Page 35 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

Dammit.

I did not just say that.

All four men are the banes of my existence, yet my inner guts crave them. I’m literally drawn to these men like a bad spell, and no one can reverse it.

Where the fuck do I start with Jagger?

Tall and handsome, too cliché?

Jagger’s chiseled jawline can almost cut glass, and those full, tempting, flirtatious lips possess their own magnetism, hinting at playfulness and passion. Wearing fitted denim jeans that hug his muscular thighs creates weird feelings that stir my core.

And those bright aquamarine jewels are eyeing me like a hawk from the moment I stepped inside my home. Those eyes have a dangerous glint that promises life will never be the same after having sex with him.

And I can guarantee that that statement rings true.

His body?

Fucking drool-worthy.

Jagger’s always had an athletically toned body, and as he runs a hand over his shaggy and always messy, light brown hair in thought as his eyes take me in, I get a damn good view of his rock hard torso as his black faded t-shirt raises up with his movement.

Words literally seize forming in my mind, staring at those abs. I need to look away before he notices my gawking at him, except my sight lands on another toxically beautiful man.

I’m going to hell.

Asher was always so damn good-looking, but ten years have made him into a man, one that gets my insides swirling and my panties wet with desire. Gone is that innocent-looking boyish charm, not that he had any as a lover, but it’s been replaced by six feet, four inches of dark honey skin with a body that’s so dangerously sexy I’m afraid I might burn if I reach outto touch him.

And I don’t know what he’s done to Storm, but that dog doesn’t usually like strangers, and he already sensed my wariness as soon as we stepped inside my home, and I had to guide him to Catalina to keep his distance from the men.

There’s a reason why I adopted this German shepherd who became not only my protector but also my best friend: he’s sharp and wary of unfamiliar people. Even in his old age, he’ll guard and keep watch over me, so whatever Asher’s done to relax my dog is something short of incredible.

But Asher’s always been the enigma of the group, the quiet and contemplative one. Over the years, I’ve painted him as the master manipulator who skillfully poses as an empathetic and compassionate individual to exploit the vulnerabilities of unsuspecting victims. On the surface, he appears warm-hearted, understanding, and genuinely concerned about the well-being of others.

Maybe it’s an over-exaggeration, but I’d rather picture him in this villainous way and be angry than suffer a broken heart. Asher was the first one in the group I fell in love with. So, if I had to pick one who nearly destroyed me, it was probably all of them, but he just took my psyche to the next level of unrelenting emotional pain.

It’s still hard to wrap my head around the fact that all four men are standing in front of me asking me something that never in my wildest and most vengeful dreams I could have imagined.

And now that they’ve said what they wanted to say and I’ve heard their explanation for which, as much as I want to believe them, I can’t.

The old Eden Rivers, the one that would have done anything for stardom, would believe them and dust whatever issues she had in the past under the carpet.

But returning to music isn’t even about them anymore. I will never feel safe if I go back; performing will always make me vulnerable, and I don’t know how I could ever find that spark again, knowing thatheis still out there, waiting in the shadows to do all the unspeakable things he already did to me.

I can’t go back there.Hestripped me of my human rights. There was a time when I wanted to delete myself.

What’s going on Eden?

Haze’s question rings a million answers in my mind. He and his brother always leaned towards that arrogant asshole attitude, but with me, they were always deliciously naughty and only had to whisper their sweet nothings into my ear while performing on stage, making me wet on the spot.

But now, I feel the distance between us. Whatever connection we once shared is long gone, and as much as they try to convince me we have it, I can’t find a trace of that unique link we had.

There’s a mix of hope and uncertainty on their faces as I watch them exchange glances, silent conversations passing between them.

“I want you to leave,” I say firmly. “Catalina is one step from calling 911.”

“Eden,” Jagger says, but his words die on his lips.

“You’re wrong about me,” I look at Haze. “I love music, but I’ll never share it with anyone again.”

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