Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

27. Chapter Twenty Seven

T o my pleasant surprise, the Shadowed Souls let me sleep most of the day away. Christmas Day. A day that should have been filled with joy and laughter, yet I couldn’t bring myself to face it. The weight of the past, the mess I’m tangled in, feels too heavy to bear right now. Throughout my slumber, I faintly felt the shift of bodies around me, someone always staying by my side. There were countless moments I could have let myself wake, but I chose not to. Dreaming seemed easier.

Behind my closed eyelids, I could pretend Meg was still here, laughing by my side. I could pretend Nixon hadn’t stolen his business partner’s baby to cover up his wife’s affair. Pretend I hadn’t ended up in Fredrick’s clutches anyway, despite everyone’s attempts to keep me safe. Memories of those darkest days tried to claw their way into my dreams more times than I care to count, but each time, the warm arms of whoever was holding me chased them away.

At one point, I was certain I could smell remnants of Wyatt’s expensive cologne. It’s a powerful thing, dreaming, because I swore I could feel his arms tighten around me as if to anchor me here. There was even a faint whisper, telling me he would keep me safe. What a cruel lie for my mind to conjure up. But in the haze of sleep, I almost believed it.

Eventually, I rouse as the sun begins to set, casting the room in a warm, golden light. I shift, my limbs heavy from sleep, and find myself staring directly into Dax’s icy blue eyes. His gaze is soft, all the usual sharpness muted. Somehow, his presence chases away the last remnants of the coldness I woke up with.

“How long have you been watching me sleep?” I ask, raising a brow. Dax gives me that half-smile of his, as though weighing up his answer.

“Long enough to be considered endearing but not creepy.” I let out a soft laugh, nudging him with my shoulder.

“I can see why you took English lit for extra credit.”

“Best thing I ever did,” he says, wriggling closer, until there isn’t an inch of space between us under the covers. His breath is warm against my lips as he murmurs, “Because it brought me to you.”

His kiss is slow, deliberate and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second. I melt into him, my body responding instinctively, though my mind still feels like it’s catching up. Dax always knows how to make me feel seen, even in my messiest moments. As his lips move against mine, I allow myself to fall into the sensation, letting it drown out the lingering shadows.

But the peace doesn’t last. The moment we pull apart, the weight of everything comes rushing back—the tangled web I can’t escape, the lies, the danger lurking on the edge of our world.

“Dax,” I whisper, pulling back just enough to search his face. “What if I can’t fix any of this? What if Wyatt never forgives me?” Dax silences me with another kiss, this one firmer, more urgent, before pulling back to look me dead in the eyes.

“You don’t have to fix everything and you certainly aren’t asking for forgiveness,” he says, his voice low and steady. “None of this is your fault, and you’re not alone, okay? We’re here. I’m here.”

For a second, I want to believe him. Want to let the comfort of his words wash over me and erase the fear gnawing at my gut. But I know better. Fredrick spent years teaching me that I’ll always be his victim, even when I thought I’d found freedom. Tracing my fingers along his jaw, I try to hold onto this fragile moment for just a little longer.

“Come on Swan, the boys will be ready soon.”

“Ready for what?” I ask but Dax decides he’s said enough. Instead, he tugs me up, cradles me in his arms to the bathroom and proceeds to shower with me. I’m not complaining, sighing at his gentle touches and chaste kisses. He lathers body wash all over us both, slipping and sliding, taking intimate care to wash between my legs. Moving onto my hair, Dax honors me like his queen, his lips finding the crook of my shoulder on multiple occasions. Every time I try to reach for his hardened cock between us, he eases my hand away.

“This is about you,” he whispers. Thoroughly cleaned, Dax takes a warm towel from the rack and wraps me in it. I step back into the bedroom, halting at the sight of Axel standing beside the vanity, a paddle brush in one hand and hairdryer in the other, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“My turn,” Axel declares, his voice smooth and calm, but the intensity in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat. Dax gives my lower back a gentle push, and I find myself walking toward Axel without even thinking, the soft towel wrapped around me like a shield.

I glance over my shoulder at Dax, but he’s already slipping out of the room, leaving just the two of us. The door closes with a quiet click, and suddenly, the space between Axel and me feels charged with something unspoken. His hazel eyes are heavy with emotion as he looks me over, freshly scrubbed and standing in the center of the fluffy rug. Not just desire, but something deeper. It makes my breath catch.

Axel gestures to the chair in front of the vanity, and I sit, my legs curling up under the towel. I can’t help but shiver a little, not from cold but from the feeling of being cared for like this—like I’m delicate, precious.

“Relax,” Axel laughs softly, running his fingers over my tense shoulders. “I might not have hair but I’m not totally inept.” I smile at him in the mirror, although it wasn’t his skills I was questioning. It was how much longer I can go without throwing myself into his long arms and declaring the depth of my feelings for him. For all of them, because apparently I can’t be satisfied with a typical relationship.

Oblivious, Axel gently untangles the damp strands of my hair with his fingers first. I close my eyes as he begins brushing through my hair, slow and methodical. Each stroke of the brush pulls me further from my swirling thoughts and deeper into the present, the weight of the past momentarily lifting. Axel’s touch is hypnotic, grounding. It makes me feel safe.

He works in silence, drying my hair with precision, the soft hum of the hairdryer filling the space. I feel his gaze on me, the heat of it making my skin tingle, but he doesn’t rush. He’s always had this way of making everything seem like there’s no urgency, like time bends around him.

Setting the dryer down, Axel runs his hands over my now-silky golden hair. I pause to assess the brown roots pushing against my scalp, barely a millimeter but now I know why Cathy was so desperate for me to be blonde, I have a decision to make. Should I continue to dye it or become a brunette again like Meg?

“Beautiful,” Axel murmurs, stepping back to admire his work. A faint knock sounds on the door.

“How’s it going in here?” Garrett pops his head around the door. Axel smirks and gestures for him to enter. For a moment the pair of them stand shoulder to shoulder, sizing me up like their next meal. A wave of heat flushes my skin, my nipples tightening under the towel as my mind flashes back to memories of them sharing me and dominating me. As if sensing my thoughts, Axel’s grin widens, a dimple flashing before he turns and slips out of the room. Garrett steps closer, his hands resting on the back of the chair, spinning me to face him.

“Don’t tell me,” I roll my eyes, “all of this is part of some plan you’ve concocted. Using the others to get me ready for you.” He chuckles, the deep, rich sound making my stomach flip.

“I like the way you think, Peach, but not quite. I’m your fairy Garrett-mother, here to help you put clothes on for once.” True to his word, Garrett turns to the dresser and ruffles through the clothes folded neatly inside. Some are Meg’s that she left behind, figuring I’d have more use for them than her. Garrett pulls out a soft cashmere sweater in a shade of light gray and a pair of black leggings.

“Here,” he says, turning to face me. “Something comfortable but cute. You’ll thank me later.” I narrow my eyes at him as I stand, the towel wrapped around me slipping slightly.

“Do I get any underwear?” Garrett roars with laughter this time, slapping his knee and wagging a finger at me as if I’m a comedy genius. Whipping the towel aside, he helps to guide my feet through the leg holes, pausing to inhale my pussy before pulling the leggings up over my hips. I should probably feel a trace of embarrassment but there are some things you just expect with Garrett. His audacity is one of them. He slips the sweater over my head, the fabric sliding over my skin like butter. Garrett brushes the back of his tattooed fingers over my nipples through the fabric, his gaze hungry but restrained.

“We’d better get out of this room before I undo everyone’s hard work,” Garrett licks his lips suggestively.

“Where are we going?” I ask. Garrett winks, opening the door to present Huxley standing on the landing outside. The blond beams as he spots me, probably thankful Garrett stuck to his job. The latter jogs downstairs, leaving Huxley to pull me into the cage of his arms.

“Hey,” I breathe. His brown eyes sparkle.

“Hey.” The tension between us has dissipated since yesterday morning, where I kind of blamed him for everything that’s wrong in my life and then screwed him on the kitchen island. Both of those things were needed to get over the hurdles separating us, evidently hitting the reset button on our relationship. “Merry Christmas, my love.” I turn to liquid at the name, leaning against Huxley’s solid chest for support. It’s almost too much, the intensity of care they’re all showing me. How they’ve once again understood exactly what I needed and proven why I was right to fall for them all so quickly.

“Why are you all doing this for me?” I lean back, stroking a strand of Huxley’s hair away from his stubbled chin. His lips twitch into a small, lopsided smile and his hands rest gently on my arms.

“There isn’t much we could do about Nixon’s…intrusion yesterday, and salvaging the festive season seemed like a lost cause. We agreed the least we could do was make you feel safe and wanted. This is just a fraction of what you deserve.”

His words hit me hard, breaking through the last of my defenses. I’ve spent all night trying to stay strong, to keep it all together. What I so easily forgot is that I have four men who will gladly carry my burdens on my behalf, shouldering the weight of the world so I don’t have to. I bite my lip, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. One escapes, slipping down my cheek. Huxley catches it with his thumb, wiping it away gently.

“No crying on Christmas. That can be your present to me.”

“I can’t make any promises,” I manage to smile. We stand together, content to stare at one another for a while. Then Huxley tucks my arm into his and escorts me downstairs, the anticipation building with every step. Surprisingly, the house is entirely still. No signs of life cross our path until we reach the kitchen and I can finally hear the faint sound of laughter nearby. Huxley leads me through the back door, onto the porch that overlooks the beach.

The air smells of salt, smoke and burning wood, the familiar breeze is cool against my skin. A large fire crackles and pops a few hundred feet away, its flames dancing wildly against a pastel-streaked sky. The waves crash softly in the distance as an orange glow illuminates the beach, casting long shadows across the sand, and there, gathered around the fire, are the others.

Axel is sitting cross-legged on a blanket, a beer in hand, his striking hazel eyes softened in the light. Dax is poking at the fire with a long stick, the muscles in his arms flexing as he adds another log to the flames. Garrett, of course, is stretched out on his back in the sand, one arm thrown behind his head, his smile lazy and content as he watches the flames flicker against the darkening sky.

Blankets are spread out across the sand, bottles of wine and beer scattered around. Off to one side, a circular barbeque is gently warming, smoke trailing from the metal rack.

“Here she is,” Garrett pushes up onto his elbows. All heads turn my way. “Merry Christmas Peach! We hope you like it.”

Axel lifts his beer in a toast as Huxley and I approach the fire. I stare at them, at this moment they’ve created for me, my heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper—something that feels a lot like belonging.

“Come sit with us,” Huxley says, lowering down and patting the blanket next to him. I hesitate for a moment, the warmth of the fire licking at my skin as I take in the scene. It’s almost too much; the thoughtfulness, the way they’ve pulled this together last minute to give me some semblance of normality after everything that happened yesterday. But then Huxley squeezes my hand, a silent reassurance that it’s okay to accept this, to take the good while we can.

So I do. I sit between Axel and Hux, leaning back into the warmth of their bodies and the fire, and for the first time in days, I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. Until the back door slams open.

“Riot! I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.” Garrett sits up fully now, digging a beer bottle out of the sand and offering it up to the approaching figure. Framed by the light he’s left on in the kitchen, his dark silhouette seems to suck all of the air out of my lungs. I avoid looking at him, preferring the dancing flames of the fire as a focal point.

Wyatt strides toward the fire, brushing off Garrett’s offered beer with a dismissive wave. Catching sight of the movement, my eyes dart to the side and I immediately regret it. Ignoring the handful of packaged food he’s carrying, Wyatt is dressed in casual shorts with large pockets and a thin button down which has been left open to reveal the dragon tattoo spanning his muscled torso. His dark hair is tousled from the wind and those eyes, a shade of startling green, lock onto mine. I instinctively tense, my stomach knotting. It’s been so long, I don’t know how to act around him or on what terms we left things.

“Alright, let’s get this thing over with,” he says, his voice low but carrying through the cool air. His gaze flicks over the fire, the blankets, the guys, before settling back on me. There’s always an edge in his words, always something sharp beneath the surface.

I open my mouth to shoot something back, to meet his hostility with my own, but then he does something unexpected. Wyatt shoves his free hand into his pocket, his expression softening just slightly. Not much, but enough that it throws me off.

“I’m in charge of dinner. Are burgers okay?” he mutters, almost as if the question is painful.

I’m thankful that I’m sitting or I might have just collapsed. Blinking, utterly caught off guard, my mind trips over itself, playing a delayed game of catch up. Wyatt is cooking for me? The same man who’s made it his life’s mission to remind me how much he resents my existence? I glance around the fire, but no one else seems as stunned as I am. Axel takes a sip of his beer, Dax keeps poking at the fire, and Garrett’s already gone back to lounging in the sand.

I narrow my eyes, trying to gauge whether this is some kind of joke or setup. “You’re in charge of dinner?” I repeat, incredulous. “And no one is concerned you’re going to poison me?”

Huxley makes a humorous sound in his throat. “Everyone was given a job to make your day special. Wyatt’s on dinner duty.”

Wyatt’s eyes flicker with something I can’t quite read, but it’s not anger. He sighs, the sound barely audible over the crashing waves. “Yeah. It’s the only way I didn’t have to come in your close proximity.”

Ahh, that makes sense. I relax my shoulders now that Wyatt is once again the calculating dick I’m used to. All is right in the world again.

Wyatt moves toward the small barbeque setup, pulling further packages of meat and buns from his deep cargo pockets and placing them beside the grill. My eyes continually flick up, curiously watching him work while the others try to distract me with gentle conversation.

I turn my attention towards the sea, catching the last speck of sun peering over the horizon just as it sinks out of sight. The sky has quickly gone dark, only a strip of clouded red visible in the distance as if mourning the loss of light. The loss of a day that should have been filled with laughter and joy, but I can’t resonate with the guilt that threatens to take over. In Huxley’s arms, Axel pressed up against me, Dax just beyond and Garrett relaxing, singing a gentle song to himself, I can’t regret a single thing. This is perfect. They are perfect.

The smell of sizzling meat quickly fills the air, mixing with the salty ocean breeze and the smoky scent of the fire. I can’t stop glancing at Wyatt, quietly flipping burgers, his back to me. To an untrained eye, he might appear at ease, but I know better. Wyatt is never at ease around me. He stands with his back ramrod straight, his movements are slightly robotic and every once in a while, his hand shakes slightly. He quickly shoves it into his pocket, doing most tasks with just his left hand.

“Food’s ready,” Wyatt announces flatly, handing out the stacked buns without a plate in sight. His tone is all business, but when he passes one to me, his fingers brush mine. I feel the briefest spark of heat before he quickly pulls away.

I wait for the others to take a bite first, still not certain Wyatt wouldn’t take great satisfaction in trying to kill me off and save himself the hassle of staying here. Sitting opposite with his own burger, Wyatt’s eyes spear me expectantly. A small pause stretches between us, the crackling fire filling the silence. I take a bite, praying the others will revive me should anything go wrong, but all that explodes in my mouth is flavor.

“Damn, these are really good Riot!” Garrett exclaims around a mouthful. I have to give credit where it’s due and nod along in agreement. Turning away from our praise, Wyatt looks out to the sea, his breathing even and controlled.

“I’ve been cooking with Rachel these past two weeks, she’s a big fan of garlic salt,” he smiles into the distance. A sudden reality hits me. Wyatt has left someone behind, someone he clearly cares for. His biological mom.

“What’s she like?” I ask tentatively. A flash of emotion crosses Wyatt’s face and for a moment, I think he’s going to tell me to mind my own damn business. But then it passes and he relaxes once more.

“She’s wonderful. We’ve spent more quality time together in two weeks than I think I ever did with Cathy. Instead of hiring help, Rachel likes to take care of her home herself. She takes such pride in every detail and taught me how she likes it. I tried to relieve some of the workload where I could.”

All of us let Wyatt’s admission soak in. Dax responds first, his tone lighter than the frown marring his handsome face.

“You must miss her.”

Wyatt shrugs, putting his burger aside. I think most of our appetites have subsided, except for Garrett’s. “We’ve been apart for twenty one years. A little bit longer won’t hurt.”

“What about your dad?” Axel asks, tilting his head. Goosebumps have risen over his arms but I doubt they’re from the chilled winter evening. Once again, Wyatt surprises me by not avoiding the question.

“Ray was already sick when I got there and he declined quickly. It was…difficult trying to create a bond with someone who wasn’t going to be around for long, but both of them made it easy. After Ray passed, I didn’t really leave Rachel’s side. She asked me to help sort his belongings, showed me photo albums and trinkets from their time together. She helped me to realize I could still build that relationship even though Ray isn’t here anymore.”

I can’t be sure in the light of the fire but I’m sure Wyatt’s eyes dart to the side and his sad smile grows. My chest tightens, the weight of his words settling over me. He met and lost his father in a matter of weeks. I can’t even imagine the turmoil he’s been through, yet he’s not angry. In fact, there’s something raw in Wyatt’s tone that makes me wonder if this is the first time he’s ever let his guard down. I almost forget about the years of tension between us, the biting remarks, the cold stares. In this moment, there’s only Wyatt, and for once, he’s not lashing out. He’s... reaching out.

I sit there, the fire’s warmth battling the chill that’s crept over my skin. Wyatt’s gaze drifts back to the flames, and he says nothing more, but it’s enough. Enough to remind me that underneath, there’s something else. Something that might be worth understanding.

The others seem to sense the shift too. Garrett shoots me a knowing glance, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Meanwhile Dax leans closer, his arm brushing against Axel’s in a quiet gesture of support. Huxley remains draped over my shoulders, his presence alone grounding me.

Not too long after, Wyatt leaves to fetch a garbage bag and returns to clean up. I finish my burger, not wanting to seem ungrateful now that he’s decided not to be a gigantic prick today. Small wins and all that. Once satisfied the beach is clean and his duty has been filled, Wyatt leaves us with a tray of s'more ingredients and skewers before retreating inside. I track the lights through the house, lighting and darkening until he reaches his bedroom. I can’t believe that I’m thinking this, but he didn’t have to leave. We could have hung out or whatever.

“He’ll be okay,” Axel nudges my shoulder. I catch myself staring at the bedroom window and return to those around the fire, noting that their attention is now squarely on me.

“We have something for you,” Dax says across Axel’s far side. I’m already protesting that this evening has been enough, all I could possibly want and need, when Dax pulls a long gift box out from beneath the blanket. Garrett pulls up to his knees, watching intently with a boyish grin on his face. I blush beneath the scrutiny as I accept the box, pulling at the ribbon and revealing a delicate bracelet nestled inside. Dax explains the meaning of the compass, Axel shows me the inscription and as Huxley is putting it on for me, he leans forward to whisper in my ear.

“You mean the world to us.” Huxley’s breath is warm but I shiver regardless. Dax reaches over to take my hand, his thumb stroking my skin in small circles.

“All of us.” My heart stumbles. I glance down at the bracelet, the small silver compass glinting in the firelight. It’s delicate but carries so much weight, tethering me to the love I’m constantly being surrounded by. I run my thumb over the engraved inscription, a wave of tears threatening to spill over. I promised Huxley I wouldn’t but now I’m certain he set me up to fail.

It’s too much. This whole night has been a whirlwind of emotions I wasn’t prepared for, and now this—a symbol of connection, of permanence. A promise. I suck in a breath, willing the air to fill my lungs. For so long, I fought to keep everyone at arm’s length, to keep them out of harm’s way. Then I gave in, allowing them to surround me with affection, but this—this is more than I have ever dared wish for.

“Thank you,” I breathe, glancing at each of them in turn. Every pair of eyes is so different, but the reverence in them is the same. My throat closes with emotion and I swallow hard, pushing myself to say what I feel. What they deserve to hear. “I’m so thankful for all of you. Seriously, I never saw you guys coming.”

“Yet we’ve seen you coming oh so many- ow!” Garrett receives a sharp thump to the thigh from both Dax and Axel. I burst out laughing, reaching out and grabbing them all, dragging them into me. I want to be surrounded, a pile of limbs weighing me down. It’s the only type of comfort I’ve come to desire these days.

Garrett laughs softly, clambering over to plant a fierce kiss on my lips. He doesn’t hold back, his hands cupping my cheeks while I’m certain he’s elbowing the others out of the way. I laugh against his mouth, twisting so Garrett drops onto the blanket in the center of us.

Axel takes the opportunity to scoop me up, cradling me in his arms. It doesn’t stop Dax from leaning forward to kiss me next. My chest swells. Finally, Dax isn’t waiting in the background for his turn. Finally, Dax is taking what he wants.

“That’s enough,” Huxley physically breaks us up, tugging me free and lifting me to stand on wobbly feet. Like a pack of hounds, the three on the blankets crawl after me, hands on my ankles, pleading eyes begging me to take pity. Huxley bends, hoisting me over his shoulder. I squeal, surprised by the strength he displays as he starts to run. Not towards the house but further down the beach, away from the warmth of the fire.

“No you don’t!” Garrett yells. He, Dax, and Axel scramble to follow, tripping over blankets and bottles in their haste. Laughter trails us as I scream to be put down, lightly pounding my fists on Huxley’s back. My hair flies wildly, and I’m giggling uncontrollably as we seem to do a circuit, a bright flash of light cutting through the dark. Huxley stops for just long enough to wrench his SUV car door open and toss me inside. Slamming the door shut, his body weight is on me as a familiar click of the locks sounds, the key fob dangling from his hand.

“Oh, you are so naughty,” I gasp. He chuckles, ravaging my neck.

“I’ll pay for it later,” Huxley murmurs by my ear, and from the banging and screaming on the outside of the truck, I believe he’s right.