In Fury Lies Mischief Page 7

  Killian leans forward, gripping me from my waist and spinning me around to face the crowd. Only not only am I facing them, I’m also facing Kyrin.

  Killian’s hand slides beneath my panties. He flicks his finger over my clit, leaning closer to my ear. “Do you fuck like you dance, Little Hellhound?”

  His finger teasingly dives into my pussy and my walls clench around his invasion, unwilling to let him go. My eyes roll to the back of my head.

  “Open your eyes,” he demands. “Watch Kenan try to fuck Kyrin as I fuck you.”

  My eyes open. He bends me over once I’m standing, tearing my tights down from my inner thighs and sliding my panties to the side. He wraps my hair around his fist with his left hand and pulls me back onto his lap while using his right to direct his cock against my entrance.

  His fingers come to my hip and he flexes, just as I swallow him inside of me. He fills me to the brim. I have to pause, because I don’t think I could take him all at once. He’s big. Too big. I feel as though I’m suffocating around his size.

  Tugging on my hair, he further pulls me against him while slowly continuing to drive inside of me. I can’t hear anything unless he yells or he’s right near my ear, but he’s not talking right now. He draws out, taking part of my soul with him, before pushing back in. Just when I think he’s going to go slow, he picks up force, slamming into me harder. Not faster, just harder. He fucks with a brutality that makes me want to whimper, pray, and plead to the gods to give me more. I need more. I need to feel his skin against mine and his lips all over my body.

  His hand comes to the front of my throat and he clenches, leaning up to run his lips over my ear. “Let go.”

  I do, releasing myself all over him. He spins me back around roughly until I’m straddling his waist. He pushes me back down over his dick and I’m seeing stars all over again. If you’re in Mayhem, you’re on the pill, so when he leans forward and sucks my lace covered nipple between his teeth, groaning while emptying himself inside of me, I don’t think twice. Our bodies descend, my heart rate pounding as we play out the remaining minutes before the curtains draw closed.

  The lights cut out when the curtains have dropped. I brush my hair into a high pony, the slick sweat clinging to my skin. Spinning around to face Killian, my face burns when I see that he’s already gone.

  Bring on the guilt.

  The door swings open and Keaton steps inside, laughing like a fucking maniac. “Oh you just couldn’t help yourself, eh, fucker? You had to piss on her.”

  I toss my shirt across the couch and smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “So you fucked her.” He raises a brow. “Now what? On to the next?”

  I falter slightly, reaching for the milk carton in the fridge. Slamming the door closed, I pop the carton open and wrap my lips around it. I can still smell her pussy on the tips of my fingers, and I have to fight the urge to lick every single bit of her hellish little stench off me. “You’re awfully interested.”

  Keaton flips me off, climbing the stairs. “I mean, now that you’ve popped that cherry, maybe you’ve started a fetish with her. I saw the way she responded to you, Kill. That’s a woman hungry for cock now, and not just any dick—Kiznitch dick.” He disappears up the stairs just as the door opens again, but instead of it being Kyrin or King, it’s Delila.

  Shit. I’m probably in trouble for the act I pulled during Saskia’s skit and she’s probably in trouble for challenging me during mine.

  The fucking menace.

  I underestimated her completely.

  “Killian.” Delila climbs the stairs, and it’s then that I realize she’s in sweats and her hair is up in a small bun. She’s wearing no makeup, and it looks like she hasn’t had her monthly Botox juice because the bags under her eyes are worsening.

  “Everything okay?” I ask warily. I know the answer, though. Delila wouldn’t look like this unless it was bad. She prides herself on her appearance.

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  I wave her into the kitchen, taking a seat on the table.

  “We’re going to need that bottle of whiskey your father passed down to you for this conversation.” She’s talking about the three-hundred-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch that has been passed down through the Cornelii generations. I got it when it was half full, and plan to drink the whole fucking lot of it before I die. My son can have the empty bottle because the shit is lethal.

  Making my way to where I keep it, I take down the bottle of aged poison and two glasses, pouring us both a decent amount.

  She shoots it back and nods for another.

  So I do.

  “What’s going on, D?”

  She clears her throat, rotating the liquid around in her glass. “We have to cut our Australian tour short and go back to Kiznitch.”

  I shuffle in my chair. “What? Why?” I haven’t been back to Kiznitch since I was a kid, and that was for family vacations and such. Every holiday, our families would go back to Kiznitch to celebrate. It apparently appeased our parents and made them feel closer to their parents and so on, since they were the first generation to actually transfer to the US.

  She takes a smaller sip this time. “Patience is heading back.”

  I lean back in my chair. “Why?”

  Another sip. “To do their recruit.”

  “Why Kiznitch? Why not go back to Patience?” I ask, finally shooting mine back. She was right. I would need it.

  Her eyes meet mine. “Because they want to ruin it. We have to go back, put on our shows, and protect our home turf.”

  I pause, thinking over the drama that happened before Christmas with Perse. I knew that it wasn’t resolved with Patience, but I thought it was mainly brushed under the mat until we had finished with the tour.

  “You sure this is what you want to do?” I ask skeptically. “It’s going to ruffle some feathers with the crew. A lot of them wait five years to do an international tour.”

  She tips her head back, swallowing the rest of her drink. “Yes. I didn’t plan to do a full tour, I just needed us out of the US to see what Patience did. What their next move was. The Fathers are prepared, and they’ll still get their international tour when they were supposed to. I didn’t want to cause panic within. But we have an issue.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask, leaning forward.

  She drifts in and out of focus. “Someone is feeding information back to Patience. There’s no way they would have known that we were out of the country unless they heard through a rat.”

  “Okay.” I lean forward. “Well, this is a big crew, but I’m sure we will find who it is.” I exhale, running my hand over my face. “Going back to Kiznitch isn’t going to be easy…”

  Delila sobers. “I know, Kill.” Her hands reach for mine. “I know.” She pats them, but I pull away from her, swallowing the rest of my drink. “It’s why I came to tell you in person. You could maybe minimize the blow.”

  I don’t answer. I pop the cork off the bottle and swirl it around. “And then what? What happens after Kiznitch?”

  She leans back in her chair. “Then we fly back to the US.”

  I groan, leaning forward and resting my head on my hands. “Yeah. Alright.”

  “Are you sure?” She has the audacity to ask.

  I laugh, shuffling back and standing off my chair. “I don’t have a fucking option.” Delila stands, offering me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Kill. I really am.”

  Yeah, sure she fucking is.

  Just as Delila leaves, Maya moves around her mother, entering the kitchen. “Wow! What’s going on? Looks serious.”

  Delila ignores her and disappears off into the distance.

  “Maya, if you’ve come to grind on my balls about Saskia, you can save it.”

  Maya pauses, leaning against the threshold of the entry. “It’s not a good idea, Killian. You’re playing with fire. Literally.”

  I lick my lips and tuck my bottom one into my mouth. �
��How so?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

  “She’s just—I don’t know. Weird.”

  I shake my head. “You’re sounding a lot like a jealous ex-girlfriend, Maya. Please return back to your allocated seating. It’s in the friends’ section.”

  Maya sighs. “You’re such a fucking asshole. Can I come in? I promise I’m not grinding your balls, since they probably still smell like Sass.”

  I chuckle, filling up Delila’s empty glass and then mine. “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t fuck Sass?”

  Maya ponders over my words, picking up the glass and taking Delila’s seat. “I mean…” She shrugs, smiling.

  I laugh, swallowing the rest of my drink and putting the glass back on the table. “We’re going back, May.”

  She pauses with a mouthful of whiskey. Swallowing, she tilts her head. “Back? Back where?”

  I wet my bottom lip. “Back to Kiznitch.”

  Her face pales.

  Maya was a pain in my ass. She always had me chasing her through forests and into the mazes that were scattered around Kiznitch, Romania.

  “Maya!” I called out, swiping the sweat from my forehead. “I’m too fucking tired for this!” I swore, and it felt good. Maya hated when I cussed at her because her father was loose lipped when it came to her and Delila.

  “Nah uh!” Maya laughed, her hyena giggle lighting up the dark forest. I stepped forward, the broken branches crunching beneath the soles of my shoes.

  “My mom is going to flip her shit if we’re not back soon…” I warned her, moving branches of trees out of my face. I stepped out into a clearing where there was a cabin. It was made from wood with minimal windows and a thick, cobble chimney.

  “Should we go in?” Maya whispered, her frantic movements unwilling to still.

  I grinned, nudging her. “Knew you were good for something.” I stepped forward just as a scream rang out.

  I tug on my hair, the memory too raw to touch, like an open wound that threatened to slice back open if I got too close to it.

  Maya is standing by the table, pacing back and forth. “Shit.” She pulls out a joint from behind her ear and puts it in her mouth. “This isn’t good.”

  After Maya left, I tossed and turned for the better part of the night, which is exactly why I’m not switched on this morning. We have one more show tonight in Brisbane before we’re heading back to the land of the dead. Literally what it should be called.

  I haven’t seen Sass since the show last night either, which is my bad, I left pretty quickly after. My knee jiggles as King relays the plans of us heading back to Kiznitch. Luce is beside King, the leader of the Six Demons. His real name is Jessie, but we still call him Luce.

  “Why would she cut the tour short, though? Why not wait until we’ve done Australia? Since we go from here to Sydney, it seems a little extreme to leave right now and not come and do what we came here to do, and then there’s the money and how much that would set us back.” Lucifer hits all of the points that I knew people would hit.

  I snort. “I think money is void when it comes to this issue.”

  Luce sighs. “True, but I’m just saying from a business perspective, it still doesn’t make sense.” He stares at me quizzically. “And your father will have a lot to say about that, since he’s the treasurer of Kiznitch.” Dad is the treasurer, which means that he overlooks all of Midnight Mayhem’s expenditures. His knowledge and power of numbers is irrefutable—just like my pops and the ones before him.

  I clear my throat, leaning back in my chair. Money has never been something that I gave a fuck about, in fact, I bathed in fucking liquid gold growing up, but he’s right. The reason why Kiznitch is wealthy and all of the Fathers and founding families never struggle is because we’re smart with our money. This isn’t smart, regardless of how much we have.

  “You’re right,” I agree with Luce.

  “Did he just say that?” Keaton taps my leg with his, where he is on the other side of me.

  I flip him off without looking at him.

  King’s attention wavers when the girls walk through, or rather, Perse walks through.

  I roll my eyes. “Pussy whipped motherfucker.”

  “Keep talking that shit, Kill, only a matter of time…” King teases.

  “Matter of time for what?” Luce laughs, looking between King and I. “Oh no way, not Kill…” He glares at me just as Sass steps through the door, laughing with Kenan. I swear to fuck everything slows as her hair blows around her face when she laughs. She is fucking crippling. The beauty of Saskia was placed on this earth specifically from God to taunt me for all my wrongdoings. Only Saskia isn’t from heaven.

  I can’t even fight the pull when I find her watching me. As if our allurement feeds one another. No, Saskia isn’t sent from God. That kind of beauty is crafted from evil.

  “Fuck off,” I grunt, tilting my head back to focus on the ceiling. Anywhere but where she is.

  “Thank fuck,” Luce answers, seeming to believe me, just as he finds Sass. “That brunette is on some next level shit. Where’d they pick her up from, fucking Victoria’s Secret?”

  I don’t flinch.

  King starts bursting out laughing and I have to fight all that is inside of me not to elbow him in the face. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  Music starts playing, and it’s not until I’ve counted to what feels like one-hundred and calmed my wayward temper that I finally bring my head back down.

  Sass and Kenan run through their duet before they work on their group dance. The duet is hot as fuck, even with the cheesy music, but everything Sass does is dripped in sex, power, and utter fucking rebellion.

  Fuck.

  I have no problem performing in front of hundreds of people. Every week when we’re on tour. But with The Brothers sitting in front of me, and Lucifer from the Demons all watching us, suddenly it’s too much. Too heavy. Too tense.

  “Throw a Fit” starts playing again. We stick to the same songs for the same city, sometimes for two cities, before changing them. I’m wearing a sports bra and ripped boyfriend jeans, with the waistband of my Calvins showing around my hips. I work through the movements, laughing when Kenan rips off his shirt and mirrors my movements in the chorus. The song cuts out and Perse swipes the sweat from her forehead.

  “Sam? Can you play ‘Sally Walker’ by Iggy?”

  I laugh, my head tipping back while shoving Kenan. “You’re an idiot.”

  The song plays, and I step forward, twerking and dancing around the place, finally ignoring whoever else is in here. When the verse starts again, we all fuck around, and eventually manage to merge the choreography into the song. When the chorus comes back on again, I start flossing, and Kenan dives toward me, swinging my body over his shoulder.

  “Okay you two!” Callan crosses her arms in front of herself. We continue through twice more and then I tell Perse that I need to practice my fires.

  Slipping in and out of the cubicle, I’m now wearing workout shorts, mid-top Nike sneakers and a sports bra. Everyone else is finished rehearsing, with the Angels, Val and Mischa playing with the aerials to the side, giving me the bigger part of the stage. Killian, King and Keaton are still in their seats, but Kyrin and Lucifer have gone.

  “Ignore him,” I whisper to myself before realizing I don’t have my damn Zippo.

  “Fuck!” I mouth, and just as I’m about to turn around to find a lighter, the gold Zippo lands near my feet in a thud. I look down at it, and then up at Killian, who is smirking his smug fucking face from his chair.

  “Asshole,” I grumble, picking it up, along with the remote control to the sound system. I flick through it and find a song to train with, pushing play.

  Lighting up the wicks, I begin rolling it over my arm, warming my body up to not just the staff, but the song too.

  I find I like the song and push repeat.

  “Devil” by Niykee Heaton plays and I roll the staff over my body, flicking it around and up against my neck, while using my b
ody in all the ways that I know how, incorporating my flexibility into it more as I become more familiar. I land in the splits, picking up the staff and flipping it through my legs as I slide up. Slowly, I tilt backward with both hands still securely on the staff, dropping into bridge. I flick my legs up to a handstand. I can’t stay up long, unless I want to set fire to the floor.

  The song finishes and the next one comes on. Another fitting song. “Horns” from Bryce Fox. I giggle smugly as I become more confident with it. Stomping out the fire, I pick up the rope and start on that. Kicking it around, wrapping it around my neck, and using it as a weapon against my body.

  Val comes over to me, smirking. “You work as hard as me.”

  I turn the music down, swiping the sweat off my face. I catch the time and freeze. “Holy shit!”

  Val nods, sipping her water. “Yup. You trained for four hours straight.” It’s three pm, and I need to eat and rest before tonight, get myself back into my zen.

  “You’re the same?”

  Val’s cheeks flushed. “Well, I don’t usually, but with you right beside me I found I lost track of time too.”

  I start cleaning up my mess, before making my way to the back to put it away.

  I come back out and Val is still there.

  “You okay?” I ask, eyebrow raised. I haven’t talked to Val much, and because of her old beef with Perse, we naturally just didn’t hang out together.

  “Yeah,” she exhales. “Listen, I never see you drinking or partying, but would you want to come over to our bus tonight after the final show? It’s sort of a ritual and it’ll be weird without you there. Again. You know, people start wondering why you don’t hang.” She’s not lying. It’s not really my scene. I’m not a heavy drinker because I make enough mistakes sober. Though that doesn’t mean I don’t drink. I do. When I need to.

  “Sure,” I say, shrugging.

  What’s the worst that could happen?

  I slip in and out of the shower, drying off just in time for my phone to ping with a notification. Thinking it’s Hope, I dive onto my bed, towel wrapped around my body, hair dripping down my back. It’s a notification from Instagram.