Page 82 of Owned By Shadows

“Yes, but it’s kinda sweet in a serial killer way,” he tells me, and Rowan scoffs behind us.

“I don’t think there’s anything unreasonable about a skin suit,” he remarks casually. “I’d offer to get you one, but no one else touches you, and if I took Hunt’s, he’d be dead, so…”

“Nice to know you’ve given it some thought,” Hunt drawls, and I giggle. I love my dark twin.

“Love you, Roo,” I say, looking past Hunt’s broad shoulder and blowing Rowan a kiss.

“Love you too, Lamb.”

“So, are you going to tell me what happened to leave those marks on yours and Nik’s faces?” I know something was up. Notonly is Rowan’s lip swollen and bleeding, he also has several cuts on his face and a nasty bruise on his jaw.

“Later,” Hunt commands, a pointed look at the people around us. People we don’t know or trust.

We reach the exit and find several vehicles waiting. Two black SUVs and two military jeeps.

“We go in one,” Hunt orders. “Dima, Andrei, and Bubby, you go in the other.”

No one argues, and we find ourselves lucky in a seven-seater, with me in the centre, Nik and Rowan on either side of me, Hunt in the front passenger, and Roman in the back. We have a uniformed guy driving. He introduced himself as Corporal Rimes.

We’re silent for the forty minutes or so it takes to arrive at the apartment Nik and Rowan have rented for us, my lids still a little heavy, so I rest my head on Nik’s shoulder for most of it and doze, Rowan’s hand on my thigh.

“What’s the date?” I ask as we pull up outside of the converted warehouse, which I think they said looks out over the Thames.

“Fifteenth of December, why, Peaches?” Hunt asks, and I sit up, blinking the sleep from my eyes.

“Did I ever tell you my birthday was on Christmas Eve?” I say, and they all turn to look at me. “Dad always said I was the best Christmas present.”

There’s a dull throb inside my chest as I say the words. It’s a weird sort of situation. If my dad hadn’t left and sold me to Sergi, I wouldn’t have gone through everything I have in the past eleven months, but then also it’s unlikely that I would be with them all right now, and that hurts more than his betrayal. Though I’m still unsure what I would say, how I would feel if he turned up one day.

“Yes, you are,” Nik states, bringing my hand up to his lips and placing a kiss on my knuckles. “And we will celebrate it, and Christmas too.”

I swallow, realising that I didn’t think we’d be able to do any celebrating of anything before Sergi is dealt with. And then there’s the baby, which isn’t due until the second of January, but there’s the very real likelihood I’ll go into labour before then.

“Let’s get inside,” Hunt says gently, and after thanking the Corporal, we all get out, back into the frozen mid-December air.

A warm wool coat is draped over my shoulders as soon as I exit the car, smelling of juniper, black pepper, and vetiver. “Thank you, Nik.”

“I’ll always take care of you,Solnishko,” he tells me, wrapping his arm around me and leading me towards the large warehouse doors. “Welcome home.”

“Is this where you’ve been staying?” I ask as Rowan opens a smaller door that’s cut into the original large wooden doors, which were obviously used for goods given we’re in an old industrial part of the city.

“No, this place Sergi has no idea about,” Nik replies, quickly ushering me in as the cars drive off into the night.

“Our penthouse on the other side of the river is where he thinks we’re staying, where we have been staying,” Rowan adds, flicking a switch, and I have to hold in a gasp at the stunning space before me.

It’s all metal beams and old weathered wood, and although the ceilings are high and there are lots of windows that overlook the river, it feels homey and is full of the exotic soft finishings that I love.

“Do you like it,Solnishko?”Nik’s voice is hesitant, and I look up at him with tears in my eyes.

“It’s perfect. Our first home.”

My throat tightens at that. This is our first home, for all of us. The flat Hunt and the twins have is lovely, but it’s not Nik’s, whereas this is. I can see it in the touches of Russian culture around us. There’s a set of colourful Russian dolls on the bookcases that span an entire wall and have an honest-to-god ladder on a rail against them with an icon in an elaborate gold frame, and an old shop sign in Cyrillic mounted on one of the exposed brick walls.

There are also touches that speak of my Shadows. A gleaming stainless steel and wood kitchen for Hunt to cook in, a desk with what looks like a DJ setup for Roman, and another desk with monitors for Rowan.

“We’ve started to make it baby-safe,” Hunt tells me, and I turn my watery gaze to him. “And there’s a beautiful enclosed garden, but we can change anything you want.”

“I love it,” I tell him, tearing my gaze away from his beautiful emerald eyes to look at our house once more. “How long have you been working on it?”

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