In Fury Lies Mischief (Midnight Mayhem 2)

“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.