Page 4 of Owned By Shadows

I look into his deep brown eyes, which usually sparkle with laughter but are currently spitting mad.

“Good to see you awake,Lev.”

“ARTEMIS” BY STEPHEN REZZA

ROMAN

God, I want to wipe that fucking pretty boy smirk off his smugface, but aside from the binding around my good wrist, the throbbing pain in my left shoulder has me gritting my teeth as the plane jerks. He has the audacity to saunter over to a chair next to the bed, placing the bottle of vodka and two frosted glasses on the table between us.

He doesn’t say a fucking word as he cracks open the liquor, pouring a measure into each glass. I raise a brow at him, looking at the glass he holds out to me, and then at my tied right arm, and my left, which is currently in a sling.

“And how the fuck do you expect me to drink that?” I snarl, my situation making me all kinds of grumpy and pissed at the Russian before me. Justified, given he was the one to shoot me.

“Don’t worry,Lev. I’ll help you,” he says, his accented voice rolling over me and sending a shiver across my skin. Must be the meds because there is no way I’d react like this given the bastard was the one to injure me in the first place. I may be kinky, but I’m notthatkinky.

I hold my breath as he kneels on the bed, ignoring the fact the plane dips with the take off, and my ears pop. Tenderly, and with a gentleness that is unexpected, he slides his free hand underneath my head, lifting it and placing the frozen glass against my lips. He tips the glass, his dark eyes never leaving my lips as I part them, letting the alcohol slide in.

It burns in the way that only the best vodka does, but I swallow gratefully, suddenly needing it as his fingers caress the back of my head in a gesture that I feel to my very soul. His gaze is intense as he watches me, seeing the moment I’ve had enough, and then he pulls the glass away, his eyes following the movement of my tongue as I collect a couple of drops that sit on my lip.

“Good boy,” he purrs, and fire races across my body, but not from the still healing bullet wound in my shoulder. I take a shuddering inhale before swallowing again.

“You could have just untied me,” I whisper, his hand lowering me back down to the pillow but lingering on my neck. His lips quirk up in that smirk of his, and whereas before there was just anger, now there’s something much more pleasant mixed in with the rage, heightening the feeling.

“I find I like the sight of you tied up in my bed,Lev,” he says, his voice soft. Then he blinks, like that was a confession he didn’t mean to make and removes his hand before getting off the bed, setting my glass down and reaching for his own. “And maybe if you continue to be good and promise not to get up,—you’re still healing after all—then we can see about releasing the binds.”

I huff a breath and he chuckles, the sound slithering over me in a silken caress that is entirely inappropriate given the current situation.

“And my questions? What the fuck am I doing here, Nik?” I ask, the nickname Iris uses for him slipping out. His eyelids flutter closed, and I swear he shudders as he sits back in the chair. He takes a sip of his drink, then trains those dark eyes on me.

“My father’s men picked you up when you landed back in England from being in Colorado, helping the Black Knights,” he tells me, and the fuzzy memories surface like I’m in a dream. “You went to the bathroom without your brother and they injected you with a fast-acting sedative, then took you out through the employees’ entrance.” He takes another sip, his fingers tight around the glass. “I had also been watching them, and intercepted them, but not before they’d contacted my father and told him the good news.”

My heart thuds inside my chest as I recall the memory of waking up, beaten and bloody and tied to that fucking chair, and my beautiful Princess’s face full of anguish.

“Who beat me?” I ask, my voice barely above a rasp, and he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, his eyes closing. He looksweary, and maybe for the first time, I see the weight of what he carries on his shoulders.

“After I relieved my father’s men of their charge, namely you, I took you to a warehouse we use at such times. I had to make it look convincing,Lev. It was the only way. So I beat you as my father watched over video call until he decided it was time to end you.” His jaw clenches, his hand tightening around his glass until I worry it will shatter, and then his eyes open, their gaze piercing. “That’s when I tied you to that chair and he called Hunter.”

The sound of Iris’s scream echoes in my memories, alongside the sound of a shot being fired and excruciating pain in my shoulder. Not my chest though.

“It was never meant to be a kill shot,” I state, my brows furrowed, and before I can blink, he’s on the bed once more, his cold palm wrapped around the front of my throat and his glass landing on the carpet with a dull thud.

“Of course it wasn’t a fucking kill shot!” he snarls, his nostrils flaring. “I would sooner shoot myself in the head than kill you,Lev.” His grip on my throat loosens and my heart pounds inside my chest as his eyes devour me.

“Because of Iris?” I ask in barely above a whisper, my eyes wide as I look into the swirling depth of his.

“In part,” he admits, his thumb stroking my thudding pulse. Then he lowers his face, his vodka scented breath washing over me, and I can’t help the small groan that leaves my lips to float across his. “Partly because I know that a world without you, Roman Kent, is a dark place, and not one I’m keen to discover.”

My breath is stolen, no air able to get through to my lungs as his words rush through me, landing in my fucking soul. His lips brush mine for a fraction of a second, not long enough to even be considered a kiss, but long enough to change something within me.

“Now get some rest,moy mal'en'kiy Lev,” he purrs against them before he pulls back, and I’m left shivering. “It’s several hours before we reach Russia, and it’ll be an arduous journey to our next stop, so you need all your strength.”

“What happens when we get there?” I ask as he settles back into his chair and a wave of exhaustion sweeps through me.

“We hope Iris remembers all that I taught her about co-ordinates and playing hide-and-seek,” he answers, picking up his glass and pouring more vodka into it. My forehead creases and my eyelids droop, my lips parting to ask another question even though I’m fighting to stay awake. I bet the fucker drugged me again. I should plan all the ways I will make him pay, for everything, but I’m just too fucking tired right now. “Sleep now, my little lion. They’ll be plenty of time to answer your questions.”

My breath falls from my lips on a deep sigh, my body losing the battle to stay awake as I slip back into the darkness again. Only this time, there is no terror, no anguish, as if a part of me knows that I’m safe with him. That he will protect me, just like he has Iris, the other third of my soul.

And I wonder if there’s not room for one more piece to be given away, and if it doesn’t already belong to another, if I’m not already divided into quarters.

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