Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Kyrin doesn’t answer, and I don’t want to release my attention from Killian, afraid that he might see it as a tap out.
Kyrin steps beside us.
“Touch her.”
Kyrin scoffs. “I’ve told you. I’m not getting in the middle of your guys’ little games. It’s not going to end well.”
“Maybe,” I finally whisper, my attention remaining on Killian. “But it’s fun while it’s happening, so.” I narrow my eyes at Killian. His jaw ticks slightly. So faintly, I would have missed it had I not been on high alert right now. “Touch me.”
The corner of Killian’s lip curls up.
Kyrin coughs. “As much as I’d love to entertain this game, we have to leave because people are waiting for us in the car, and I wasn’t fucking kidding when I said that last night only happened because I was drunk. I don’t fuck often. Unlike your choice in men.”
Killian pushes off the wall and grabs my hand, tugging me behind him. “She’s drunk.”
We start heading down the corridor and down the twin staircase. The foyer drips in opulence, just like everything else these boys touch. Seriously, who owns a private 747? Before we’re out front. Killian leads me toward his Lambo as Kyrin slips into the Maserati behind him.
“What’s with all the flashy cars?” I ask, reaching for the door handle.
Killian slides in, pushing it to start. “We have cars here and in the US. These are nothing like the ones we have back home.”
He’s pulling us out of the long driveway when I turn to face him. “So you guys spend a lot of time here?” Why am I talking?
He drops it down to second gear and we jet forward, my head slamming against the headrest. “Yeah.”
“Why are you moody all of a sudden?”
Again, why am I talking?
“I’m not,” he answers, and turns the stereo on, cutting off any other possible conversations.
I’m confused. I think that much is obvious. Especially to him, but mainly to myself. I’m mature enough to understand that we can’t seem to not have sex, but that doesn’t mean I have to fuel it. I need to learn to push away.
Keep my distance.
I can acknowledge that we’re doing this song and dance, but I can always hit pause.
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up to a parking lot. I recognize it slightly, only it looks a lot different than what it used to be.
A dark and lilac archway that’s split in the middle is curved in a rainbow, with the words “Midnight Mayhem” written over the top. The paint is faded and chipped, a complete contrast to what it used to look like when I came here as a kid. The gating around the entry is the same purple cement that leads all the way around Mayhem’s grounds.
“What?” I whisper, reaching for my belt as all the rest of the cars pull up beside us. “What are—” I pause.
“What’s the matter?” Killian growls softly. “Scared of a little Mayhem?”
I turn to face him, blinking continuously. “I don’t want to be here.”
“Why?” he asks, his head tilting. His tone is condescending. As if he already knows the reason as to why I don’t want to be here.
“Because…” I answer, my throat clogged. “I don’t want to.”
He seems to ponder over my reaction before he slips out of the car.
“Shit.” I inhale and exhale, closing my eyes.
“This is where they come.”
I squeezed my mom’s hand as I licked my ice cream. I loved coming to Mayhem, but I even more loved that I got to wear my pretty red dress.
“No.” My mother shook her head. “I don’t agree with this nor will I ever.”
My father kneeled down in front of me. I loved Papa. He was always gentle and handled me with care. Right then, though, I found myself stepping closer to Mama.
“Oh, how your mom is wrong, Zaika.”
I was confused, because his touch was soft, yet the tone of his voice made me feel uneasy. How is she wrong?
“Wow!” Killian’s hands come to my upper arms and he turns me around to face him. Callan is behind him, staring at me up and down in obvious distaste. “The fuck has you so much on edge? If this is what you’re like when you’re drunk, you’re never drinking again.”
Callan scoffs, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm into Perse’s. “I need to talk with you about something.”
“Why are you so hellbent on tormenting me?” I ask Killian, falling into step beside him as we make our way to the abandoned amusement park. Something inside of me stirs, but I’m perplexed as to why.
Killian grins but doesn’t answer.
“That smirk won’t work on me.” Only I’m a damn paradox because it has so far.
“Killian!” I reach for his arm and he stops, just short of the entrance. Turning to face me, his focus moves between my eyes and my lips.