Kissed by Shadows: A Forced Proximity Dark Mafia Romance (The Shadowmen Book 1)

I watch as the twins lead Iris into our flat, the endorphins still racing around my body from the epic blow job she just gave me. Shit. I probably shouldn’t have done that, because I owe Iris more than I can ever repay.

But my crew don’t know the details of what happened with Willow last year, only the twins do, and I can’t be seen giving someone a free ride, no matter how gorgeous they are, inside and out. I am not a good man. I have done some terrible things to protect those I love and I would do them again. Forcing her onto her knees is the least of a very long list.

And fuck, having her lips wrapped around me after fantasising about it for months has me growing hard again.

Growling, I swipe my hand through my hair as my phone buzzes in my back pocket.

Unknown: I need you to take care of her, protect her. I will owe you a debt, one that I will happily pay once I’m able to. But know that whatever you ask for, will be yours.

My eyebrows droop. Who the fuck is this? My mind goes back to what she told us, about what happened this afternoon between her and that Russian, Nikolai Petrov. My lip curls, the thought of anyone else touching her heating my veins, making my fists clench. Could this be from him? But then that would go against his father’s wishes if she truly was sold to them.

We’re now in the middle of a potentially explosive situation involving the Russian Bratva, a group not to be fucked with. Their reach is vast, their power great. I’d like to think we can hold our own, especially with the twin’s connections to the Irish families, but can we withstand the might of the Russians?

Sighing, I realise it’s a nonissue. I would have protected her either way. Partly because of what she did for Willow and partly because there’s something so pure and wholesome about Iris Montgomery that should be treasured and protected at all costs. She has a brightness that should never be dimmed, a light that shouldn’t be snuffed out.

So we will protect her and keep her safe, whatever it takes.

IRIS

Roman opens the door to one of the flats before flicking the light switch on, and my mouth drops open as my eyes adjust to the low lighting. It’s fucking huge, and I turn my head to try and make sense of the space.

“We knocked through the four flats on this floor to create one big living space,” Roman tells me, laughing when he looks back to see my face. “Welcome to our home, Princess.”

“It’s lovely,” I whisper, truly meaning the words. It’s not got the traditional details that my home has, having been built far more recently, but it’s light and airy with a beautiful blue Persian rug covering light wood flooring in the centre of the large living room. The strange shape adds a quirkiness that I love, and the furniture looks comfy and well used, worn in a way that makes it feel like home.

“Glad you like it, Little Lamb,” Rowan drawls from behind me, his hand taking mine and tugging me further in, causing a pleasurable shiver to run through me. There’s a darkness about Rowan, like a mist of danger that has my body telling me there’s a predator here that we should avoid. Yet for some reason, it also draws me closer, like a moth to a flame, and I find my fingers curling around his, holding his hand as if we’re sweethearts.

Roman doesn’t let go of my other hand, and I’m not hating being in the middle of these two, warmth suffusing my body at the twin manwich I seem to be in the middle of.

Down, Evangeline!

“Let’s give her the grand tour,” Roman suggests while sweeping his arm out. “This is the main living room. There’s also an office space, a home cinema, and a games room.” I can see the openings to those three rooms from here. “We also knocked through to make a large kitchen, Hunter loves to cook,” he continues as he pulls me towards a doorway, and I peer through to see a massive kitchen with all gleaming honey-coloured wood. There’s an island with four high chairs, plus a large oak dining table at one end, next to a window that looks out over the city.

“Bedrooms next,” Rowan whispers temptingly in my ear, and I can’t stop the shiver that cascades over my skin at the dirty promise in his words. They lead me through the lounge to a short hallway, pushing a door open to reveal a room painted a dark grey, black sheets covering an enormous four-poster bed. “This is my room.”

I take in the walls, pausing when my eyes catch on an entire wall covered in what looks like whips and paddles, and the dark chest of drawers beneath them. Heat fills my body as I trace over the leather, wondering what it would feel like to have those caressing my skin.

“One day I’ll show you,” Rowan purrs in my ear, and I swallow hard, my throat dry.

Did I speak the words aloud? Or could he just see my curiosity in my face? My mind rushes back to the knife he held against my throat earlier, the feel of the steel making me explode. Does he have more of those in here? And how else would he use them? And more to the point, why am I excited rather than scared at the idea of him using them on me?

“Let’s move on, she needs rest, brother,” Roman chides, breaking into my lust-filled thoughts and tugging me back out of the room and back down the hall. We go through another doorway before he pushes open a door to reveal a room painted a deep forest green with shades of green covering the same style four-poster bed as Rowan had. “This is me. Each bedroom has an en suite bathroom, and there’s a general bathroom too.”

“This room feels so calm,” I muse, and he flashes me a boyish grin that has my insides quivering.

“You’re welcome anytime, Princess,” he tells me, giving my hand a squeeze and then pulling me out of the room. Rowan is still holding my other hand tightly, and I really am enjoying the simple comfort it brings. They lead me through the living space, into another that looks more like an office with three desks. “That’s Hunter’s.” Roman points to a hallway off this room but we keep moving past. Guess I won’t be sneaking a peek at how the great Hunter Anderson likes to sleep. My mouth tingles at the taste of him that still lingers there, a taste that I wouldn’t mind experiencing again. Bastard.

We walk through the office space, entering another living room with a huge screen and a massive sectional facing it.

“The cinema,” Roman states. “What’s your favourite film?”

I pause, both of them stopping with me. “Memoirs of a Geisha.”

“Not seen that one,” he muses. “Let’s watch it next time.” I smile at him, appreciating the gesture to try and make me feel like I’m at home, or at least more comfortable. He steps closer, his eyes trained on my lips. “Absolutely stunning.” The fingers of his free hand come up, tracing my lips and leaving my nerves on fire.

“You’re getting distracted, brother,” Rowan teases from behind me, but his body suddenly presses against my back and I’m once again between the Kent twins. Heat fills my limbs, my heartbeat loud in my ears as their warmth somehow penetrates my clothes and heats my skin. Goddammit. I was not built for this kind of temptation.

“Can you blame me?” Roman asks, his eyes never leaving my lips as he rubs his thumb back and forth over it. My breath stutters out of me as Rowan wraps his arm and mine around me, using it to pull me away from his brother. Roman snarls, breaking the spell he wove over me, and I blink rapidly.

“You heard Hunt, she needs rest,” Rowan chastises, though there’s a slight edge to it, like he’s having to remind himself as much as he is his twin. A flush creeps up Roman’s neck, staining his cheeks an adorable red.

“Sorry, Princess. He’s right, I was being a dick,” he apologises, taking my hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.

“You don’t need to apologise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” I assure him, my voice breathier than I’d like. There’s also a part of me that is a little disappointed that he didn’t do anything that required an apology.

“Oh, trust me, Little Lamb, he was thinking about it.” Rowan chuckles, uncurling his arm from around me but keeping hold of my hand. “We both were.”

Suddenly, a yawn cracks my jaw almost in half, and both guys still.

“Oh, baby, let’s get you to bed,” Roman says gently, using his grip once more to lead me down yet another hallway and then pushes through a door. He hits the light switch, but instead of a full overhead light, various lamps dotted around the room come on, giving a soft glow that is soothing.

My eyes take in the soft cream walls, the bright Persian rugs that cover the floor, and the bed full of colourful cushions.

“This was Willow’s room,” Rowan states as I look around, immediately feeling at ease in this space.

“I knew she had good taste,” I comment, letting go of both their hands to take off my boots and walk around the space. It’s pretty big, clearly each bedroom has been extended too. Maybe two have been knocked together? There’s a door on one side, which I’m assuming is a bathroom, and all the furniture is mismatched, but it works.

“Her drawers and wardrobe are empty if you want to put your stuff there,” Roman invites, Rowan watching me as he places my bag on the floor.

“I’m not sure they’ll be much to fill it with,” I murmur, feeling a tightness in my chest at everything I’ve left behind as I glance down at the small bag. It’s silly, they’re just clothes, but they’re what made me…well, me. “I don’t know if I even have any pyjamas.”

“That issue can be solved right now, Princess.” I glance back as Roman grabs the hem of his T-shirt and tugs it over his head.

My lips part, my heartbeat loud in my ears as he stalks over to me, his inked-up torso on full display. His body is a work of art, each tattoo making up a patchwork of images on his defined pecs and abs that leave me speechless. They’re similar to Nikolai’s in that way, each one a single design, but the style is different. Unlike Nik’s, these are maybe a bit more sophisticated, a bit more detailed. My favourite is a butterfly just under the dip of his throat, the word ‘Devil’ inscribed underneath it and what I think might be lorel branches either side of it, but I honestly could spend hours studying each one.

He stops in front of me, his hand out, and offering me the T-shirt that he was just wearing. His lips are tugged up in a smirk, his eyes heated as he looks at me expectantly. Swallowing, I take the garment and almost moan at the warmth that still clings to the fibres.

“Thank you, Roman,” I manage to choke out, and his nostrils flare when I take the shirt from his hands.

“I like hearing my name from those pretty lips, Princess,” he replies, my cheeks heating when I remember what my lips were doing not that long ago, wrapped around Hunter’s large cock. “Good night, sweetheart.”

I still as he leans in, placing a soft kiss on my cheek, my eyelids fluttering at his nearness.

“Good night.” It’s barely a whisper, but then his equally inked-up back walks back out of the door.

“I’ve a feeling this is going to be so much fun, Little Lamb,” Rowan states, stepping towards me and stopping when my clenched hands brush his chest. I crane my neck back to look at him—tall bastard—and the amusement in his eyes makes them sparkle and shine. There’s a dark promise in his tone, something that has me wanting to run and be caught all at once. Rowan leaves me feeling deliciously on edge, like ice that’s run along hot skin. Like walking along the edge of a cliff in a strong wind, wondering if this next gust is going to be the one to throw you over the edge.

“What do you mean?”

He just smiles, the edge of darkness in his eyes causing tingles to erupt across my skin, then leans down and places a kiss on my other cheek. Turning on his heels, he stalks out of the room, taking his almost unsettling presence with him as he shuts the door behind him.

My entire body slumps as all the tension drains out of me, but I can’t help feeling a little bereft at finally being alone. It’s like I really am a lost little sheep, waiting for her masters to return. Scoffing at myself, I shake my head and make my way to the bed, dropping the T-shirt onto the soft blanket and then sitting down on the end.

Sleep. I need sleep, and things will look different in the morning. That’s what Dad used to say. I have to close my eyes and breathe through the sharp spike of pain that seems to accompany any thoughts of my father. My stomach churns at the thought of him running for his life, but there’s also a hollow feeling when I think of the fact that he didn’t take me with him. How can I be worried about someone who broke my heart? Or betrayed me? I’m not sure there will ever be a way to forgive him.

With a sigh, I take my coat and clothes off, draping them over the end of the bed before slipping Roman’s T-shirt on with just my knickers. It’s still a little warm, his scent washing over me in a calming wave that leaves me wanting to snuggle into the garment and never take it off. Then I pull back the covers and slip under them, leaving the lights on.

“It’ll all look better after I have some rest.”