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“Hey!” He grabs onto my arm, pausing my footing.
Breathe in and out. I don’t care. I shouldn’t care.
So why does it feel as though someone has punched me in my stomach? Why do I feel sick? Maybe I am sick.
I turn to face him, smiling. “Can we just get this over with? I haven’t been on a bike, let alone been on a wheel with one.”
His eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, slowly pulling my arm out of his grip and turning back to the tent. You can’t give a man like Killian ammunition; he’ll only use it to shoot you straight through the heart.
“You went weird…” he mutters, just as we’re passing the seating and heading straight for the center ring.
“Hey!” I ignore Killian and call out to Keaton, who is standing with Lucifer, one of the Six Demons.
Lucifer is hot for an old guy. With dark hair and a thick, dark beard, he’s everything that I pictured from a Game of Thrones set.
Lucifer regards me up and down until it gets weird, and he disappears into the crowd after saying he’ll catch Keaton later.
Keaton stares at me blankly. “What’s up? I thought you trained already?”
“She did,” Killian declares, wrapping his arm around my belly and tugging me into his chest. I try to wriggle my way out of his grip when Keaton notices the foreign movement.
“Is this a thing?” he asks, gesturing down to my belly. “And I’m not talking about the dried cum.”
I slip out of Killian’s hold. “Nope. It’s not.” Turning toward the wheel. “Okay, so what do I do?”
This show went as smooth as the one yesterday, only when it was time for me to hop into the wheel with Killian, I almost froze. Wearing the outfit I wore during my fire scene, I waltzed into the wheel, and pulled myself onto the swing. The Wheel of Death was dangerous without the swings, but with them it was even worse. Though the swings never moved, every time I went upside down, while Killian burned around me, was terrifying. You couldn’t see it from the audience, but I was locked to a harness that was co
I’m ashamed for what I’ve done, but I can’t help it. I’m impulsive as a person, I only wish that I could have better prepared myself for how easily I would trip and fall on top of Killian Cornelii’s dick. Suddenly, I see why he has no problem getting girls.
I’m mad that I’ve slapped a number on my head.
The show ends and I head back to the RV, quickly washing up and slipping into a dress style suit jacket with white cuffs and Nike mid-tops. It’s a blend between classy and tomboy, which I’ve always found the style I heed toward when I’m not performing.
I’m pulling open my bedroom door when Killian is standing there, freshly showered and looking extra fuckable with black jeans that have tears in the knees and the word VALENTINO printed in white large letters that cross from one leg to the other. He matched it with a white Calvin Klein shirt and white Nike sneakers.
“Killian,” I sigh, pulling the door closed behind me. Why does he make this so hard?
“You’re coming with me.” He reaches for my hand, but I flinch away from him.
“Why? Can’t you take Callan?” I say, shaking my head. “And it’s only a few steps away.”
His brows rise. “You want me to take Callan?”
I look to the ground, catching sight of his bandana tied around his wrist. I have heard about the significance of these bandanas and what they mean, though I’ve yet to know if it’s myth or true, because if it’s true, that would mean that I live with serial killers.
I lick my lips. No. “Yes.”
His jaw flexes a few times, and I watch as his cold, distant eyes lose focus. He pushes off the wall and heads back downstairs.
Shit.
Why’d I have to say that? Maybe I was still sulking about this morning. Or maybe it’s because I can’t trust him and will never be able to trust him, so it’s better this way. I settle for the latter and head downstairs, then outside when I see no one is there. Few minutes later, I’m at Midnight’s RV where they have a fire pit burning and chairs laid out everywhere. People from the show and the workers and crew, all here drinking, laughing, chatting. Everyone but Delila, from what I can see.
I know Killian’s here. I felt him before I even tried to seek him out. We’re like magnetic forces whenever we’re in the same vicinity, which would explain why I’m struggling so hard to stay away from him.
“Sass!” Val waves me over to where her and Maya are seated near the fire. I head over, snatching a glass of wine on the way. I take a sip, sitting down on the chair.
“So, me and Maya were just saying how tired you must be from doing so many skits…” She’s right, I do have more scenes than the rest of them, but I’ve always liked to stay busy. I worked since I was at high school—not because I needed the money, but because I didn’t like to sit still for long. Hope was more than willing to pay for my tuition and did.
“I guess I like to keep busy.”
Maya chuckles. She stares off to the side of her, a drink dangling from between her fingers. I’d always found Maya beautiful. The kind that is effortless. She rolls out of bed this way.
“How’s your injury?” I ask Maya, taking a small sip of my wine. I can already feel the effects of it seeping into my brain and taking hold.
“Oh, is that what he told you?” Maya glares at me, tilting her head back to drink the rest of her cup and then stands, walking away from us.
“Ignore her.” Val rolls her eyes, waving her off. “She’s just mad that you’ve gained the attention of Trickster.”
“What?” I scoff. “I haven’t. Not any more than anyone else, anyway.”
Val doesn’t answer, so I look back at her, only to find her studying me closely. Val has long blonde hair, a small heart-shaped face and a small dimple indented into her chin.
“What?” I ask when the silence becomes too much.
“Oh, nothing.” She leans forward, pouring more wine into her cup. “Just that you have no idea—”
“Val,” Lucifer interrupts us, taking a seat on the chair where Maya was. “Don’t you have someone else to torment?”
I lean back in my chair, momentarily distracted by her words. I drink more.
When the music switches to “Love is a Bitch” by Two Feet, my eyes flutter closed and I lean back in my chair, gazing up at the bright stars twinkling in the sky. I think I preferred being alone in my room.
“Not much of a talker, huh?” Lucifer breaks through my i
“Hmmm.” I smile without looking at him. I know men. I know boys. They see me, and they want to fuck me. It’s why I was so immune to Killian. I’ve never had a boyfriend, though I had plenty of options. I’ve never seen the point of it. Killian, though, he snuck up on me silently, like a black mamba. “Not really.”
Lucifer must stand, because more alcohol is being poured into the glass that’s hanging between my fingers. I sit up slightly to gaze up at him. He’s wearing a ripped t-shirt, fitted jeans, and military style boots. His beard is overgrown, but groomed, but his features are not old. I’d say he’d be mid-thirties.
He takes a seat beside me, and just as he moves, I see Callan sitting on Killian’s lap near the fire.
I freeze slightly. This is why I don’t lower my guard. Why I shouldn’t have given him the power or satisfaction of sleeping with me, because now, he gets to talk about it. He gets to know that he has seen me naked while having every other girl that he pleases too.