Page 8 of In the Shadows

The tattooed man bundles one of my hands in his in an oddly comforting gesture and brings a cup of water with a straw to my lips. “Have some water before the drugs kick in. The doctor said it will knock you out, and I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

I’ve met a lot of scary men over the years, but this man may be the scariest. Except I’m not afraid of him. I’m not afraid of either of them.

The needle pricks into my skin, and I wince at the same time the tattooed man tightens his hold on my hand, giving me something else to focus on. “I’ve got you, Little Lamb.”

Why does he keep calling me that? And why does it make my skin heat each time the two little words fall from his lips?

“All done,” the other man says, but the scarred one doesn’t pull away. He keeps my hand bundled in his as I drink the rest of the water in the glass. Once I’ve drained it, he pulls it away from my lips and gives me a small smile, but it seems almost unnatural for him.

There are so many questions whirling around in my mind, but the combination of drugs and pain makes it difficult to settle on any one to ask.

The two of them share a look across the bed, but I can’t work out what it is about the silent conversation they share that makes uneasiness settle in my belly. Every emotion that washes over my body is a contradiction to the last, and I don’t know how to pull myself from that reality.

“Who are you?” I croak. It seems like as good a question as any, and at least if they answer that, I’ll be able to stop calling them the scarred one and the handsome one in my head.

The one holding my hand smirks, and a dark chuckle erupts in his chest. “Oh, Little Lamb.”

My brows tug together as I look at the other man, and his eyes are just as dark. Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like the answer to this question?

“Perhaps you’ve heard of us, love.” He pauses, and my stomach drops. “We’re the Syndicate of the Legion.”

They could have replied with just about anything and I would have been able to swallow it. But that…what they’ve just told me, it’s pretty much the worst-case scenario, because as soon as they figure out who I am, they’re going to hand me over to Charles. There’s no way to escape the Princes of the Underworld, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them from figuring out who I am.

Dread washes over me at the same time the grogginess from the morphine hits me, and my eyes droop shut. I need to figure out a way out of here. I need to escape. But instead of doing either of those things, I allow my eyes to flutter closed. I guess I’ll have to deal with it once the drugs wear off.

CHAPTER SIX

BISHOP

The panic that crosses her bruised face has my cock hardening behind the zipper of my pants. I get off on fear. You’d never think it by looking at me, especially not beside the other guys, but it’s my thing, and something I don’t get to enjoy nearly enough.

Kovu likes to dish out pain.

Kaos likes hate fucking.

And my father, his proclivities are a dark combination of the three of us.

We’ve shared before. More times than I can count, if I’m honest, but it’s been a while. After she died, none of us have had much interest in women, and certainly not in sharing one. It brings too much back to the surface, and men like us shouldn’t feel those kinds of emotions.

But I haven’t missed the way Kovu looks at our little guest. There’s more interest in his eyes than there ever was with her, or any other woman we’ve had. And if I’m honest, I share that interest. Like I said, it’s not uncommon for us to be interested in the same women. But not like this. Never so immediately.

In the past, one of us has found a woman we think may be able to handle our unusual tastes and being shared by four men, and we set up a meeting with each of us. But usually, it takes me some time to see it. Even the one woman I brought into the fold, I had reservations about. But the woman laid out in front of us, there’s no hesitation, no questions. Just pure obsession from the moment I saw her. And that’s a problem, especially because my father has already said she needs to go once she’s healed, and I already can’t see Kovu or I getting on board with that.

Her eyes drift closed as the morphine kicks in, and as soon as it’s gone, I miss the soft gray. I should send her away right now. We have plenty of money, I could have a nurse look after her for the next few weeks, leave her enough cash for her to get her life set up, and get her away from whoever hurt her. But that’s not an option, and I think even if I could do it, Kovu would have my fucking head for taking away his new plaything.

Except he’s not looking at her like he has the others. Like she’s an expendable piece of meat. He’s been obsessed with many women over the years, but he’s never looked at them like this, and certainly not after only speaking a few words to them.

No. Kovu would slit my fucking throat for even considering the idea of sending her away. We’ll have to work out a way to get around my father and to broach the subject with Kaos, but we’ll make it work somehow.

“I can stay with her if you have work to do.” He breaks the silence that descended upon us as soon as her eyes drifted closed. I wish we had asked for her name. At least if we knew who she was, we would be able to get some background on her, work out who the fuck beat her, and make them pay for daring to touch something that belongs to us. It’s irrelevant that when she was hurt, I didn’t even know she existed, they still deserve to die for touching her.

I shake my head. “I’m staying.”

He sighs and drags the chair by the window to the edge of the bed before returning his hand to hers. Kovu doesn’t care much for human touch. With every woman we’ve brought home, he’s been obsessed, sure, but he never initiates touch, and if he can avoid it, he always will. Just further proof our houseguest isn’t going anywhere. “I’m not going to hurt her, Bishop.”

“I never said you would.”

“You were thinking it, though.”

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