In Fury Lies Mischief (Midnight Mayhem 2)

Perse shuffles, swiping the sleep from her eyes. “Can we go to bed?”

King throws his arm around her neck. “Yeah.” He stands, glaring at me. “Don’t get up to too much mischief…”

I wink at him. “Oh you’re just jealous because you’re—”

Perse slices me with a cold stare.

“Never mind.” I roll my eyes. “’Night, lovers.” They disappear through the bar and out the exit. Running my hand over my face, my focus falls on Callan.

Yeah, fuck it. She’ll do for tonight. Perse hates when I play with her girls, but I can’t help it if they’re offering themselves up as my toys. Well, Callan does. Sass is a different fucking story.

I tilt my head back and look down to my crotch, a smirk on my mouth.

Callan licks the rim of her margarita and shoots back the rest before her long legs swing out from beneath the bar and she walks toward me.

Remember when you could change your ringtone to some remixed Jay-Z and Linkin Park song? Well, fuck, wish I still had that option because “Reflection” (iPhone’s default ringtone) is banging on my rage this morning. I swipe it from the bedside table and hit answer.

“You better be dead, Maya.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not. But you might be, because you’re late and Delila isn’t in a good mood today.” Maya is my annoying as fuck best friend who doesn’t know any boundaries, lights a fire under my ass anytime that she can, and tests my patience every day. If you hadn’t figured it out, yeah, the bar I was at last night had been renamed after her. She wanted it to be called “MAYA,” but I had to hold on to some masculinity, so I called it “YAAM.” Safe to say, she’s not a fan.

I groan, swiping my eyes. “Fuck her. She doesn’t run my ship.”

“Kill? Get in here now.” Delila is also Maya’s mom, but their relationship is not like your average. Putting it lightly.

“Fine!” I hang up and make my way out of bed, growling at the onslaught of light that’s beaming through my windows. “Fuck.” I must have forgotten to close them last night after Callan left, or rather, I kicked her ass out.

After a quick shower, I throw on some grey sweats and Adidas sneakers, tossing a clean white Tommy Hilfiger shirt over my shoulder. I don’t know what Delila’s issue is, it’s not like we can train on the triple wheel of death, which is the stunt she’s always grinding our ass to train. I get it, it’s dangerous and requires practice, but we’ve all been riding on those wheels since we were old enough to ride.

I open the doors that lead to the first level auditorium, a smoke hanging from my mouth and a coffee in hand. “Sorry I’m late, didn’t realize I had to fucking be here,” I mutter, as everyone turns to face me.

I notice it’s just us. Midnight, the Six Demons and Seven Angels, and whatever it is that Perse called her little crew. And Delila, of course. None of the crew is here.

I mindlessly find Sass, who is looking right through me, as if I don’t exist. She’s fucking good at that. I blow her a kiss before sliding in beside Keaton. She flinches, turning away from me. Don’t know what the fuck is up with her or what her problem with me is. When I first saw her, naturally, I wanted her. The girl is a walking younger version of Adriana Lima—only hotter, because she has this whole Megan Fox thing going on too. But for some fucked up reason, she has withdrawn from me. She hasn’t spoken one word to me, yet she and Keaton seem to have some fucking twisted vibe going on.

Motherfucker. It’s weird for Keaton, and when I say vibe, I mean he doesn’t exactly mind her company. Usually, he hates everyone. He doesn’t like to be around anyone but us, but apparently, Saskia has slowly made her way into his books. I ain’t buying it and I still have money on the fact that Perse has made him soft.

I know he hasn’t fucked her. In fact, I know that no one has touched Saskia Royal for the time that she has been here. She barely speaks, keeps to herself, and only cultivates in her circle, which is mainly Perse, Callan, and Kenan.

“So good of you to join us, Trickster.” Delila glowers at me, before lighting up another smoke and inhaling. “Okay. So, we are set to dock in Brisbane in twenty-three days. As usual, or if you’re new—” She looks over to Callan, Sass, Kenan, and Perse. “It takes twenty-three days to sail to Australia, where we do two shows in Brisbane, before setting off to Sydney and Perth. You’ll find an itinerary underneath your seat, which is heavily outlined on not only our timetable and schedule, but the training that I will need you all to maintain while we’re out at sea. If you’re not working on your routine, you better be running on those treadmills.”