by Amo Jones
I tilt my head back, swallowing my wine and relishing in the tangy dry bite that coats my throat.
“Sass?” Lucifer mutters.
Callan laughs, tilting her head back and turning in Kill’s grip, wrapping her legs around him. Rage simmers deep in my belly.
“Sorry,” I whisper, bringing my attention back to him. “Yeah, I’m not much of a talker. I guess being an only child will do that.”
“Ah.” He rests his head back against his seat. “So you’re an only child? Parents?”
I shake my head, sipping more wine. “Dead.”
“Sorry about that.” He shuffles.
I shrug, ignoring the laughter coming from Callan across the way. I have to fight the urge to not make a scene. Then he wins. Killian is all about games, and I have no doubt that this is one of them. He told me himself that he would never choose her, so maybe I need to just remind him what he’s missing by having her on his lap.
I swallow the rest of my drink, pouring another, and downing it. Liquid courage.
Lucifer is talking to another girl beside him, I recognize her as one of the Angels, I’m not really sure, and when Perse comes stumbling toward me, my hand goes out to catch her.
“Sassy!” Perse giggles, pulling me up to my feet. She looks me up and down. “I am digging that dress, girl! What you got under there?”
I laugh, the alcohol possessing me in a whole new way. I’ve been drunk a lot, but never while I’ve been in Mayhem. It was more a self-preservation reason why I didn’t, but I guess with a wounded ego, I’m feeling like the cure might be held inside a bottle of Cristal. “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard starts playing and I turn her in my grip, dancing. I run my fingers through my hair and pop a couple buttons off the middle of my jacket.
The laughing stops.
The chorus drops and I move my body to the beat with Perse not far behind me. I wriggle the jacket around my shoulders, not caring about everyone around, though I’m well aware all eyes are on us. I pop the last button off and flick it open as the chorus drops and swing my head back.
Perse giggles, running the palm of her hand down my belly and wriggling to the ground until she’s between my legs. I grab onto her hair as I find Killian. We’re like damn heat seekers.
He’s already watching me, with his gaze narrowed in challenge. Callan is still on his lap, her smirk mocking me.
I wink at her. And him. The trick is to never display what affects you. There are too many people who would rather torment you with your weakness, than acknowledge you for your triumphs.
The chorus comes back again, and I flick my hair around and drop to the ground just as Perse grabs the bottle of Cristal and pours it all over her belly.
I laugh, shaking my head and reaching for her. King will kill her, and me, if he comes out and sees her like this.
“Get up!” I yell into her ear, but she shakes her head. “No!”
I roll my eyes.
“Sassskiiiaaaaa, dance with me! You’re the only one who can beat me in a dance.”
She’s lying, but I dance with her anyway because well, because I love her, and if she’s going down, she may as well go down beside a friend. The black lace bra and boy shorts I’m wearing underneath aren’t underwear, they’re a little more modest than that, but still, a good choice for tonight since I decided to half strip. I know how it is here. How relationships will never really work because we all, for a lack of a better word, have most likely fucked each other. Perse and King are the exception and will only ever be the exception.
I drink more, as “Big Poppa” starts playing, and I swerve around, zoning in on Kyrin, who is minding his business near the fire. I usually stay far away from Kyrin. Kyrin is the type of male that you just don’t approach. It’s not that he thinks he’s too good for you—though that is part of it—it’s more that his darkness comes off as unattainable.
Tonight, though, he will have to do because he’s seated right beside Killian and Callan. I’ll make it hard for Killian to ignore me if I have to, so I move toward Kyrin. I don’t want to be that girl, but the noticeable dig at me by having Callan on top of him, mixed with the expensive champagne, I’m feeling a little manic.
He notices what I’m doing, his body language shifting. As I get closer and closer to their group, his obvious satisfaction flashes over his face in supreme confidence. “Hellhound,” he grins, leaning back on his chair with his arms stretching over the top of the chairs beside him.
My lips curve in a slow and sexy smirk before I turn my back on him and grind my ass into Kyrin’s crotch. I know that if Killian goes to bed with Callan tonight, in the heavily intoxicated state that I’m in right now, I will end up going to bed with another man. Or woman. Who even knows at this point.
“Magic Stick” by Lil Kim starts playing and I turn to face Killian, who is watching me dance up on a seated Kyrin, while Callan is still on his lap. He has a red lollipop in his mouth and a slight smirk on his lips. He’s challenging me. I know this. Only he doesn’t know that I don’t enter into contests that I don’t think I’ll win.
I push off Kyrin’s knees and lean forward, pulling it out of his mouth while popping it into my own. Sliding back against Kyrin, I continue grinding to the beat with his hands running up my inner thigh. He squeezes around my hips, yanking me closer to him, my back to his chest.
His lips graze over my ear, my focus going straight to Killian again. The flame from the fire manages to reflect all of the sharp angles of his face. “If you don’t get off my lap in three seconds, I’m going to drag you back to our RV with Kenan in tow, and we’ll both fuck you until your fingernails are embedded into my wall. Trust me, baby girl, there are plenty there to show you…”
My eyes stay on Killian. His smirk gone and his hands unlatched from Callan. He obviously knows that Kyrin doesn’t fuck around, and since he would have been expecting me to use Keaton or Kenan to get to him, he’s probably thrown off.
I smirk. “One.”
Killian holds my stare defiantly.
“Two.”
I turn to Kyrin, leaning into his lips. His tattooed hands drag up my back as he leans forward.
“Th—” A hand grips around my wrist, yanking me off Kyrin. I crash into Killian’s chest. Tilting my head up to face him, I raise my eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
Killian’s jaw clenches, a smirk touching the corner of his mouth. He leans down to my ear. “You want Kyrin?”
I freeze. What is he doing?
I don’t answer.
“You think I want Callan?” he further adds, inhaling deeply into the crook of my neck. Cold shivers break out over my flesh at his touch. “Then let’s go, Hellhound. Let’s play a game.” He unleashes me, grabbing a sulking Callan off the chair.
Killian nudges his head at Kyrin. “Time to go, fucker.”
Kyrin claps his hands. “Finally. Some fun up in this bitch.”
I want to ask what I missed, but when Kyrin picks me and my discarded clothes up off the ground while flinging me over his shoulder, I’m almost certain he’s answered the question for me. He’s drunk, or has been drinking, so his attitude has shifted to one that I can handle.
The RV door swings open and Maya, Kenan, and Val are inside, with Kyrin, Callan, and Killian stepping in.
I know that whatever the fuck happens once I set foot into the bus will change something.
Probably for the worst.
But how can I claim that this is who I am and what I am if I don’t show that this is what I am?
I take the first step.
The bus is hotboxed with weed, smoke thick as sin. I can see Maya and Kenan on the sofa, sucking on a blunt between them, with Val kissing Maya’s neck.
I challenged Killian, and he’s about to end the fucking game and use my ass as a victory flag.
Killian takes a seat on the kitchen counter with his legs dangling off, lighting the end of his cigarette. I ball my fist as Callan stands in between his spread legs.
/>
He opens them wider for her, his eyes landing on mine. “Trippin’” by Khalid and Buddy starts playing, and he slowly lowers his mouth to hers, blowing smoke into her mouth. My stomach rolls. I feel sick.
I watch as his hand, the hand that I’m so acquainted with, massages the front of her throat.
Someone brushes against my back as lips come to the crook of my neck. “Use me, baby girl. Harness your power and bring him down.”
I lick my lips and reach backward, tilting my head for Kyrin to bite down on the flesh of my neck. I don’t wince. Kyrin’s hand comes up to my shoulder, brushing my jacket off until it’s pooled at my feet.
Turning around to face Kyrin, I search his corpse-like expression. “Do you prefer girls or guys?”
His lips curve. “They’re all the same when they’re dead.”
I stand on my tippy toes, my lips brushing his. “Answer the question.”
He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth. “Girls.”
I lick him across his lips, leaning back. “You’re so tormented.”
He glares at me. “All the best kinds are.”
I flick my tongue under his sharp jaw, and then slowly start trailing my tongue down his chest, my hand tucking beneath his pants. His finger comes up and trails down my breast, my nipple hardening under his touch. This is easy. Kyrin is just like how it feels to sleep with every other guy. Bleak. Dead.
Killian was different. Why is he different?
With that thought, I squeeze my eyes closed. I can’t do this.
Kyrin leans into my lips, his words moving over mine as his tongue works my lips. “You should run now, or I won’t let you out of here, but know this…” He pauses, and my eyes open onto his. Pain flashes over me when I realize how stupid I was coming here. I let myself feel something for someone who could never reciprocate it. I felt something for someone who sees women as disposable. Kyrin shakes his head. “I’m only telling you this because I’m drunk as fuck and you’re looking lost. You’re wasting your time. Build a wall, but this time use your secrets and pain as the foundation on where you build it, that way, it won’t crumble. Never underestimate the power of pain.” He pauses, leaning in until his nose touches mine. “Run.”
I swipe my dress up from the floor and shrug it on, bolting for the door. I don’t want to see whatever else is happening, especially with Killian and Callan. The Brothers, Fathers, and Kiznitch in general aren’t like civilians. They see things through jaded glass. What doesn’t make sense to most, does to them.
Tearing open the door to our RV, I jog upstairs to my bedroom and flick the lock closed. My body shakes as I drop to the ground. I bring my knees up to my chest and rest my forehead. In and out. In and out. Attempting to slow down my erratic breathing, the walls start closing in around me.
“I don’t want to be here, Mama…” I whispered, running a rag over the pristine glass table.
Mama turned to face me, her hands coming to her slender waist. Mama was looking frail—more than I had ever seen her before.
“I know you don’t want to, Zaika, but it’s part of your father and I’s job to be here. Go and fix yourself up a bit so we can take you to Mayhem when we finish up. How does that sound?”
It sounded fun. I always wanted to go to Mayhem. I saw photos of it from my ma and pa, but never would have thought I’d ever be able to see it for myself. With my own eyes.
I ran up the stairs and into the guest room, rummaging through my suitcase until I found a little red dress. It had long sleeves and came down to my knees. It was my favorite. Papa didn’t really like it. He would say that red and black were grown up colors, but Mama always fought him on that.
I slipped the dress on and tied a matching red ribbon around my head.
Tonight, I got to play with destiny, and I couldn’t wait.
I broke myself out of my memory lapse and reach for the covers from my bed, pulling them down until they’re wrapped around my body. Curling into a ball on the floor, I squeeze my eyes shut.
My door slams against the wall in my room, and I jump up from my bed, my gun cocked and pointed on Delila. “Jesus, Kill.”
“Sorry.” I lower it, tucking it inside the waistband of my briefs and running my hands through my hair. “What do you want?”
“I need you all out front now so I can brief everyone on what is happening from here. And Killian?” She glares, gesturing to my body. “Come dressed this time, please.”
I drop back onto my bed, my hands on my face.
A slender arm snakes around my waist. “Mmm, come back to bed.”
I push her away. “Get out.”
Callan flinches away from me. “Wow, Kill. No problem.” She picks up her clothes off the floor and I don’t know she’s gone until my door slams shut.
“You know…” Maya murmurs from the other side of the bed, shuffling up onto her elbows. I turn over my shoulder to face her. “You don’t have to be that awful to her.”
“Yeah.” I glare at Maya. “I do.”
She reaches to the bedside table and grabs one of my smokes, resting it between her lips.
“What time is it?” Val mutters, rubbing the sleep from her eyes on the other side of Maya.
“Early, but Delila has called a meeting. She’s going to brief us on what’s happening today.” I stand, reaching for my jeans. I slide them on, leaving the button undone. I point to the door. “Both of you, get out.”
They look up at me with puppy eyes. I cringe, my jaw tensing. “Now.”
Val grumbles in obvious amusement as she slowly crawls out of my bed, but Maya remains, smoking her cigarette. I get it. Maya has always thought that she was on a pedestal with me. Mainly because I put her there, but the way she acted last night pissed me off, and then bringing the party to my bed irked me even more.
“Get out, May.”
She flinches. “What?”
I roll my eyes, snatching my phone from the bedside table, before making my way downstairs. I’m running my hand through my hair when I spot King at the door, ready to leave.
“You know, I watched them all slowly climb out from your room this morning, and they reminded me of stray cats.”
Biting a cigarette between my teeth, I snatch my Ray-Bans off the table. “What? Don’t act like you’re surprised.” A smirk is on my mouth before I can fight it.
King pushes the door open and we slowly make our way to the tent. “Nah, not at all, but I was waiting for Sass to come down.”
I freeze, my fingers flexing around my cigarette. I drag it out slowly, puffing out a cloud of smoke.
“What?” I know he’s tormenting me. “She didn’t come? Don’t tell me… she’s not like the rest of the easy girls who go to bed with you no matter who is already there? I’m shocked. Really. A girl who looks like that but has morals?” he mocks, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Shut up, motherfucker.”
King lets out a loud laugh just as we enter the tent. Everyone is already here, waiting. Delila stands in the center of the ring, glaring at me.
“Well, nice of you to finally join us, Trickster. Tell me, are any of the other three girls I saw in your bed this morning joining us? Including my daughter?”
My jaw clenches. Bitch. Turning toward the movement I catch in the corner of my eye, I find Saskia sitting beside Kenan and Perse, her knees drawn up to her chest. Slowly she looks up at me, her eyes rimmed red and face clear of makeup. Fuck. How can she look even more beautiful without makeup on?
I wince again when I notice she looks upset.
Flipping Delila off, I bring my attention back to her. I have to force myself to not whip out a smart-ass reply. Usually I would. But something deep inside of me doesn’t want to.
Fuck knows why.
I drop down on a chair in the front row for the direct purpose that it’s directly opposite Sass.
“So,” Delila says. “I’m not waiting on anyone else. The plan for this morning is that we will be taking the 747 and flying str
aight to Kiznitch. The cruise ship will be traveling back to the US to ensure that our equipment is there by the time, or around the time, that we fly back.”
“Wait!” Lain, one of the Seven Angels raises her fingers. “Are we not doing the international tour?”
Delila shakes her head. “No. I will be honest with you all and say that my planning this was to get you all out of the United States while The Four Fathers and rest of Kiznitch put plans into action, but now something has changed and we are needed back at Kiznitch.”
“As in Romania? As in our motherland?” Lain further asks. My brain tunes out shit that I already know. Without even realizing it, I find Saskia. My stomach clenches when I find her already staring, her snowstorm eyes disarming me. Her skin is flawless, her cheeks pinched red. Her lips are soft and swollen, but not in a way that makes you think she’s filled them with synthetic bullshit, but more in a way that makes you realize she’s just some crazy perfected witch created from the wicked. If Saskia was the spawn of Satan, she was obviously his favorite.
I stay focused on her, kicking my leg out and slowly raising my cigarette to my mouth. She quickly turns away from me, whispering something to Kenan. Kenan leans forward slightly, glaring at me, before leaning back in his chair. Sass stands at that moment, ambling out of the tent. Delila doesn’t flinch as she continues to yap on about whatever the fuck it is we’re doing, but I’ve long since drowned her out.
Kenan’s eyes come to mine.
I mouth, “What?”
He flips me off before going back to Delila. Smart ass motherfucker. I should beat his ass. But I won’t. Instead, I stand from my chair. This time Delila does stop talking.
“Killian, I swear to all things that are holy, if you don’t sit the fuck down.”
“Well good thing nothing near us is holy, Delila. King will fill me in.”
I jog out of the tent in search of Sass. Workers are shuffling around outside, packing up loose items and folding them away. Their RV comes into view and before I can stop myself, I’m heading straight for it.