Page 69 of Kissed By Shadows

“I love you, Little Lamb,” he answers, his lips landing on mine with a softness that I don’t usually get from him. He decimates me with his gentle kiss, accepting me with each swipe of his tongue, his hand clutching mine like a lifeline.

Slowing the kiss, he presses our foreheads together, and we spend a moment just breathing each other in. Then my face is turned once more until I’m lost in the swirling gaze of Hunter Anderson, my husband.

“I love you, Hunt, so much that it scares me,” I confess, and his lips pull up into a beautiful smile that has my chest heating.

“I know, Peaches, but from what I’ve found in this life, the best things are often the ones that leave you trembling,” he tells me, moving his hips slightly so the double meaning is clear, and I huff a pained laugh. “I love that you trust me to know what’s best for you, that you let me take care of you in the way I know how. I love your light, like a bolt of sunshine in a fucking dark and gloomy world. I love your goodness, the way you care for us and those around you, even when you’re unsure and hurting. I love you, Iris Anderson, and I always will.”

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks at his words, and he kisses them away before his lips alight on mine. My breath sighs out of me at his consuming kiss, and I give myself to him completely, not caring that the world says it’s too soon. That our situation is beyond fucked up. Right now, as Hunter kisses me like I’m the air he needs to breathe, with the twins either side of me, life is pretty perfect.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls back, his dick still semi-hard inside me, like he’s plugging his seed inside me in order for it to take root.

“The twins can fill you with their cum in the morning, Peaches,” he tells me, matching growls sounding either side of me. “It’s two in the morning and my wife needs some rest, so we’re going to clean you up, and then it’s bedtime.” His tone brokers no argument, although the twins grumble until a jaw-cracking yawn almost splits my mouth in two.

“Fine, but expect to wake up with us inside that sweet pussy,” Roman relents, pressing another soft kiss on my temple before getting off the bed and standing up, his hard cock pressed against his jeans. With a sigh, Rowan does the same, both sauntering into the bathroom, the sound of the shower filling the space.

Hunt pulls out of me, his eyes focused on my face, taking in my slight wince and gasp.

“Sore?” he asks, not looking at all sorry about it, even though I can see some blood on his dick, must have been from where he took my coil out. I slowly sit up, my face scrunching as a throb deep inside me tells me that yep, I’m sore as fuck.

“A little,” I tell him, watching as he strips his shirt off, then pushes his jeans down his hips, bending over to take his socks off too. Bastard didn’t even pause to get naked before he fucked me.

I look over my shoulder at the bed and the remains of my pretty dress. There’s also a watery red stain that has me wincing again.

“You’ll be fine, darling,” he tells me, and I face him once more, my brows raised, but I’m too tired to argue, too fucked out to protest. I enjoyed what happened, even if it took me way out of my comfort zone. “Come on, let’s get you sorted and into bed.”

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it, letting him help me off the bed because my legs are wobbly as fuck. Chuckling, he swoops down and lifts me into his muscular arms, and again, I would protest, but tiredness has my lids closing as I nestle into his sweat-slicked body.

I’m vaguely aware of the warm water hitting my body, of hands washing me in Hunt’s rosemary and mint soap, but my eyes refuse to open, so I just let my Shadows take over as they love to do, as I love them to do. Soon, I’m back in Hunt’s bed, the scent of freshly washed sheets surrounding me as I’m placed on top of Hunt and the twins lying either side of us.

“We need a bigger bed,” I mumble, three masculine chuckles wrapping themselves around me as I snuggle into Hunt’s arms, the heat from his body allowing each of my muscles to relax.

“I’ll order one in the morning, Peaches. Now sleep,” Hunt’s deep voice rumbles, and before I can even protest that he’s a bossy fucker, sleep drags me under and I drift away to the rhythmic pounding of his heartbeat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“SOLDIER” BY TOMMEE PROFITT, FLEURIE

NIKOLAI

“Thatubludocthinks he’s won, but nobody gets the upper hand on Sergi Petrov!” my father snarls, sitting in the chair across from me, the fire roaring in front of us as we drink vodka from the home country in crystal tumblers. “He’ll soon see the error of his ways.”

We came home to discover the news that Hunter’s marriage to Iris is legal and legitimate, someone clearly having planted the paperwork in the right places in the time between us meeting Hunter at the club and us arriving home. Obviously, that pissed Sergi off, although I doubt it will do much to stop him. He views Iris as his, a piece of his property to do with as he sees fit, regardless of what the law says.

Envy coats my insides in sticky green, my fingers gripping my glass tightly as I think about her belonging to Hunter now. She should be mine, sheismine, but she’s fucking theirs nowtoo, and although I know it’s the only way to keep her safe right now, my hindbrain growls and snaps at her having his last name instead of Petrov. I shiver as I think about that being my father’s surname too. He would need to go before she took it.

“What do you plan to do, Papa?” I ask, making my voice casual and not showing any of the fear that roils inside me at what diabolical plans my sire has in store to get his hands on Iris.

I’ve been working on my takeover, putting things in place and feeling out potential allies, but I have to be careful. If I trust the wrong person, move too quickly and Sergi finds out, he will not hesitate to put me down. Betrayal is an unforgivable crime in the Bratva.

“When faced with an infestation of rats, you need to smoke them out, then call in the exterminators,” he answers cryptically, swirling his drink in his glass. The fire reflects off the glass, casting his eyes in shadow, and it takes a lot of effort not to demand answers. He’ll tell me when he’s ready and not a moment before. I just pray that it’ll be in time to save her. “For now, I need you to go to St. Petersburg, some of our associates need to be reminded of the benefits of being part of the Bratva.”

It takes all the control I possess, my years of training kicking in, not to show the sheer panic that turns my veins to ice at his words. My chest still constricts until I’m forced to take silent, calming breaths.

“When do I leave?” I ask him, my voice steady and not showing any hint of the turmoil I’m feeling inside. How the fuck am I supposed to let Hunter know what Sergi plans if I’m not here?

“Your flight leaves at ten, the car will be ready to pick you up at six. You have four hours to pack and get some rest,” he replies, not even looking at me. He’s so used to people obeying him without question, so used to me obeying him, that it doesn’teven register that I could say no. And I won’t, because even if I’m not here, I can’t help Iris if I’m dead.

“Yes, sir. How long should I pack for?” I question, drinking the last of my vodka, letting the burn somewhat calm my nerves.

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