Page 25 of Claimed By Shadows

“Morning, Mrs Anderson,” he greets in a low, gravelly voice that I barely hear over the pounding of my heart. It takes a couple of panted breaths, but then my eyebrows scrunch as recognition floods through me.

“Did we meet in the Shadows gym? Rufus, isn’t it?” I ask, my voice only slightly breathless from the scare he just gave me. His lips spread into a grin that makes his imposing demeanour fade a little, not completely, but enough that my heart slows down from possible heart attack levels.

“Yes, ma’am, and yeah, we met there. Hunter chose me to be one of your guards, so I’ll be here all day, swapping out with Joe later on,” he tells me as I step into the hallway and close my door behind me.

“No disrespect,” I say, turning to face him after nibbling my lip. “But couldn’t your presence be triggering for some of the other patients?”

His own brows dip, his blue eyes filling with sorrow. “They gave us these scrubs to wear so that everyone thinks we’re just orderlies,” he tells me, and I blink as I register for the first time that he’s wearing baby pink scrubs. “And they introduced us yesterday to the other guests, but if it becomes an issue, we’ll think of something. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.” My poor abused heart twinges at the worry lacing his tone, the way his eyebrows are still drawn together.

“The colour suits you, Rufus,” I tease, a smile tugging up my lips, his own lifting and the sadness leaving his eyes.

“I think so too. Joe isn’t convinced though,” he replies gravely, mischief in his eyes, and I find my shoulders relaxing a little at the simple conversation as we both huff a small laugh. “Are you going to breakfast?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Hunter didn’t mention anything about making sure I ate and drank, did he?”

A blush steals across his cheeks and I know that I’ve got it right.Bloody overprotective Daddy.

“He might have once or twice,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck with his large palm, and I chuckle.

“Then I guess we’re going to breakfast, Rufus,” I reply and turn in that direction. We navigate through the corridors and down the stairs to the dining hall I was shown yesterday, and the opulent decor astounds me once again.

I grew up around wealth. Our mansion in Chelsea was full of expensive artwork and objects, but Serene Haven could give us a run for our money in that department any day. The fabric-covered walls are lined with beautiful landscape paintings in gilt frames and the thick Persian carpet under our feet is a stunning pattern you could very well get lost in. There are large floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere, flooding the place with light and leaving a warmth in my solar plexus as we move through the space.

The dining hall opens from 5am until 10pm, with main meals made to order and healthy snacks available twenty-four seven. Julia told me they understand that sometimes the patients—or guests as she likes to refer to us as—need to have a different routine to what would be considered typical eating hours, so they try to be as flexible as possible.

As we enter the room, it’s set up the same as yesterday, with lots of small round tables covered in gleaming white tablecloths and glass vases of fresh flowers on each one. There is an island in the middle that is piled high with many breakfast foods;cereal, fruit, pastries, and fresh breads, as well as several jugs of different coloured juice. Along the back wall is clearly the hot food station, with hot plates covered in everything you might want, from eggs and bacon to waffles and pancakes. There’s also a fancy-looking coffee machine with huge mugs stacked beside it. Julia told me breakfast was a buffet kind of affair, with lunch and dinner made to order from a daily menu.

I’m not the only one here so early. There’s a girl who can’t be more than sixteen sitting at a table, a steaming mug on the table in front of her that she stares into with such a lost look my stomach clenches at the visible pain on her drawn face. There’s also a guy, maybe around my age, sat at a different table, demolishing an enormous plate of pancakes. He looks up as Rufus and I enter, his gaze going to Rufus as he swallows hard.

“I’ll be over here if you need anything, Mrs Anderson,” he tells me, clearly sensing what seems to be the boy’s slight discomfort. I squeeze his arm, trying to tell him I appreciate his presence.

“Thank you, Rufus, and call me Iris, please.” He gives me a flash of a smile and a nod before standing with his back against the wall and to one side of the door, but far enough away not to startle anyone coming in.

Turning to face the tables, I take a deep inhale and walk towards the island. Picking up a plate, I’m trying to decide what to eat when the boy who was shovelling pancakes like he’d not eaten in a decade comes up next to me.

“You know that tattooed hunk?” he asks, his voice quiet. I look up from the pastries to find deep hazel eyes surrounded by the most stunning eyelashes staring at me. His face is delicate, with sharp cheekbones and full lips, lending him an ethereal air that I bet fashion houses would die for. He immediately reminds me of a fae prince, especially with that glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Rufus? Yeah, he’s…here to protect me.” I’m not sure if I should have said that last part, but I don’t want this guy to be worried about him.

“I knew it! No man that fine would work as an orderly,” he states in a triumphant whisper, and I can’t help the giggle that falls from my lips. “I’m Johnny by the way.” He holds out his hand and I take it.

“Iris,” I say as he shakes my hand in a firm, but not uncomfortable, grip. “I’m sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable. Rufus, that is.”

“Girl, the only discomfort is in my sweats,” he tells me with a chuckle, letting go of my hand and looking over at Rufus again, giving the gangster a wink. I choke on air as Rufus blushes bright red, his chest shuddering slightly as he looks away. “At least he bats for my team. I can work with that.”

I stare at Johnny, blinking. “How do you know he’s gay? You’ve not even spoken to him.”

Johnny puffs air from his lips, making a gesture at himself with his hand. “Gaydar, darling. It’s like my superpower and it’s flashing fucking rainbows for that hunk of man meat.”

Another laugh bursts out from between my lips. Johnny is like a breath of fresh air, the kind that hits you smack in the face and demands to be appreciated.

“Noted,” I reply, my mouth falling open when he takes my plate from me and starts piling pastries and fruit onto it.

“These pastries are to die for, and we do exercise classes so you can indulge as much as you like. Plus, you know, we deserve a treat after the shit we’ve been through, am I right?”

“Umm, yeah, I guess we do…” I trail off, not sure how to navigate the topic of what has clearly happened to us. I mean, Serene Haven is a facility specifically for victims of sexual abuse. It’s like the elephant in the room.

Once my plate is full of way more than I could eat, Johnny grabs a glass of juice and ushers me to his table, his plate of pancakes still half full.

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