Dirty Little Secrets (Kings of Bolten 1)

I coughed and sputtered when Hail withdrew from my mouth, his bitter taste staining my tastebuds.

He let out a soft laugh. “What’s wrong, rat?”

“N-nothing,” I answered, my hands trembling. I felt like I was going to throw up. In fact, bile burned my throat.

Hail tucked himself back into his pants and sat up. I didn’t bother looking at Tate.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Hail brushed his fingers along my cheek. “You did a great job. Best blow job I’ve ever had if I’m being honest.”

I didn’t say anything. If I did, I might actually throw up.

“Kiss me.” Hail leaned in.

I pressed my lips to his, allowing him to kiss me while saying a silent prayer I’d be able to leave soon. When he seemed satisfied, he pulled away and got to his feet. I swallowed and watched as he looked out his window.

“Fallon and Drake were on their way,” Tate’s deep voice called out as he lit a cigarette.

I flinched as he reached over and brushed my hair away from my face, a strange look in his eyes.

“Tate,” Hail snarled.

Tate dropped his hand from my face, his eyes darkening as he blew out smoke from the hit he’d taken. I gave a shiver beneath a look that said more than his words ever could.

“You don’t touch her unless I say you can.” At least Hail didn’t seem as clueless as I thought he was because his voice held a threatening note to it. That offered me some small sense of safety.

“Sorry.” Tate dragged his gaze from me and turned to Hail.

Hail locked eyes with me.

“Go back to your room. It’s nearly eleven.”

I got to my feet, swaying, and glanced at Tate who held my shirt in his hand.

“C-Can I have my shirt?” I murmured, reaching out for it.

Tate chuckled and pulled it away from me.

“Walk without it, rat.”

I snapped my attention to Hail. “You said if I did that, you’d let me have my shirt.”

Hail shrugged. “Guess I lied.”

“You asshole!” I shouted.

Hail was on me in an instant, his hand meeting my face in a loud crack. My ears rang from the hit, my cheek on fire as I fell to the floor. My vision wobbled as I tried to get back to my knees.

Hail was quick to stop me as he fisted my hair.

“Tupaya pizda,” he growled in Russian. “Never speak to me that way again. Do you understand?” He gave my head a painful shake.

“Fuck you.” I reached out and caught him in the face with my hand. Probably not my best idea because it ended with a kick to my ribs. I buckled over into a painful heap, trying to suck in air.

“What did you say to me, my sewer rat?”

“I. . .said. . .fuck. You.” The words came out stilted as I tried to catch my breath.

With a ferocious snarl, Hail reached down and yanked my hair, tugging my head back.