Page 50 of Kings of Cruelty

Sierra puts the first aid kit away, erasing the reminder of the whipping, but I can’t dismiss the fight as easily. “Kyran never wanted me to help, but then, he’s a stubborn asshole,” she says, sounding wistful.

“I bet your brother got into more fights than I did,” I say. I’m suddenly jealous of Kyran, that he had Sierra there to patch him up and take care of him whenever the days were bad. All I’d ever had was myself, until Kotya took me under his wing—and I’m not going to go crying to him about a few scrapes.

She laughs. “Yeah. And even more that I don’t know about.” Her expression sobers. “He was pretty young when he got indoctrinated into this life.” She eyes me, and I can tell she wants to ask me something, but she shrugs instead. “I guess it’s the way it goes.”

“Is it? I don’t know how it goes for others.” I flex my fingers and watch the bandages bend around the movement.

“Stop that,” Sierra admonishes. She takes my hands into hers and kisses the tops gently. “Come on. Let’s lie down.” She smiles at me. “You don’t have to talk. But I’m willing to listen.”

No wonder I’d been attracted to her. I nod and let her lead me to the bed. I pull her close to me, and I breathe in her scent, letting it comfort me.

She’s probably fishing for something. Information, or sex, or whatever it is women want from guys like me.

I don’t care though. I’m glad to have her in my arms.

“I don’t like punching people,” I admit quietly.

She smooths her fingers through the longer strands of my hair. “You have to do a lot of violent things in this line of work,” she says. “Probably a lot of things you don’t like.”

I snort, and in quiet Russian, I say, “I don’t want to do any of this. I hate that he’s making me do this, but I can’t betray him either. And if we fail, if we go against his father, how can we protect you?”

Sierra gives me a strange look. “Now in English? I understood maybe two words.”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Only a famous Russian saying. I can’t translate it.”

She looks skeptical, but she doesn’t push. “How old were you when you started doing all of… this?” she asks instead. “You said you grew up in an orphanage, and… you found Kotya. What were you doing before then?”

I pull her closer against me. “Kotya saved me. I was… I had nothing. Kicked out of the orphanage. I had a shit job, could barely afford food and rent. But I always liked motorcycles. And I got it into my stupid head to steal one.” I laugh, even though the sound resembles a sob. “It’s a real bad idea to steal from a gang, Sierra.”

She keeps stroking my hair. “Yeah. Pa never told me the ins and outs of gang life, but I know he wouldn’t have tolerated that.” She shudders. “And he’s… I didn’t see him angry often, but he was really fucking scary when he was. Even to me.”

I remember how her brothers were to me, and neither of them compared to William Winters.

“Kotya stopped them from doing worse to me,” I say, burying my head against her shoulder. “I owe him so much. If not for him… even if I hadn’t died, my life would benothing.”

“I’m glad he stopped them,” Sierra says. “I’m glad he brought you here, too.” She sighs. “I know things didn’t start out the best with us, and things are hard right now with… the pregnancy and all… but I do care about you, Yura.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, looking her in the eyes. Then I crack a smile. “Which isspasiboin Russian.”

She repeats the word. “And what’s ‘you’re welcome’?” she asks, offering a smile of her own.

“That’spozhaluysta,” I say.

“Poshalusta,” she repeats, and I wrinkle my nose at the accent.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she chides me. “I’m trying.” She leans in to kiss my nose, which is a surprisingly endearing gesture, then says, “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day, I think.”

I wonder if she’ll be this affectionate when she sees the state Nikolai is in.

I’ll be grateful that I have her for now.

FOURTEEN

Sierra

I’m bored,restless, uncomfortable… and fucking horny.

The most annoying thing about pregnancy has to be this constant series of changes, the way my body betrays me time and again. I can’t stop the nausea, and despite the waves of illness, I also can’t stop the bizarre urge to find one of the guys and have them fuck me senseless.

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