Page 19 of Claimed By Shadows

She lies there, not moving and staring off into the distance.

“We were seven when we ended up with the Jones’s,” I start, my skin flushing hot and then cold as I recall my darkest memories. “They lived in the burbs, lots of houses that all looked the same with large gardens and lots of room to play.” I remember how excited we were to be around so much green. I glance over at her, and her hands are moving through the water, her gaze following them. “It seemed like we’d landed in heaven, lots of toys and space to play, a hot meal each night, and we even had separate rooms.” I huff a deprecating laugh, staring down at my hands, my inked-up fingers clenching. “It only took a weekfor me to learn that sometimes monsters hide in the daylight.” A wet hand covered in bubbles takes one of mine, and I look down to find hazel eyes full of pain staring back at me. “He told me that if I was a good boy and did everything he said, Roman and I could stay there and have everything we’d ever wanted. That it would be our secret and I’d be helping my brother have a good life.”

I watch as the tears well in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as the phantom feel of hands holding me down steals my breath for a moment.

“H–how long were you with them for?” she asks softly, her voice as broken as I feel inside.

“Three years,” I grit out. “Until Roman found him in my bed one night when we were ten and hit him over the head with a lamp.” My cheeks flush as I remember his horror, seeing the tears along my cheeks as Dave Jones abused my child’s body and the blood that spilled over me as Roman cracked the man’s skull like a nut. It was beautiful, the warmest thing I’d ever felt.

“H–he came to my room every night,” she starts, and it’s my turn to grip her hand tightly in mine as she tells her truth. “At first he would have his men help h–hold me down, but soon he said he wanted me all to h–himself.” A choked sob has me moving before I’m thinking, stepping into the large tub, still in my suit trousers and shirt but not giving a fuck, just needing to hold her.

Her arms wrap around me, her head buried in my neck as sobs wrack her body.

“It’ll get better. It might not feel like it right now, Lamb, but I promise one day you’ll feel clean again,” I tell her, my own voice choked, knowing all too well the stain something like this leaves on your skin, on your very soul until you think that’s all you feel. Dirty and unworthy.

“It’s l–like I can still f–feel his touch. W–when Roman k–kissed me earlier…” she cries harder, and my own tears spill over, hating that I couldn’t stop this from happening to her.

“He understands, we all do,” I say softly, movement by the door, having me looking up to find both Hunter and my brother standing there, tears tracing paths down their cheeks. I don’t know how long they have been standing there, but it’s been long enough to catch some of her story if the way their hands are clenched into fists are any indication. “We will all help to wash his touch from you, however long it takes, love.” The endearment slips out but feels so fucking right as I pull her closer to me, holding her as she breaks down in my arms.

It’s all I can do, knowing all too well that some wounds need time and care to heal. She needs to see that we love her regardless of what happened to her. That we are here for her and will take care of her in every way she needs. That we will spend the rest of our lives making up for our failure to protect her and building her back up into our Queen of Shadows.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“HURTS LIKE HELL” BY FLEURIE, TOMMEE PROFFITT

IRIS

After we get out of the bath, Rowan dries me off while Hunt and Roman watch, their gazes searing into me. I hate this feeling, that I’m lost in my own skin and don’t know how to find my way back to them.

“Things will look better in the morning, Princess. They always do,” Roman tells me, reaching out for my hand but pausing just before he grabs it. He waits, just like Rowan did, and my eyes sting with appreciation, even if I wish we could go back to how it was between us before.

“I hope so,” I murmur, taking his hand and relishing the warmth that encases my palm and travels up my arm. A heaviness settles over my limbs, my body suddenly so bone weary I sway on my feet from exhaustion.

“Let’s get you to bed, Peaches,” Hunter states, his deep voice both a comfort and a reminder of all that I’ve lost. I hope Romanis right, that with the rising of the sun, I’ll be able to reclaim my life before Sergi took me.

Roman leads me over to the bed, pulling back the covers and helping me into it.

“Do you want us to join you, or would you rather sleep alone?” he asks, his voice a little hesitant, and I fucking hate it.

“Stay, please,” I reply as I snuggle into the bed, the familiar scents calming me a little.

“Thank fuck,” he rasps, quickly shedding his shirt and trousers before climbing in beside me. “Can I hold you, Princess? Please?”

“Oh, R–Roman—” My voice breaks on a sob, tears flooding my vision as his strong arms pull me against his hot body. He curls around me, the bed dipping behind me as Rowan’s scent engulfs me, his warmth radiating down my back as his arms encircle me.

“It’ll be okay, love,” Rowan whispers in my ear, and the term of endearment just makes me cry harder as I cling to Roman, wishing I didn’t feel so fucking broken.

They hold me while I break, while I cry for the girl who several weeks ago knew nothing about how monstrous the world could be. Soon, my sobs subside and my closed lids feel so heavy I don’t even try to open them.

“H–Hunt?” I whisper, my heart thudding with the thought that he might not be here with us.

“I’m here, Peaches,” his gruff voice tells me, a large palm gliding down my hair.

“I need you here,” I say, knowing the words might not make sense but I’m too exhausted to explain. Luckily, he seems to understand because there’s some shuffling, then his body is underneath mine, his chest underneath my cheek. His heart pounding in my ear in a reassuring beat that soothes my fractured soul.

Hands reach out to touch me, the twins keeping our connection, and it’s enough to allow the darkness to swallow me, my body cocooned in the warmth of the men who love me despite my wounds.

The next couple of weeks pass by in a fog. It’s like I’m living underwater, experiencing everything through a film of dullness that I can’t seem to shift. I barely eat, Hunter making all sorts of dishes for me to try, but nothing can encourage my appetite. I often feel too nauseous to swallow more than a mouthful, and I catch each of their concerned glances as I push plate after plate away.

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