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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, ru
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 ru
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?