Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
“OVERCOME” BY SKOTT
IRIS
Isee what Hunter meant when he told Roman to make sure everything was ready as soon as we step outside the front door.
Unlike last night, there are not one but three dark thrones on the balcony, looking like something out of Game of Thrones.
Ego much? They’re each dark wood, carved and ostentatious-looking, inky-black velvet cushions softening the hard wooden seats.
It should be surprising, how much power these guys wield at such a young age, but even just meeting these three, feeling the power that rolls off them like a heady perfume, it’s no wonder others will follow them. Will trust them to make their lives that little bit better.
“Really?” I ask, my bows raised as Hunter leads me to the one in the middle, his warm hand in mine.
He sits down, tugging me onto his lap and wrapping his muscular arms around me.
He snagged a form-fitting, black-knitted jumper before we left, telling me not to worry about a coat when I went to get mine from the peg by the door.
I see why as several large heaters fill the space, making it pretty toasty even though it’s early January and by the slight sparkle of frost on the ground and trees beyond the balcony, colder than a witch’s tit out here.
Grumbling, I snuggle into his lap, thinking of the reminder he gave me about obedience and figuring this way I get the extra warmth of his body heat.
It has nothing to do with how nice it feels to be in his lap, his arms banded around me, letting me know he has no plans of letting me go anytime soon.
“You’ll come to realise, Peaches, that a lot of life is the theatre, the spectacle.
It’s showing people what you want them to see.
We are the kings of this estate, we hold power.
We can’t let them forget it,” Hunter tells me, absently placing a kiss on my temple.
Shivers race across my skin from where his lips make contact, feeling hypersensitive as his minty rosemary scent wraps around me.
“They’re on their way up,” Roman states, walking from the end of the balcony and taking the throne on Hunter’s right.
He lounges in it, slinging one leg over the arm, all lazy insouciance, a smirk playing around his plush lips.
“Almost showtime.” He looks directly at me as he says the words, giving me a wink that sends another shudder running through me.
I tear my gaze away, my heart feeling like it’s in my throat as I stare at the door to the stairway.
My skin itches, and I shift in Hunt’s lap, earning a grunt and his arms clamping tighter around me.
I don’t know how to feel about seeing Nikolai again.
Excitement thrums in my veins, the memories of our brief time together filling my head with images that have my thighs clenching, but then the heartache follows, leaving me hollow.
He left me, just like my mum. Just like my dad who said it was for my own safety, and look how that turned out, I’m sat in the lap of a gang leader having given my body over to him and his men as a plaything.
Even if it feels right to be with Hunt and the twins, the circumstances are so fucking wrong it’s not funny.
How am I meant to act when Nikolai walks through that door? Shit, I’m a hot mess, all churned up and feeling like I don’t know what’s up or down anymore.
“Breathe, Peaches,” Hunter commands just as the door to the stairway opens, and I take a gasping inhale when an unknown man walks through. He’s huge, a large scar running down his left cheek, his dark eyes menacing as they sweep the area, pausing when they see me sitting on Hunter’s lap.
Something flickers in his eyes, something that doesn’t terrify me like I expect when faced with a massive Russian gangster. I slowly exhale the breath I took in, my body deciding there’s no threat before my mind catches up.
Movement behind him has my gaze snapping, locking with familiar chocolate eyes, and just like that, I’m frozen, trapped by his intense stare as he walks through the door.
It’s like everything else ceases to exist as he looks into my soul, a fierce pain in my heart bringing tears to my eyes.
My mind knows that we can’t have him, but my soul refuses to accept defeat, still believing that somehow we will be together.
He left you. My brain is trying to regain some control and latching onto the hurt of his rejection, however well meaning.
“Solnishko,” he breathes out, and I see fucking red, all the mixed-up emotions morphing into a single one; pure rage.
I’m leaping out of Hunter’s lap before he can stop me, fuelled by anger at how fucking shitty life can be, and Nikolai is the embodiment of all that pain and hurt.
Crack!
His head whips to the side as my palm makes contact, the sharp sting bringing me back to the moment, the hot tears that are flowing down my cheeks like a river that won’t be damned.
“Do not touch her, Dima,” Nikolai grits out, turning his head to face me. Red glistens at the corner of his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the blood as his fierce eyes bore into mine. His gaze burns, my chest heaving as the anger starts to change into a burning lust.
Clearly ruled by my whirling emotions, I surge to him, my lips slamming against his as my hands tangle into his woollen coat, my fingers grasping the lapels and pulling him closer.
It’s not a pretty kiss, it’s as savage as my anger from moments ago was, my teeth nicking his lips, copper making my taste buds tingle.
He quickly returns my embrace with a deep groan that does terrible things to my core, his hands slipping under my jumper, and the shock of their coldness has me gasping and moaning in equal measure. He uses his grip to tug me closer, his tongue matching mine, stroke for stroke as he devours me.
I press my body against his, my hands leaving his coat to delve underneath and seek his skin.
I need to feel him, even if it’s just under my fingertips.
Pushing past his suit jacket, I tug his shirt from his trousers, gasping into his mouth when I make contact with hot skin.
Pressing my hands against his firm abs, I inhale the hiss that falls from his lips as my fingers trace up them.
But it’s the pained groan that has me pulling back sharply, my brows dipping as I take in the way the skin around his eyes is tight. It’s then that I notice the purple along his jaw and his puffy lip that’s scabbed over, which can’t be from just my slap.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, my gaze darting over his face, then darting down to where my hands disappear under his clothes.
“I’m fine, Malyshka,” he tells me, but I just scoff, shoving his clothes up to reveal his body to me.
“Fucking hell, Nik,” I gasp, his torso a patchwork of mottled purples and blues, his tattoos almost hidden in the dark colours. “Who did this?” I glance back up, a weight deep in my stomach as the truth settles in my bones. “Sergi.”
“I’m fine,” he states again, gently taking my hands from his body into his and pulling them away.
His clothing falling back down, hiding his injuries, but I’d know Sergi’s handiwork anywhere.
I had to patch Nikolai up enough times when we were younger to know that this was a punishment for something and no doubt Sergi didn’t even raise a hand, having always used his henchmen to do his dirty work.
“Why?” I ask, his grip tightening in mine, his jaw clenching, and a horrible, sticky feeling coats the back of my throat, a part of me guessing the answer before he even has the chance to lie. “Because of me? Because I escaped?”
“It’s fine,” he says, not releasing my hands as his eyes rove over my face.
“Stop saying that! None of this fucking fine, Nik! Not a single fucking thing has been fine since I came home yesterday!” I’m yelling but I can’t stop, even though I should because what I said isn’t strictly true.
Finally having Nikolai was more than fine, and being with the Shadows hasn’t been exactly dreadful.
Tears sting my eyes again, but I’m so fucking sick of crying, of having to react to the shit that just keeps coming, that I refuse to let them fall.
“I know, Solnishko.” He sighs, pulling me into his body before encasing me in his arms, his juniper, black pepper, and vetiver scent washing over me and helping to soothe my frantic pulse. “But we have to play the hand we’re dealt, at least until we can change our cards.”
I close my eyes, just breathing him in as my arms gently hug him back. “I’m just so tired, Nik, and it’s only been a day.”
His lips brush against the top of my head in a soft caress that has my eyes blinking open, locking gazes with Rowan, his brown eyes not dissimilar to Nikolai’s, just a little more amber in them.
I freeze, expecting to see anger in them.
I am in the arms of the enemy after all, and I did agree to be the Shadows’ just an hour ago.
But there’s no censure, just his usual calm way of studying what’s before him, taking in all the information before acting on it. He gives me a small nod, and I watch as he walks towards us, Nikolai and the guys either side of him—yep, I’d missed that there was another one—stiffening.
Rowan steps up behind me, and I’d be lying if I said that my body didn’t melt into Nikolai more at having them both caging me in. There’s something comforting about being between these two powerful men, something that settles the frenetic energy that swirls inside me.
“She’s ours now too,” Rowan states simply, his voice sure and unhurried. My eyelids flutter when his hand strokes down my hair, his thumb caressing the side of my neck. “And she’ll need all of us to keep her safe.”
Lips press against my head before Rowan’s warmth leaves, Nikolai taking a deep inhale that has my cheek moving up and down as it rests on the soft wool covering his chest. He uncurls his arms, pulling away just enough to look into my face, searching.