Page 100 of Kings of Violence

Before I can decide whether I want to fuck her, I hear Yuri and Nikolai approaching, speaking with each other in Russian.

Nikolai looks between us as they enter. “Getting started without us? I thought we were talking about some party.”

“Some party we absolutely should not be thinking about going to,” Sierra grumbles. “But nooo.”

“We’re going to one of those fancy carnival parties. With the masks and feathers.” I check the invite again. “Formal wear required. You can’t show up in leather, Yura.”

Yura scoffs. “I don’t always wear leather.”

“Yes, you do,” Nikolai says at the same time that Sierra scoffs at him.

“Konstantin wants us to go in and snoop in Don Marino’s computers right in his mansion,” Sierra says. “Someonepleasetalk him out of that plan, at least. I’m too young to die.”

“Sounds fun,” Yura says. “Adventurous!” He smirks at Sierra. “You just don’t want to dress up.”

“That too,” she agrees. “I don’t even know what kind ofcarnivalthis is. Like, is it Brazilian? Venetian? Circus? You’d think he’d specify a little more, unless he wants to humiliate people who don’t show up in the right clothes. I’ll just wear a little black dress and a mask. Can’t go wrong with a little black dress.”

“That sounds boring,” Yura argues. He reaches out to stroke Sierra’s side. “We gotta do feathers, at least.”

Nikolai shrugs. “It’s probably just a generic fancy masquerade. I doubt he’d demand a complicated, culturally specific costume.”

Sierra looks like she wants to protest, but instead, she lets out anexasperated sigh. “Whatever. As long as I’m not showing skin, I’ll wear some feathers. On top of clothing,” she hurries to add.

I meet Nikolai’s eyes, and I know we’re on the same page.

Sierra is going to look amazing in the outfit we choose for her.

And yes, there’s going to be a lot of skin showing.

TWENTY-THREE

Nikolai

Yuri and Sierraare both rolling their eyes. I glower at the camera’s screen and shake my head.

“Do it right, guys,” I say. “We want these photos.”

“I don’t want this photo,” Sierra says immediately.

Yuri shrugs. “I don’t care.”

Even with their annoyed expressions, they look fucking hot together. Sierra is gorgeous in her blue dress that drapes down her front — with our brand on full display on her chest. She isn’t wearing a bra, because there’s no bra that wouldn’t be visible with how that dress reveals half her stomach.

She isn’t amused, but then, no one expected her to be. She’s hot, though, and that’s all we care about — even Yuri, who’s complaining about his own attire. I’m not sure what to make of my strange attraction to him. Out of leather, he looks like a completely different person. The suit fits him perfectly, of course, and the dark purple shirt beneath it is a nod to the theme of the party. His long, bleached blond hair is tied back in a half pony-tail, and he’s clean-shaven.

“At least we let you choose your own shoes,” I point out toSierra, who’s wearing a pair of strappy, glittery heels that match the dress almost perfectly.

She looks good in sapphire blue, too. It complements her skin tone, and it makes her match the rest of us with our gem tones.

I have to admit that Konstantin did a good job picking out our outfits.

Especially Sierra’s, even though it’s distracting to look at her plunging neckline and the slit that goes up obscenely high. The few feather accents do nothing to help cover her up.

“Gee, thanks,” she says sarcastically. “Because that makes up for the fact that I’m wearing a washcloth.” She reaches up, touching the brand, and I can tell that’s more of what she’s concerned about.

It’s more than a washcloth… but admittedly not by much.

“Come on. Yuri, get your arms on her waist. Give me something sexy,” I say, angling the camera on its tripod.

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