Page 8 of Owned By Shadows

“Motherfucker!” I snarl through clenched teeth, taking a second to just breathe as the pain consumes me.

“Let’s get you in the car,” Nik tells me softly, adjusting his grip so that he takes even more of my weight and guiding me to the waiting car once I can see straight.

He lets me take my time getting in, the inside spacious with seats facing each other. My door is shut as soon as I’m settled, Nik going around to the other side and climbing in the back with me, sitting on my good side. Dima gets in the driver’s seat, Andrei climbs in the back with us, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sits opposite us.

“You don’t need to look so pleased,” Nik grumbles, though a smile plays around his plush lips, which look red and kiss swollen. I swallow hard, my gaze dropping as my hand clenches into a fist in my lap.

I don’t regret the kiss. Fuck, I can’t wait to do it again, but there’s a thickness in my throat when I think about Hunt and Iris, back in England, thinking I’m dead.

“We need to get a message to them,” I state, looking up at Nik. His gaze softens, his hand reaching out and taking mine, lacing our fingers together. My eyelids flutter, the comfort of the simple gesture slowing my racing heart.

“We will,Lev, I swear it. Tonight, once we’re at the safe house, I’ll send her our co-ordinates,” he tells me, his gaze sincere and the skin around his eyes tight. I give his hand a squeeze, knowing that this is hard on him too. He’s trying to balance so much, keep so many plates spinning that a lesser man would crumble under the pressure.

“How long until we get there?” I ask him, resting my head back against the headrest, unable to hold it up anymore, exhaustion sweeping over me again.

“About four hours. You should rest,” Nik instructs, but my eyes are already closing. Shit, I’m like a fucking child, so weak.

Fingers brush down the side of my face before soft lips press against my forehead as darkness carries me under once more.

CHAPTER SIX

“WAKING UP” BY M J COLE

IRIS

Iflop on the sofa, my body tired but in the good way that only a walk can give. The weather was on our side today, warm with only a hint of a breeze as autumn colours the leaves. We didn’t go shopping in the end because the idea of facing all those people made me feel queasy, and as I told Hunt, we can order what we need online. So instead, we went for a lovely walk around Holland Park, having something to eat at a little cafe near the theatre.

My heart hurt when we passed the Chinese gardens, memories of Nik and Roman threatening to undo me, but I held it all at bay. I know it’s not the most healthy thing, and Julia keeps telling me to allow myself to feel the sadness. That it needs to be acknowledged and experienced, but it just hurts so damn much, and sometimes I just can’t face it.

It was getting dark when we arrived back, and the smell of cooking fills my nostrils as Hunt sets about making us dinnerlike the feeder he is. I don’t mind. His cooking is incredible, and it helps him to have something to focus on, some way to take care of us.

My new phone buzzes in my dress pocket. My dress is made from the softest corduroy, and it’s a loose pinafore style, which allows for my bump.

I pull the device out as Rowan comes back into the room, taking a seat next to me and peering at the screen.

Unknown

59.467408, 33.679441

My heart gives a patter inside my chest, something tugging at my memory as I stare at the random numbers.

“What’s that, Lamb?” Rowan asks, and I glance away from the phone screen to look at him.

“I don’t know,” I admit, looking back down at the screen, at the numbers that I feel like I recognise somehow. “But this looks familiar, like I know it but can’t remember.”

He shuffles closer, holding out his hand. “May I?” I give him the phone, watching as he does the witchcraft he does, his brows dipped in concentration. “I can’t track the sender, but when you put these numbers into Google, a place four hours away from St. Petersburg pops up. These are the co-ordinates.”

As the words fall from his lips, a memory slams into me, one of my last memories of Nikolai before he went away to Russia and I was sent to finishing school.

“Just like a house has an address, Malyshka,” Nik says to me as we sit at a table in the library of my house, the rain hitting the glass windowpanes outside. He’s got a map out in front of him and he’s pointing to a place in Russia. “Every singlepoint on earth can be specified by their longitude and latitude co-ordinates.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words because my gaze keeps drifting to his beautiful face, and a small smile plays around his lips, like he’s aware of my attention and the blush that fills my cheeks.

“And what is that place, the one you’re pointing to?” I ask, dragging my eyes from his face once more and looking down at the map, at his long finger on it.

“That is a secret place, Malyshka,” he whispers. “One that no one knows about, except me and now you.”

My gaze flicks up to his, my eyes wide and my lips parted. “Why does it need to be a secret?” My voice is hushed, some part of me knowing that it’s important that no one overhears us.

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