Claimed by Shadows (The Shadowmen #2)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

“brUISES” BY LEWIS CAPALDI

IRIS

I t feels like a dream, like it’s not quite real as we make our way down some back stairs and out into the night. I’m surrounded by Hunt’s mint and rosemary scent, his tux jacket covering me, his arms wrapped tightly around me and lending me his warmth.

There’s a car waiting at the end of the alleyway we emerge from, the same driver with the scarred face behind the wheel. It should feel comforting in the familiarity, but it’s just a reminder that nothing has changed apart from me.

“I’m in the back with Iris,” Hunt declares, pulling the door open and ushering me inside. Before I can scoot over fully, the other door opens and Roman steps into the car, settling on the other seat so that I’m sandwiched between them both. It’s almost too much after yearning for them for so long, but the ache between my thighs reminds me I’m not the same girl I was when I saw them last.

“Fuck, Princess,” Roman rasps, his shaking hand coming up to cup my face as we start to drive off, Rowan in the front passenger seat. “Fuck.”

He places his forehead against mine, his voice thick and his hand trembling as he just holds me against him, breathing me in. I do the same, taking in deep inhales of his scent, wishing it could erase the past few weeks. My stomach is in knots knowing that nothing can change what has happened. Hunt has a tight grip on my hand, his thumb caressing back and forth over my skin, and the touch is so gentle, so reverent, that tears spill down my cheeks.

“I missed you all…so much,” I whisper, my free hand coming up and resting against Roman’s chest. His heart pounds so hard I can feel it, and it’s almost in time with my own, our bodies trying to be in sync again.

“We will never let him have you again, Princess. I fucking swear it,” Roman vows, pressing his quivering lips against mine, and I freeze.

I want to kiss him back, but all I can feel is his lips, his tongue trying to push into my mouth as he forces himself on me once again. With a gasp, I pull back, my breathing fast and my heart breaking at the confusion in Roman’s blue eyes.

“I–I’m s–sorry,” I stutter out, my shoulders rounding as I hunch into myself. “I can’t—” How can I tell them everything that Sergi did to me? How can I confess that he broke me so thoroughly that all I can feel is him when they touch me like that?

“Hey, Peaches, look at me,” Hunt orders, and I twist my face to look at him. “It’s okay. No one expects anything from you, okay?” I nod, unable to utter another word as the lump grows in my throat. “Good girl. Let’s get you home and settled, that’s all we need to focus on for now.”

I sink back into the seat, my eyelids closing as I take several deep, shuddering breaths. Warmth around my palm has my eyes opening, and I look to the side to find Roman, holding my hand in both of his. His blue eyes are on me, his brows furrowed, but there’s no anger there, just concern.

“It’ll all be okay, Princess. You’re home now.”

I want to agree with him, want it so badly that it’s making my skin itch, but how can it ever be okay again? The walls I built around myself at the Petrov mansion and the cage that encases all the awful things that Sergi put me through, fractures. And I know it’s only a matter of time before they come tumbling down and I’ll be forced to face every nightmare I endured.

“IN THE SHADOWS” BY AMY STROUP

ROWAN

I watch Iris as we lead her back into the flat and notice that her hunched shoulders don’t relax as we shut and lock the door behind us. If anything, they get tighter.

“Would you like a bath?” I ask softly, but she still jumps and it guts something inside me to see her fear so close to the surface. Her head snaps to me, stealing the very breath from my lungs as her eyes lock with mine, pleading for something that I’m not sure we will be able to give her.

“Yes please, Roo,” she whispers, and just hearing her voice sends a shiver up my spine. Fuck, it feels unreal to have her back with us. Like the past few weeks were just a nightmare and I’ve woken up to find it wasn’t real, but the ghosts in her eyes tell me that every minute happened.

“I’ll make you something to eat, Peaches,” Hunt states, placing a kiss on her knuckles. We all freeze when she flinches from the light caress, and my soul aches with the knowledge of what would cause a reaction like that.

With a deep inhale, I head towards her bathroom and go through the motions of running her a bubble bath, putting in her favourite scents and oils, plus some epsom salts to help with healing. My chest is tight as I pour them in, dark memories trying to overtake me. The pain of being forced never goes away, and my ass twinges with the remembered ache of having my innocence stolen from me at the hands of a greedy man.

Once the bath is ready, I go back out to the kitchen to find Iris picking at a grilled cheese sandwich, Hunt and Roman looking at her with such pain in their gazes it’s hard to breathe.

“Bath’s ready, Lamb,” I tell her, and she looks up with a glassy stare, a glazed look that I fucking hate settling over her features. She moves off the stool, the guys standing up as well, but I hold my hand up, shaking my head at them. “I’ve got this , ” I mouth, and Hunt’s jaw works back and forth, but one glance at Iris, who’s staring down at her empty hands, has him sighing and nodding back.

Gently, I reach out, waiting for her to place her hand in mine, knowing she needs that control to start the healing process. She blinks down at my outstretched palm, then after a moment, her small hand slides into mine, and it feels like I just won the London Marathon or some shit, warmth flushing throughout my body.

Slowly, I lead her towards her room, the soft glow of the lamps spilling out into the hallway. She stops before we cross the threshold, and I twist to look back at her. Her plush lower lip is tucked under her teeth and her glassy eyes are wide.

“What is it, Lamb?” I question, my brows dipping as I take in her shivering form.

“I can’t—” She stops, closing her eyes and taking in a breath. “I can’t go in like this, Roo.”

Her other hand twitches at her side, and I look at her, seeing the translucent dress and sky-high heels as if for the first time. It’s sexy as hell, but I bet that cunt Sergi chose it to show off his property. I swallow hard, trying to tamp the darkness that threatens to overspill and kill every Russian fucker I come across.

“Then let’s take it off here and I’ll get Roman to burn the clothes,” I tell her, and her lids snap open, her eyes beseeching me for my help.

I let go of her hand and dip down to reach into my boot, taking out the switchblade that I stashed in there before we left for the game. No way was I going in there unarmed. Straightening up, I flip the blade open, watching the small shiver that flows across her. With a touch that never has been gentle, I take one of the thin straps between my fingers, and using the blade, slice through it. I repeat the same on the other side, pausing when it exposes her breasts and the small bruises that litter her peachy skin.

There’s a pounding in my ears, my throat suddenly dry as I take in his fucking marks on my woman. I will take every last drop of Sergi Petrov’s blood in the most agonising way possible for daring to touch what didn’t belong to him.

With that comforting thought, I make quick work of cutting the dress from her body, noting each new mark and bruise that I come across. It’s the ones around her thighs, near her pussy that have my vision clouding, and it takes strength I didn’t know I possessed to close the blade and slide it back into my boot.

Getting to my knees, I place her hands on my shoulders and reach for her foot, slipping her heeled shoe off. Under other circumstances, I’d love these shoes, want to feel them digging into me as I worship her, but I know I’ll hate this brand forever now.

I get to my feet, watching the way her chest rises and falls, a flush colouring her skin. My eyes come back to lock on hers as I toe off my boots, holding her stare. I took my tux jacket off the moment we walked in, and rolled my sleeves up when running the bath, so I hold my hand out to her once again.

“Better?”

She swallows, the elegant column of her throat moving, the purple of his fingerprints stark against her pale skin. I think I’ll pull off his fingernails first, then cut each finger off at each knuckle joint until they are useless stumps.

“Yes,” she murmurs, and it takes me a moment to remember what I’d asked her. Her hand slides into mine and I take her through her room and into the bathroom, candles dotting the surfaces and the lights dimmed.

I take her over to the bath, helping her get into it, the silence thick between us. She lies down, a small contented sigh slipping from her lips, then I sit on the low stool we have in here. We got it so we could wash her when she had baths before, never imagining we’d use it to help soothe her hurts.

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 week for 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.