Page 18 of Kissed By Shadows

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 canjust 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 andaround 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 thatisn’t even mine and then I’ll run so fucking far no one will ever find me again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“WALK THROUGH THE FIRE” BY ZAYDE WØLF, RUELLE

NIKOLAI

“How the fuck did she get away, Nikolai?” my father seethes, his harsh tone cracking across me like the whip he used to use on me in my training. “Were you so cunt drunk that you just didn’t notice?”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” I reply, my jaw wound tight like a coiled spring as I stand before him, head bowed as a sign of respect, my hands clasped in front of me.

He sighs, the sound making the hair on my arms stand on end. “It’s not good enough, Nikolai, and you’ll be the one to get her back. I hear she’s with the Shadows, you’ll go there tonight and convince them to give back what belongs to us.”

Ice runs through my veins, knowing that I will be treading a very thin line. I won’t convince them of anything, but I need to be able to appear like I’m at least trying.

The door to my father’s study opens, the heavy sound of booted footsteps entering behind me. I don’t flinch or look to see who it is. Two sets by the sounds of it. Probably Igor and Vlad, my father’s right-hand men.

“And now for your correction, something I thought we’d put behind us,” Sergi Petrov muses, and I glance up to watch him take a gun from his desk drawer, clicking off the safety before pointing it at my head. “You will take your punishment like a man, no fighting back, or you know the consequences.” He’d shoot me. He’s always made it clear that although I may be his son and heir, I was also expendable if I didn’t live up to his high expectations. “Igor, Vlad, you may begin.”

The first hit has my head snapping to the side, copper filling my mouth. I don’t dare spit it out, instead swallowing my own blood as blow after blow brings me to my knees. I don’t go down any further, knowing that it’ll only be worse for me if I go lower than my knees. My father may enjoy my submission, but he loathes any kind of weakness. I don’t defend myself, knowing from bitter experience that will only prolong my punishment.

The pains of the blows soon turn into a throbbing agony that fills my entire body, and only the thought that this is for her, the other half of my soul, keeps me from passing out completely. I’ve lost count of how many times her light has guided me through these beatings, her bright smile keeping me conscious. I picture all the letters she sent, her complaints of the other society girls who she used to say were nothing but vapid bitches. Reading about her normal life was my only solace.

“That’s enough,” Sergi says, his voice sounding tinny and as if from a distance as my ears ring. “Get up and get out of my sight.”

Taking a deep breath, wincing when my ribs flare—probably at least bruised—I unsteadily get to my feet, wavering slightly. Placing one foot in front of the other, I limp out of his office, myback ramrod straight and my mask firmly in place so none of his men see my pain.

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