Page 47 of Kings of Violence

“Give me a second. It’s not like these are slip-ons,” I tell him, pulling the boots on and buckling them tight. I lift my foot so I can examine them again. The fit is perfect, which is strange, but gift horses, etc.

As soon as they’re on, I follow him toward the door. “Where are we going, anyway?”

Yuri shrugs, the scowl still on his face. “Somewhere.”

He keeps walking, and I’m desperate enough to leave this room that I’m willing to see where the guy who patently hates me wants to go. If he was out to kill me, he probably wouldn’t have gotten me a new set of clothes.

Probably.

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “Fine, be cryptic,” I grumble. “It’s not like I won’t figure it out when we get there.”

He flips on the switch to the lights, and I quirk a brow as I take in the array of cars and motorcycles. The garage door smoothly slides open, and I glance out into the fresh air. It’s just past noon, and I don’t think I’ve appreciated how bright the sun is before now. I only look back when I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and I see Yuri holding out a helmet.

Helmets. Fuck.

“What now?” he barks when I don’t instantly take it from him.

“I’ve still never ridden a motorcycle,” I say slowly, my heart threatening to plummet into my chest. My mother is vehemently against them, calling them death traps and worse, and even though I’d been curious, I’m also wary of them.

I’d thought about hopping on his bike back then, but the prospect feels less adventurous, more terrifying, now that Yuri is soangry.

“Then today is your first day.” Yuri gives me a nasty smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

I flash a brittle smile at him. “Why don’t I believe you?” I shake my head. Putting me in danger means putting himself in danger… though I somehow suspect he’s an adrenaline junkie who wouldn’t care about that.

Yuri pushes the helmet at me, and I’m forced to take it. I watch as he walks over to one of the larger bikes.

“I am good at controlling the bike,” Yuri says as he strokes the seat. “Just don’t flail around or do anything stupid like attempt to jump off while we’re going sixty miles an hour.”

I scoff, but my heart is racing. “I won’t do anything dumb.” On purpose, anyway. I know there’s technique to driving a motorcycle, and I’m pretty sure that even applies to a passenger. I refuse to let him see how nervous I am, trying to hide my trembling hands beneath the helmet.

He passes me a pair of leather gloves too, and I’m grateful for the added protection. I don’t even want to imagine my body getting skinned in an accident.

Once I’m fully kitted out, the only thing left is to get on the damn bike. I stop in front of the large contraption, trying to gather the courage to get on.

I wonder if it’s the same one he’d driven the first day we’d met.

Yuri smirks at me. “What. You scared? Don’t worry, I hear it’s very ‘stimulating’ for women.”

“You’re disgusting,” I mutter. “Has anyone told you that? If they haven’t, they should.”

He helps me onto the bike, and I have to spread my legs wide — something he seems to be aware of, because his gaze falls between them.

Disgusting.

Yuri hops onto the bike as well, and I slide as far back on the seat as possible. I have no idea what to do with my hands, and I end up clenching them on my thighs.

Yuri puts his helmet on and glances over his shoulder at me. “You do need to hold on. Go with the flow when we go into curves, and don’t make any sudden movements to distract me.”

“Hold on to you?” I ask, a little dumbly, because where else am I going to hold on?

He gives me a look, and I’m glad for the way the helmet hides the flush in my cheeks.

“Yes, fine,” I say, closing the helmet’s visor. I reluctantly scoot up so I can wrap my arms around him. He’s warm against the front of my body, and the smell of leather is surprisingly appealing.

I quickly shut that thought away. There is nothing fucking appealing about Yuri anymore.

I tense when he squeezes my hand, more startled than anything else, but he doesn’t do anything beyond that.

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