In Fury Lies Mischief

Kyrin and Keaton drift out from behind the stage. They’re all made up in the clown makeup, loose jeans, and wearing no shirts. Realization slams into me instantly.

I’m their next act.

“Alone—Unplugged” by Sayk—404 starts playing. They’re notorious for using this tune for their scene.

Shit.

Killian turns his head over his shoulder once he’s in front of me, smirking at the audience. Everyone starts clapping and cheering him on as he pushes me down. I freak out, my arms flying out until I land on a chair.

Removing a bandana from around his neck, he drops down to face me. His eyes search mine, a smirk still so powerful it feels as though he’s punched me right in the stomach. “Ready?”

No? I want to say, because I’m not. Only my mind isn’t like the usual. I won’t allow him free access without a fight.

He ties it around my mouth so only my eyes are in view before flipping the scarf up so it’s finally covering my eyes. I can smell his cologne in the material, combined with gasoline and nicotine. My breathing thickens as colorful dots dance behind my eyes. What would happen if I let go? Music pirouettes around me, urging my mind to come out and play. Just a little. If only, out of sheer intrigue. Half of me is afraid what Killian and the boys could do, but the other half is enthralled.

Dark red lighting saturates my mind. Fishnet tights. My devil horns. A red lollipop being pulled from between my glossy red lips before being delicately slid back between them. Red. I suck on it as the lights begin to flicker, and Killian stalks toward me. He’s wearing no shirt, light blue denim jeans that are destroyed for vanity, and his trademark smirk. His body presses against mine as his hand comes to the front of my throat. He squeezes, cutting off air.

His lips move to the curve of my ear. “Are you who you say you are?”

My stomach drops and panic seizes my muscles as I tear off the blindfold.

I’m back in the show. Back in real time. This is real. That wasn’t smart.

Killian stares at me from the other side of the room as Delila explains to the audience what Killian can do, and asks for a volunteer from the crowd, to which she finds one. How long was I out? He wasn’t supposed to do that, yet he did, without even touching me. He’s not playing fair, using his trickery to conjure something out of me that doesn’t exist.

A girl.

Around my age.

I stand from the chair and she takes my place, my throat clenching as panic refuses to release its grip from around me.

I start to stalk off the stage when Kyrin intercepts me, his hand coming to the back of my neck.

He looks down, a sneer on his mouth. “You don’t move, Hellhound. Stay here.”

Spi

“King” from Niykee Heaton starts playing and my eyes close, the beat pulling at my natural instinct to dance.

“Shit,” I whisper as I feel my mind drifting toward my urges. I need to fucking dance.

Kyrin’s mouth curves against the back of my neck. “Let go.”

I exhale a slow, shaky breath, and tilt my head around, my hand coming to his. Kyrin freezes as I turn in his grip. I’m well aware that this is a performance for the crowd, but I bet Delila is absolutely spewing right now, wondering what the hell is going on. Why Killian and I’s “push and pull” is now being performed during her show.

This is a pull for power between Killian and me. He took over my acts, so I’ll take over his. Realistically, I didn’t have to dance, but God did I want to. So I’ll do what I do, and dance.

I swing my head, my hair whipping around in a circle. I’m certain I saw Kill falter as he was putting a white bandana over the girl’s face.

He didn’t use his bandana.

Interesting.

Hooking my hand into Kyrin’s, I pull him into my body, rolling with the beat. A few people catcall in the audience, only intensifying my need to take over Killian’s act the way he did mine. I lean forward, touching my toes while grinding my ass into Kyrin’s crotch. Kyrin is pretty vacant with me. He doesn’t talk to me unless he has to and stays far away from displaying who he is as a person. These boys may be vicious and cruel, and heartless with no emotion, but there’s one thing absolute that I know. I can tap at the walls they keep up while performing because above everything, they’re entertainers. This is who they are. So as long as we’re on the stage, I can torment the tormenters.

Kyrin’s hands land on my hips, his fingers trailing over my bare belly. I spin back around and hook my arm around the back of his neck. When the chorus kicks in again, I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist, grinding, rolling, and rubbing myself over his body. Using it as my own personal stripper pole. When the song thuds out to a slow, menacing beat, I slowly curve backward until I’m upside down, my hands on the floor and my legs now locked around Ky’s waist.

The music throbs like a trance.

Killian’s cold eyes bore into mine as the lighting flicks on and off in the same red that I saw in my head not long ago. I continue to ride Kyrin. Dry humping to the beat.

Kyrin squeezes my thighs, a warning, I think. Warnings don’t scare me, and Killian is about to learn that I’m a loaded weapon and have no problem at all utilizing it. My body alone could match what his mind tricks could do. I flick my leg up and slide into standing splits, my i

This time the screams from the crowd are drowned out by my heart rate drumming loudly in my ears. People stand, whistle, cheer.

Only Killian is mad.

I keep my cocky grin pointed right at him as I slowly bend to a bow.

Quickly spi

“Nah, uh! You’re not going anywhere!”

I kick to get him off me, only it doesn’t help. He’s too strong, way too strong.

“I’m not involved,” Ky mutters, going back to the cubicle.

Keaton follows closely behind him. “If you want to pop your Kiznitch cherry, Sass, I’m down!” He disappears behind Kyrin and it’s only Killian and me. There’s an intermission now, so we get a thirty minute break. Which I had pla

“Let me go, Killian!”

He doesn’t. He continues to walk us outside, toward the back where the bikes are parked. King seems to be having an argument with Perse beside his. When they see us exit, Perse storms off and disappears back inside.

King looks between us, smirking. “Well, fuck, don’t stop on my account…”

Killian flips him off while placing my feet back on the ground. Before I can run off and back into the tent, he picks me up from the back of my thighs, lifting me around his waist. I wrap them around him to gain balance. As he begins walking backward, he starts pushing me up against the tent. The full moon hangs behind him, offering me the perfect light to shadow his features. Only they’re mostly hidden by the clown makeup.

“Who are you?” he asks, tilting his head and searching my face.