Page 11 of Kissed By Shadows

“We own this floor, Princess,” Roman tells me, leading me along the balcony. Fuck’s sake, my filter must be really broken if I keep speaking out loud without realising it. “And those people will fuck off when we tell them to.”

Looking over the edge, we’re probably about halfway up, which explains the reason I’m dripping sweat and why my legs burn. The view is pretty spectacular, the twinkling lights of London spread out before us like stars in the night sky.

“Well, what have you found, brother?” a deep, smoky voice questions, and I glance away from the view to see an exact replica of Roman, even down to the same black T-shirt and fitted black jeans. This must be Rowan, Roman’s twin, and I’m notsure my poor brain can cope with the duplicate hotness that is before me.

“A little lost princess looking for a shining knight,” Roman answers in what I feel like is his signature teasing tone, and I glance at him, narrowing my eyes.

“Looks more like a little lost lamb in a den of wolves to me,” Rowan replies, his dark gaze sliding over me in a way that leaves me breathless and questioning whether I’m a feminist at all. There’s an air of something unsettling about Rowan Kent, like some part of me knows that he’s a wolf, one breath away from tearing out my throat.

“Are you going to take me to see Hunter or not?” I snap, proud of the way my voice doesn’t shake. I guess being sold to the Russian Bratva, losing my virginity, and then being dumped on the doorstep of one of London’s most prominent gangs is enough to give anyone a backbone. Or a death wish. The jury is still out on that one.

“Oooo, she’s a feisty one. I like it,” Rowan purrs, and I grind my jaw.

“I don’t give a shit what you like, Tweedle Dum.” My patience finally snaps and I tear my hand out of Roman’s grip. I just want to curl up somewhere and lick my wounds, try to work out what my next steps are. There’s only so much shit that can happen to you before enough is enough and you take matters into your own hands. “Just take me to your boss.”

Rowan smirks before stepping right into my personal space, but I hold my ground just like I did with his brother out on the street.

“It’s cute that you’re trying to top from the bottom,” he whispers, my breath stilling inside my chest as a wave of lust crashes over me. Jesus. Not the fucking time, Evangeline.

“She’d look so pretty tied up while begging for our forgiveness for being so bratty,” Roman says in a husky whisper,circling around me and then pressing up against my back until I’m stuck in the eye of their storm. I shiver, my blood pulsing within my body, leaving my nerves tingling.

“So pretty tied up and bleeding,” Rowan sings from in front of me, and fuck me, Jesus, if I don’t get wetter than an English summer at that, even as my eyes widen and my lips part. “Would you like that, Little Lamb? Would you be a sacrifice on my altar? I think you would.”

I’m frozen, unable to move a muscle as his hand comes up, his knuckles stroking down my cheek in such a tender gesture that my body sways towards the touch even as my mind screams at me to run far, far away.

“Roman! Rowan!” A deep yell breaks the spell the twins have placed on me, my body taking in a huge, juddering inhale.

“Time to meet your new master, Princess,” Roman murmurs from behind me before they each take a hand, pulling me deeper into the party until we stop in front of the leader of the Shadows himself, Hunter Anderson.

He’s lounging on what looks suspiciously like a throne, one thick thigh thrown over the arm as he looks up with startling green eyes that swirl with a darkness that leaves me shuddering. He’s just as gorgeous as I remember, his blond hair lighter than the twins’, cut short on the sides but longer on the top, and flopping over one eye in a way that has my fingers twitching to move it aside. He’s also wearing a black T-shirt, no jumper, and it practically bursts at the seams as he’s just that stacked. Tattoos cover one of his arms in a sleeve that flows and eddies with images that I want to study to discover their meaning.

“What brings you to my home, Iris?” His voice is deep, cavernous like a cave that you enter but never leave. I have to swallow past a lump in my throat, which I’m not sure is there because of fear…or something else entirely.

“I need your protection,” I state, and he sits up, placing both feet on the concrete floor before leaning forward. The rest of the chatter around us dies down, every eye on me, and my skin itches at the attention.

“And why is that, Peaches?” he asks, and something about the nickname has my thighs clenching. Fucking inappropriate, greedy vajayjay. Taking another deep inhale, aware of the twins pressing up against either side of me, I lock down the hurt and betrayal that I will have to tell these complete strangers in order to gain the help I need.

“My father sold me to the Russian Bratva.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“ON YOUR KNEES” BY EX HABIT

IRIS

Idon’t miss the twins hissing a breath, their fingers tightening in my grip. My own curls around theirs, taking the comfort that I’m sure they’re unconsciously offering.

Hunter’s jaw hardens, his nostrils flaring as he looks seconds away from exploding, and it takes all my willpower not to flinch away at the violence that emanates off him like a perfume.

“He. Did. What?” he bites out, his body still and yet thrumming with a dark energy that should be terrifying. A part of me is scared, my heart hammering inside my chest at the threat before me, but another part of me purrs and preens at the strong man who seems to be angry on my behalf. He’s a vengeful angel ready to seek justice for the wrongs that have befallen me. Or maybe I’m projecting all those dark romance books I enjoy reading so much.

“I don’t know all the details. I came home this afternoon to find Sergi Petrov and his men in my house and an apology text from my dad.” My lip curls at the reminder that my dad apologised for fucking selling me via text. That somehow, if he’d at least done it in person, it would have been better, maybe. I push thoughts of him and what I’d say to him if I ever spoke to him again to one side, needing to focus on gaining Hunter’s protection.

“Wait, you’ve been with them since this afternoon?” Roman hisses from beside me, and my cheeks flush at the memory of Nikolai and what we got up to. “Are you okay, Princess?”

I twist my face to look at him, noting that his brows are deeply wrinkled, the muscles of his neck strained and corded as his dark eyes trace over me as if he’s searching for any injuries. Surely he’s not concerned? We literally only just met, although he did make that comment about knowing all about me, which I probably should have questioned before now.

“I’m fine, they didn’t hurt me,” I answer quietly, ignoring my curiosity and once again focusing on the task at hand. I can question them more once I’m safe. My cheeks heat more when a pulse of pain flares from my core. Well, Nik didn’t hurt me in any way that wasn’t also enjoyable, but I’m not about to tell them about losing my V-card.

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