beyond recognition.

With a huff of annoyance, I throw back the covers and get out of the admittedly comfy bed. I’d heard the guys moving around a while back, the noise quieting down about an hour ago according to the small retro-looking alarm clock on the bedside drawers.

The house is warm as I pad across the plush rug, my toes sinking into its softness when I walk across to the door and crack it open. Pausing, I strain to listen, but there’s no noise, so taking a deep breath, I open it wider and step out into the hallway. The wooden floor is warm beneath my feet—I fucking love underfloor heating.

Making my way down the short hallway and through the cinema room, I decide to get a drink from the kitchen, or maybe something to eat because the last meal I had was lunch. As if my stomach could hear my thoughts, a loud growl fills the quiet space, and I place my hand over it as though someone might hear.

“Hungry, Peaches?”

“Fuck!” I whisper-yell, jumping out of my fucking skin and spinning around to find Hunter sitting at one of the desks in complete darkness. “What kind of crazy person sits in the dark at night? You scared the shit out of me.”

“When did you last eat?” he asks, ignoring my comment about being a crazy person. Then he gets up and comes towards me like a shadow. Meanwhile, my heart fucking races inside my chest, picking up tempo as his dark form stalks towards me. I guess it’s fitting, him being the leader of the Shadowmen and stalking around the place like a malevolent shade.

“Um, l–lunch, I t–think,” I stammer out, licking my dry lips when he comes to stand right in front of me. I can’t help experiencing the phantom taste of him against my tongue, even though I used the toothbrush Nikolai packed for me before bed. So I know that it’s all in my head. Even so, my nipples harden under Roman’s T-shirt, not having got the memo that we do not just throw ourselves at every hot, dangerous man who we come across. We are a good girl.

“You are a very good girl, Peaches,” Hunter purrs, and my wide gaze snaps towards him as my thighs clench and fire races along my veins. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

I must be in some kind of lust stupor—who calls a practical stranger a good girl?—because when he reaches out to take my hand in his much bigger one, I don’t protest. Nope. Instead, I clasp my fingers in his, even though he made me get on my knees in front of his seconds and suck him off just so I could be safe. What kind of fucked-up Stockholm syndrome is this?

He gives my hand a squeeze, setting butterflies fluttering in my stomach, before he leads me back through the office space and back into the living room, then through the door into the kitchen. I’m going to need a fucking map of this place.

He flicks a switch, and the space is flooded with low light, bright enough to have me squinting as I adjust after the darkness of the flat, but not enough to completely blind me.

“What would you like to eat?” he asks, leading me over to the island and pulling out one of the high chairs. He keeps hold of my hand, helping me up onto it, and it’s so gentlemanly that my lips twitch, a smile wanting to break free. “What’s so funny, Peaches?”

“I didn’t know gangsters could be gentlemen too.” The words blurt from my lips before I can stop them, my free hand flying up to cover them.

One side of his lips quirk, and he tugs my hand up, placing his soft lips to my skin and pressing a kiss there. My lips part, my skin flushing at the gesture, especially as his deep green eyes lock on mine.

“Gangsters can be a great many things, Iris,” he whispers in that sinfully deep voice of his, my entire body shuddering at the sensual sound and the promises in it. Straightening up, he drops my hand, and my other immediately cradles it, my thumb tracing over where his lips brushed against me like a brand. “So, what’ll it be?”

I shift in my seat, thinking. “I’ve always wanted to try a grilled cheese sandwich,” I confess softly, my cheeks heating at the admission. I’ve read a lot about them, but we never really went anywhere that served them, my father preferring places with Michelin stars.

His eyebrows hike up. “You’ve never had grilled cheese?” My cheeks burn, embarrassment making my tone sharp when I reply.

“It’s not that unusual, but just forget it,” I snap, going to get off the chair, but he closes the small gap that was between us, his large hands gripping my hips and stopping me from leaving.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Peaches,” he growls out, but with an edge of softness that is reinforced when his thumbs trace patterns into the very bare skin that he’s holding. I swallow, my skin hypersensitive to every brush, his hands just above the waistband of my knickers. “I just thought…” he trails off.

“Thought what, Hunter?” I whisper, watching his Adam’s apple bob when I say his name. A sudden image of me screaming it like I did Nikolai’s as Hunter pounds into me leaves me a little lightheaded, and I sway slightly towards him.

“Thought that posh people had everything,” he answers, a flush creeping up his neck from under his black T-shirt and making the apple of his cheeks glow.

My eyelids flutter, the heat from a moment before dissipating like opening the front door in winter. “Not everything.”

My mind flashes back to a beautiful face, the scent of parma violets, and a laugh that lit up the entire room. I was five when my mum left us, too young to understand why she didn’t want me anymore or why I wasn’t good enough for her to stay. I’ve had little to no contact with her since, and last I heard, she was living her best life in Bali with some young pilot.

It makes my father’s recent actions sting all the more, his rejection—for that is fundamentally what it was—hurts because she sowed the seed that I’m somehow so flawed that I’ll never be enough.

“Hey, don’t cry, Peaches.” Hunter’s voice breaks through my swirling thoughts, and blinking, I suddenly feel the moisture on my cheeks, one of his hands leaving my hips so his thumb can brush the tear away. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It wasn’t you,” I murmur, my voice sounding as broken as I feel inside. I look up at him, at his green eyes that I want to drown in, and the way his brows are furrowed in concern. “Why am I so easy to leave, Hunter? Why can I never be enough?” The words tumble from my lips, bypassing the common sense that tells me this virtual stranger doesn’t give a shit about my problems.

His jaw clenches, his large palm cupping my cheek as he stares into my eyes. “You are more than enough. Shit, the way you helped Willow? Most people wouldn’t have done that for a friend let alone some girl they found wandering the streets.”

“Then why does everyone leave?” The last part is a murmured sob, more tears falling, as if now the floodgates are opened, there’ll be no closing them. It’s not just my mother leaving me as a child, or the fact my father sold me off like an old coat. Nikolai left me too, and even though he says it’s for my own good, to keep me safe, I can’t help feeling the sting that he didn’t fight for me.

“Oh, baby,” he hushes, pulling me against his chest and wrapping his huge arms around me in an embrace that shouldn’t feel so much like home. My body responds immediately, my fingers gripping his shirt tightly as tears seep into the cotton fabric. “That’s a them problem, not a you issue. They’re fucking insane for letting you out of their sights for a moment. You’re more special than you know, Iris. You fucking glow, and I don’t just give anyone my protection.”

I scoff against his chest, breathing in his sharp rosemary and mint scent that soothes my aching soul in a way I probably should be worried about. But give a girl a break, sometimes we have to take our comfort where we can.

“It hardly came out of the generosity of your kind heart, Hunter,” I say, my sarcasm clearly amusing the fuck out of him as his chest huffs with a laugh.

“Best fucking blow job of my life, Peaches, and I won’t apologise for taking it.” My hormones are clearly all over the place because I should really be pissed at his words, but instead, Evangeline just purrs for the man, waving herself at him like some kind of bitch in heat. “And I think you liked being forced and liked having the choice taken from you.”

I stiffen. “Do you know how fucked-up that sounds?”

“It’s just kink, Peaches. We all have them,” he tells me, his large palm rubbing up and down my back in a way that has me sinking into him more, my fingers loosening their tight grip to splay against his firm pecs.

“Let me guess, yours is taking control?” I ask softly, my thighs going to clench only to find him in between them. How did I not notice that until now? Heat races from my core, which I now feel pressed up against his jeans, our bodies only separated by three layers of cloth.

“Among others but yes, I like to take control,” he tells me in a husky tone, the air around us shifting to something hot and almost stifling, leaving me desperate for something I’m not ready to admit.

“I don’t understand,” I ask, needing to shift the focus but also confused and wanting answers. “Given everything that’s just happened to me, why would I enjoy having my control taken from me?”

He pulls back but keeps his arms around me, one hand coming up to brush some hair away from my face. His fingers linger against my cheek, a gesture so tender it stills the breath in my lungs. “Sometimes, when everything else is out of control, choosing to give up control is all you have. Giving someone else responsibility over you, allowing them to take over so you can just be, trusting them to help you become the best version of yourself, it’s the purest type of freedom.”

His green eyes are captivating, drilling down into my very soul as his words sink into me. A part of me settles at them, feeling the truth in my very bones.

“Let’s make you that grilled cheese,” he says gently, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead, the place his lips meet tingling like he just ran an electric wire over it.

I sink back into my seat as he steps away, feeling a little chilled now that I’m not wrapped up in his arms. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear the lust haze that seems to have descended, I reach over and grab an apple from the fruit bowl, just so my hands has something to do as I roll it between them.

“So, um, what’s the plan?” I hedge, looking up at him as he lays out some ingredients on the island opposite me. Bread, cheese, butter, and a grater.

“Plan?” he questions while picking up the cheese and grater, and I get lost in the way his arm muscles bunch as he grates the cheese onto a chopping board. “What plan?”

“Me?” I reply, my gaze snapping up to his to find him staring at me, one eyebrow raised. “And, um, you know, the Russian situation?”

One side of his plush lips lift at my woefully inadequate description. “The Russian situation?” he parrots, chuckling under his breath when he glances at me, finding my glare on him. “For now, you’ll stay here until we can get the lay of the land.”

“Okay, that seems doable. I’ll need to go out and get some more bits—” He cuts me off with a wave of the grater.

“You misunderstood me, Peaches,” he interrupts, not even pausing in compiling my sandwich. “You’re not to leave this flat, under any circumstances. Myself or one of the twins will be here with you at all times, and I’ll have other Shadows outside and around the estate, but you will not step foot outside that door.” He gestures in the direction of the front door while still focused on making my food.

I stare at him, my mouth flapping like a fucking fish as he takes a pan and puts it on the hob behind him. “You–you can’t keep me trapped here like a–a prisoner!” I hiss, my entire body taut as if preparing for flight.

He pauses, the sound of butter sizzling in the pan filling the room, then the delicious smell of the sandwich being fried—I don’t even care if it’s not technically grilled. It smells that good—making my stomach growl again. Slowly, like a lion stalking his prey, he turns and comes back around to where I’m sitting. I hold his stare, having to tilt my head back just to maintain eye contact.

“You will obey me, Iris. That was the price you paid. You gave me your obedience like every member of my crew has done before you.” He exudes power. It rolls off him in an intoxicating wave that threatens to have me on my knees again while begging for his forgiveness, but I am sick of being ruled by men, being sold by them, given away by them, and being told what to do.

“And if I don’t?” A heady mixture of anger and lust leaves me tingling, my pulse racing and my muscles tense.

“Then I’ll tie you the fuck down,” he answers without missing a beat, his gaze hard, even as heat makes his eyes flare as brightly as green fire.

He gives me no chance to answer as he steps away, taking away his magnetic energy with him and leaving me fighting to stay upright. With a nod, he turns his back on me, going back to making my sandwich as if that standoff didn’t happen.

More fool him. I may be smart enough to realise that for the moment I need him and his protection, no matter the cost, but at some point, I’ll be able to get away. I’ll be free of this debt that isn’t even mine and then I’ll run so fucking far no one will ever find me again.