Page 52 of Kissed By Shadows

A shiver falls over me, like someone just passed over my gravestone as one of the girls at school used to claim.

“It’s just a precaution, we will always be there to keep you safe, Princess,” Roman tells me, coming up and taking my cold face in his. “We made a promise not to let you out of our sight, but sometimes we have to deal with shit, and I for one would feel better knowing that you were taken care of.”

“O–okay,” I agree, trying to draw the warmth from his palms into my soul. I’ve never been in danger before, never had to fear for my life. I’ve also never had to worry about more than what I might like to wear to this party or what I wanted to do after finishing school, but now I’m in this dark world where people buy others for god knows what, and I may have to fight them off.

Pulling my big girl panties up, I decide, fuck it. If this is my life now, I’m going to make the best of it. I don’t want to be the weak link that the guys always have to worry about, and it would be nice to know that I can hold my own if it comes down to it. Plus, it will definitely be fun to get all down and dirty with each of them.

He dips down and presses a sweet kiss to my lips, catcalls and whistles causing me to blush, the heat from my reaction dispelling the coldness of moments before.

“Go get that fine arse in some tight gear, we’ll be waiting,” Roman orders, and I yelp as he slaps my arse when I turn to do his bidding. Wanker.

The changing rooms are nice with lockers and showers, and there are a couple of women getting changed. I give them a small smile, then head to one of the benches before placing the bag on it Inside is a riot of colours, and I smile when I pull out some super colourful patterned leggings, a matching sports bra, and a hot pink vest with large armholes. There is also a pair of coral pink trainers, and I quickly change out of my boho-style dress and boots, placing them in a locker with the bag and getting into the fitness gear.

There was also a padlock with the bag and a note telling me the combination—the date and month of my birthday, which is kind of cute in a stalkery way, right?—so I lock it all up, and taking a deep inhale, head back out into the gym.

I spot the guys instantly, my mouth going dry when I see they’ve stripped down to shorts and vests, their muscular, inked-up arms and legs on full display. Damn, those boys are fucking pretty. They’re talking to a couple of guys by some machines, and Rowan’s head snaps up the moment I start walking towards them, his eyes burning a path across my body, leaving me feeling naked.

The others soon spot me too, the guys they were talking to, looking over their shoulders, eyes appraising before Hunter growls something and they scurry off, giving me nods but not looking at me again.

“Hunt, you’re trying to fucking kill us, I swear,” Roman groans, his gaze roaming up and down my body, much the way his brother’s did.

“I severely underestimated how fucking hot she’d look,” Hunter replies, his own green eyes heated, and Jesus, how can a look leave me trembling?

“I’m standing right here, you know,” I chide, trying to shake the lustful thoughts from my brain. As much as it pisses Evangeline off, I can’t spend all day, every day fucking them. They’re right, I need to train if I’m going to survive.

“Oh, we know, Little Lamb,” Rowan states, his voice low as he stalks towards me. “And thanks to Hunt, so does every fucker in here. I should have brought more knives.”

“Moreknives? How many do you have on you?” I ask, looking over his gym clothes.

“Three,” he answers, as if firstly, that’s normal, and secondly, there is a way to hide three knives while wearing shorts and a vest.

“Three?Where?” My eyes trace over his body again, pausing at his dick, the outline of which isn’t exactly hidden.

“That’s for me to know and you to only find out when you’re tied and at my mercy, Lamb,” he casually says, and I almost choke on my own saliva. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Time to warm up, Peaches,” Hunter declares, and I swear my brain spins with how quickly I need to adjust from sex fantasies to a workout. “Have you done any kind of exercise before?”

“Yoga,” I answer, excitement filling me at the idea of getting in some stretching and losing myself to just breathing.

“Show me,” he orders, and I can’t help the eye roll at how bloody bossy this man is sometimes. I should have known though, because Willow moaned about it all the time when we spoke. I really must, at the least, text her soon.

I look around and spot some mats in the corner, so making my way over to them, I sink down into a cross-legged pose and close my eyes. It takes a couple of minutes, but with some focused breaths, I’m soon able to tune all the noise from around me out, and I start to move through some stretches, my muscles loosening the more I do.

“Fuck,” Roman’s hissed curse breaks my trance as I’m on my back, pulling my leg closer to me.

“Help me get deeper, Ro?” I ask, my lips twitching with how fast he rushes to me, kneeling down between my legs and placing his large palms on my calf. “Push when I breathe out, okay?”

“Sure thing, beautiful,” he replies, and when I give him a nod, he pushes, my muscles burning as my knee almost touches my chest, my ankle resting on his shoulder. “Shit, Princess. I didn’t know you were so damn flexible.”

I give a shocked giggle when his hardness pokes into my core, but ignoring it, I breathe through the stretch. Then commanding him to let go, I switch sides.

“So, what do the Shadows do? I mean, aside from running the estate and building community centres?” I ask, looking at Hunter as Ro helps me get deeper on this side.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before doing some stretches of his own, Rowan having moved to one of the rowing machines next to us. “I suppose you’ll find out sooner or later,” Hunt muses, his green eyes tired all of sudden, his forehead pinched.

“I won’t think less of you, Hunt. I know that you’re not lily-white, but you’re not the bad guys either. You’re good men,” I tell him, tapping Roman on the arm so he eases off my leg. Sitting up, Roman still between my thighs with a very distracting outline of his cock against his shorts, I straighten my legs and stretch down one side, my face level with his crotch. I smile when he groans, but he doesn’t move.

“Our crew runs drugs around the West End, not the hard shit, but coke, weed, pills, that kind of shit. And we never sell to kids,” Hunt tells me, and I lift up to stretch the other side. “But our main gig is stealing high-end cars from the pricks around here and then selling them on the black market.”

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