Page 52 of Claimed By a King

Before I can decide if I’m curious enough to ask, Irina explains, “The Reapers only have one patching event a year, and it’s coming up in two weeks.”

When I notice everyone looking expectantly at me, I clear my throat. “Oh?” I don’t bother to feign curiosity.

I only ask because they look like I should, and I’m terrified of angering Gunner. Just because he isn’t here doesn’t mean he won’t find out if I’ve somehow behaved wrong.

“Yeah,” Irina continues. “It’s on Devil’s Night.”

“Devil’s Night?” I ask.

One of the women sniggers and looks up from the pumpkin she’s slicing into. “Bet the high-class cunt doesn’t know what that is.”

Once upon a time, her words would have offended me—maybe even pissed me off. I’d feel like I had to defend myself by explaining that of course I know, I just hadn’t fully realized it’s October.

Sure, I have my day count, but this is one of those situations where knowing and realizing is very different.

“Watch your mouth!” Irina snaps, surprising the fuck out of me. “You all know how Gunner’s been treating her. Plus, who the fuck amongst you ever took the time to answer her when she asked for the date? Cut Zoe some slack or I’ll fucking cut you. Understood?”

They all cringe and wear matching expressions of fear under the heat of Irina’s temper.

That all pales in comparison to the shock I feel at having her come to my rescue. That just doesn’t… nope. Irina isn’t Alana or Mama C. She might be Mama Irina, as she wants to be called, but her morals are as skewed and rotten as any of the Reapers. She’s definitely not the kind to defend me just for the hell of it.

“Sit down,” she urges, softly. Without waiting for my answer, she gently pulls me over to a chair and pushes me down. “Do you want something to eat?”

I don’t trust my mouth not to spew shit, so I keep my jaw clamped shut andshake my head.

“Sweety,” Irina laughs. “You have to eat something. Or do you prefer a smoothie? I have this amazing recipe for a strawberry and coconut one that I swear by. I was just about to make myself one so I’d be happy to make you one as well.”

Feeling very much on the spot, I nod once, but still don’t verbalize my answer.

While Irina goes to make the smoothie, I watch the women work. Some are busy carving pumpkins, and others look like they’re making some kind of posters. I can’t see them properly from where I’m sitting.

I could get up and move closer, but that would mean getting up from the chair that’s perfectly placed. It’s against the wall, and I can see all the exits from here. Which means no one can sneak up on me. So, yeah, I don’t move. Hell, I barely breathe.

When Gunner mentioned spending time with Irina, I was fully prepared for her brand of abuse and nastiness. This… whatever game she’s playing at, I hate that I think it might work. With each nice word, my body relaxes a little more—completely ignoring my mind screaming to keep my guard up.

“Here you go,” Irina says, again sounding kind as she hands me the glass with the pink drink. Not trusting her at all, I sniff it, which makes her laugh. “Do you want to swap glasses?”

I’m just about to say yes, but then I realize she could be counting on that, and maybe did something to the glass she’s holding.

“That won’t be necessary,” I mutter. “As long as you drink from both.”

There’s begrudging respect in her eyes as she takes the glass I’m holding and sips from that and the one in her hand in quick succession.

“Happy now?” Her tone isn’t accusing, it’s teasing.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I quip before I can think better ofit. “I mean—”

“It’s okay, Zoe,” she says softly. “I know what you meant, and I know you’re not happy. I’ve talked with Rusty about your situation—”

“You have?” I blurt out.

She moves closer and lowers her voice. “I have. We both know that Gunner’s being… well, what he’s doing to you isn’t fucking okay.” At the expression of complete and utter disbelief on my face, she cringes slightly. “Okay, so I’ll never claim that I or any of the Reapers are good people. But even we have limits.”

Now that’s a fucking laugh. They sell people just for money. Actually, there’s little they don’t do in the name of the almighty dollar. So why would Gunner raping me be the line they won’t cross?

“Look, Rusty’s sorry he hasn’t stepped in until now. But he feels responsible, and that’s why he’s taking Gunner away for the afternoon.”

“Right,” I mumble. Now I definitely don’t believe her.

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