Page 58 of Kissed By Shadows

“You look fucking stunning,” he says, stalking over to me like a predator, and I’m frozen to the spot as he approaches. He’s dressed in black jeans, boots, and a vest that has a neon skull printed on it, the armholes ridiculously big so all his inked muscles are on display. “I won’t have trouble watching you all night, though I may not be able to stop touching you.” When he reaches me, he runs his finger down my exposed back, and my nipples pebble under my dress.

“That’s the fucking issue, every fucker in there will want to touch her, and I’ll have to kill them all for even thinking about it,” Hunter seethes, and I giggle, his possessiveness not scaring me in the least. It’s sweet, and so what if it’s a little violent,there’s something about the caveman attitude that’s really doing it for me.

Turning around fully, I sidestep Roman, trailing my nails down his arm as I pass. He shivers and I grin, but my sights are set on Hunt, who almost vibrates with the rage he’s keeping in check. When I’m standing before him, I go up on my tiptoes, placing my hand on his hard chest to steady myself as I lean in, my lips next to his ear. His hand immediately comes to my waist, a deep rumble sounding in his chest as he makes contact with my skin. My temperature rises at his touch, Evangeline panting for more.

“But you’ll be the only ones allowed to touch me. They may fantasise about getting their hands on me, but they’ll know that I belong to you, that I’m yours, and they can look all they want to, but I’ll only have eyes for you,” I whisper, his breaths rasping out harshly as his body thrums with coiled energy.

“Fine,” he grits out, his other hand coming up to tangle in my hair. He uses his grip to pull me back, and the sharp sting has me gasping as heat fills my core. “But you don’t leave my side, understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I agree, and his pupils expand, the black swallowing the green. Then he’s pulling me towards him and my eyes close, ready for his lips to take mine. He bypasses them though, his hot mouth landing on my neck and sucking hard, causing my knees to almost buckle at the shot of pleasure that runs through me.

I moan as he doesn’t let up, sucking almost to the point of pain, and I know there will be a huge mark for everyone to see. He’s claiming me and I am fucking here for it.

He releases me slowly, peppering my neck with kisses that literally leave me swooning.

“Mine,” he growls before he releases me. “Now eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I repeat in a breathy whisper, because I love seeing his nostrils flare and eyes go molten every time I call him that.

Stepping away from me, he pulls out the chair that I sat in yesterday before quickly claiming the one to my right. He doesn’t even pretend to give me a choice, just picks up my fork and puts a small amount of noodles on it, blowing on them, because of course they are still steaming hot. I hold his gaze as he feeds me, and maybe I should mind, because I’m not a child and can feed myself, but I don’t. I actually kind of love the fact that he feeds me, that he cares for my basic needs, and if the way his chest expands and his shoulders lose their tension is any indication, he loves it too.

“You look beautiful, Little Lamb,” Rowan compliments from my left, and I turn to stare at him. He, too, is wearing a vest with a neon skull on it, but whereas Roman’s is shades of pink and purple, Rowan’s is in greens and blues.

“Thank you. You look pretty hot yourself, Roo,” I tell him, and his eyes widen in delight at the nickname.

“I got you something,” he says, reaching beside him and pulling out a shoe box. The outside is a colourful pattern and has the words Irregular Choice in script across them. “Willow says this is her friend’s favourite brand, and I thought that you might not have anything that you could wear tonight.”

My gaze flits up to him to find an unsure look in his eyes, his cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” I tell him sincerely, surprised that he even thought about it ahead of time and sorted the problem. “I don’t have any shoes, just my boots.”

I’m not surprised that they’re my size, because Rowan is the most observant of the three Shadows. He’s always watching, which is actually kind of comforting. Opening the box, tissue paper rustles as I unwrap one of the shoes and then gasp. It’s astunning, silver glitter heel with a matching bow on the toe and a chunky heel, so it will be comfortable to wear all night.

“They’re…” I trail off as he takes the shoe from me, then gets on one knee. I twist in my chair as he grabs my foot, lifting my leg and helping me to put the shoe on. Then he unwraps the second one and puts that on my other foot, all while I stare at him, my heart pounding inside my chest. It’s somehow more intimate than I would have thought, especially as his hands wrap around my ankle and he looks up at me from his kneeling position.

“Did you know that in the past, giving a woman shoes was akin to a marriage proposal?” he asks, and I swear my heart skips a beat. Part of me is terrified at what he means, what he’s implying, but another part of me is ready to give him, to give them all, my forever. “There’s a reason why the Prince gave Cinderella her glass slipper.”

“Are you asking me to marry you, Rowan?” I breathe out, tension in the room as I hold his stare. His lips twitch, which is practically a full-blown smile for Rowan.

“You can’t just marry me, the others would feel left out,” he answers, which isn’t exactly saying that he’s not making some kind of declaration with these beautiful shoes. Grumbles from either side of us confirm his theory, and his lips twitch again as he gets up and sits back down.

“When did you get so much fucking game?” Roman hisses at his brother, and I laugh at the incredulous look on his face.

“Worried about competing, brother?” Rowan teases, and I giggle as I spin back to Hunt, who holds another forkful of food out for me to take.

We finish the meal with me peppering them with questions about the club in between Hunt feeding me my dinner. I’ve never really been clubbing because I was too young before I left for finishing school, and I didn’t get much of a chance when Ireturned, but I’ve heard about Depravity. It’s a very exclusive, highly sought-after club, supposedly with queues stretching along the street to get in.

Pride shines in their eyes as they tell me all about it, about the beautiful male and female dancers in cages high above the dancefloor and about the world-class cocktail makers who make the best and most innovative drinks in London. There are also some VIP areas upstairs that are for those who’d prefer to spend the evening playing poker while being served the most expensive liquor available and smoking Cuban cigars. DJs come from around the world to do a set, and they’ll often have several big names in one night, but they also open it up to aspiring DJs who always gets a name for themselves afterwards.

Excited butterflies flutter around my stomach as we leave the estate. I am finally leaving the estate, and to go clubbing with three hot men no less. A black sedan is idling next to the pavement. I frown at it, pulling the short, faux fur jacket I also found in Willow’s wardrobe closer around me when a gust of freezing wind whips around us. Hunt walks around to the passenger side while Roman opens the back door, and I can make out the burly figure of a driver in the driver’s seat.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Ro asks, and I chuckle at yet another nickname.

“I just kind of imagined you guys would have something…I dunno, more flashy, I guess,” I tell him, getting in after he does and not caring if I flash Rowan. I obviously do, because as I’m bent over, a loud crack fills the car and I yelp as pain flashes across my arse. “What the fuck, Row?!”

I have to sit down in order to glare at him, but he just arches a brow at me. “Brats get spanked,” he tells me, and my cheeks heat as I shuffle on the leather seat, my arse cheeks smarting.

“I wasn’t being a brat,” I complain, my tone sullen and very brat-like. He just stares at me, taking the seat belt that Romanpasses him and pulling it across my body to click it in place. The car is deliciously warm, and so are the seats, the inside pretty luxurious and high spec.

“You definitely were being a brat,” Roman whispers in my ear, taking my hand in his and weaving our fingers together.

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