Page 16 of Kissed By Shadows

My eyes take in the soft cream walls, the bright Persian rugs that cover the floor, and the bed full of colourful cushions.

“This was Willow’s room,” Rowan states as I look around, immediately feeling at ease in this space.

“I knew she had good taste,” I comment, letting go of both their hands to take off my boots and walk around the space. It’s pretty big, clearly each bedroom has been extended too. Maybe two have been knocked together? There’s a door on one side, which I’m assuming is a bathroom, and all the furniture is mismatched, but it works.

“Her drawers and wardrobe are empty if you want to put your stuff there,” Roman invites, Rowan watching me as he places my bag on the floor.

“I’m not sure they’ll be much to fill it with,” I murmur, feeling a tightness in my chest at everything I’ve left behind as I glance down at the small bag. It’s silly, they’re just clothes, but they’re what made me…well, me. “I don’t know if I even have any pyjamas.”

“That issue can be solved right now, Princess.” I glance back as Roman grabs the hem of his T-shirt and tugs it over his head.

My lips part, my heartbeat loud in my ears as he stalks over to me, his inked-up torso on full display. His body is a work of art, each tattoo making up a patchwork of images on his defined pecs and abs that leave me speechless. They’re similar to Nikolai’s in that way, each one a single design, but the style is different. Unlike Nik’s, these are maybe a bit more sophisticated, a bit more detailed. My favourite is a butterfly just under the dip of his throat, the word ‘Devil’ inscribed underneath it and what I think might be lorel branches either side of it, but I honestly could spend hours studying each one.

He stops in front of me, his hand out, and offering me the T-shirt that he was just wearing. His lips are tugged up in a smirk, his eyes heated as he looks at me expectantly. Swallowing, I take the garment and almost moan at the warmth that still clings to the fibres.

“Thank you, Roman,” I manage to choke out, and his nostrils flare when I take the shirt from his hands.

“I like hearing my name from those pretty lips, Princess,” he replies, my cheeks heating when I remember what my lips were doing not that long ago, wrapped around Hunter’s large cock. “Good night, sweetheart.”

I still as he leans in, placing a soft kiss on my cheek, my eyelids fluttering at his nearness.

“Good night.” It’s barely a whisper, but then his equally inked-up back walks back out of the door.

“I’ve a feeling this is going to be so much fun, Little Lamb,” Rowan states, stepping towards me and stopping when my clenched hands brush his chest. I crane my neck back to look at him—tall bastard—and the amusement in his eyes makes them sparkle and shine. There’s a dark promise in his tone, something that has me wanting to run and be caught all at once. Rowanleaves me feeling deliciously on edge, like ice that’s run along hot skin. Like walking along the edge of a cliff in a strong wind, wondering if this next gust is going to be the one to throw you over the edge.

“What do you mean?”

He just smiles, the edge of darkness in his eyes causing tingles to erupt across my skin, then leans down and places a kiss on my other cheek. Turning on his heels, he stalks out of the room, taking his almost unsettling presence with him as he shuts the door behind him.

My entire body slumps as all the tension drains out of me, but I can’t help feeling a little bereft at finally being alone. It’s like I really am a lost little sheep, waiting for her masters to return. Scoffing at myself, I shake my head and make my way to the bed, dropping the T-shirt onto the soft blanket and then sitting down on the end.

Sleep. I need sleep, and things will look different in the morning. That’s what Dad used to say. I have to close my eyes and breathe through the sharp spike of pain that seems to accompany any thoughts of my father. My stomach churns at the thought of him running for his life, but there’s also a hollow feeling when I think of the fact that he didn’t take me with him. How can I be worried about someone who broke my heart? Or betrayed me? I’m not sure there will ever be a way to forgive him.

With a sigh, I take my coat and clothes off, draping them over the end of the bed before slipping Roman’s T-shirt on with just my knickers. It’s still a little warm, his scent washing over me in a calming wave that leaves me wanting to snuggle into the garment and never take it off. Then I pull back the covers and slip under them, leaving the lights on.

“It’ll all look better after I have some rest.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“WAR OF HEARTS” BY RUELLE

IRIS

What must be two or three hours later, I’m still wide awake, my mind replaying everything that happened since I returned home and discovered my life had changed beyond recognition.

With a huff of annoyance, I throw back the covers and get out of the admittedly comfy bed. I’d heard the guys moving around a while back, the noise quieting down about an hour ago according to the small retro-looking alarm clock on the bedside drawers.

The house is warm as I pad across the plush rug, my toes sinking into its softness when I walk across to the door and crack it open. Pausing, I strain to listen, but there’s no noise, so taking a deep breath, I open it wider and step out into the hallway. The wooden floor is warm beneath my feet—I fucking love underfloor heating.

Making my way down the short hallway and through the cinema room, I decide to get a drink from the kitchen, or maybe something to eat because the last meal I had was lunch. As if my stomach could hear my thoughts, a loud growl fills the quiet space, and I place my hand over it as though someone might hear.

“Hungry, Peaches?”

“Fuck!” I whisper-yell, jumping out of my fucking skin and spinning around to find Hunter sitting at one of the desks in complete darkness. “What kind of crazy person sits in the dark at night? You scared the shit out of me.”

“When did you last eat?” he asks, ignoring my comment about being a crazy person. Then he gets up and comes towards me like a shadow. Meanwhile, my heart fucking races inside my chest, picking up tempo as his dark form stalks towards me. I guess it’s fitting, him being the leader of the Shadowmen and stalking around the place like a malevolent shade.

“Um, l–lunch, I t–think,” I stammer out, licking my dry lips when he comes to stand right in front of me. I can’t help experiencing the phantom taste of him against my tongue, even though I used the toothbrush Nikolai packed for me before bed. So I know that it’s all in my head. Even so, my nipples harden under Roman’s T-shirt, not having got the memo that we do not just throw ourselves at every hot, dangerous man who we come across. We are a good girl.

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