Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  “You know what the fuck you’ve done. This isn’t part of the deal, Delila. You don’t run boss bitch on The Brothers, and you damn well know it. Get rid of her.”

  Delila’s eyes slant. “It’s interesting that you want her gone so bad, King. Considering who she is…”

  I chuckle, licking my bottom lip. “I don’t give a fuck who she is. We don’t need another fifth. She can do one show with us. One. Put her on the fucking Chinese poles for all I care.”

  Delila’s eyebrows raise. “Really? Interesting.” She brushes me out, closing the door slightly. “I’ll take that show, King, but mark my words. You’ll find that she is the missing piece you’ve needed.”

  I slam the door myself, frustrated with how things have slightly altered. Pulling out my phone, I dial my old man.

  “I’m calling a huddle. Your brothers will all meet us there,” My father said, loosening the tie that was around his neck. He tossed it onto the kitchen counter. “My office in an hour, and King?” He muttered, gaining my attention. “Get rid of the sad fucking face.” He disappeared out of the kitchen, and I silently flipped him off, spooning another serving of granola into my mouth. Dad calling a huddle wasn’t unheard of. Midnight Mayhem was back in New Orleans, so that meant pack huddle. Most kids would be fucking ecstatic to be home to see family, nope, not fucking me. I wanted back in my RV and back with my brothers faster than anyone. I hated this time of year. Three days before Halloween. It brought back heavy reminders of bullshit that I didn’t need reminding of.

  I emptied my bowl into the sink and put it into the washer before making my way down to my dad’s office. It dripped in opulence and power. You walked into my father’s office, and you knew a bad motherfucker owned this joint.

  And he was.

  The worst.

  My father was the head of the Romanian Mafia, and so was my grandfather and his father and his grandfather and so on. We had tight alliances, but our strongest was and always would be with the Russians, or more importantly, the Romanov’s. Vladimir Pakhan Romanov is the Krestnii Otets of the Russian Bratva; he’s also my father’s oldest friend.

  I kicked the door closed as I entered, surprised that Kill, Ky, and Keaton were already seated with their fathers behind them.

  “What’s going on? Do we have another task?” I asked, looking pointedly at my dad. “I fucking hope so, because I’m in the killing kind of mood.”

  Dad leaned over, pressing the palms of his hands against his executive style mahogany desk. “Just a quick one before you’re back on the road.” I watch as he reaches for a Brazilian cigar from the humidor and places it between his teeth. “Figured you might need the distraction.”

  Dove

  After folding all of my new clothes and putting them away in the small dresser that’s hidden in the closet, I flop back onto the bed and look around the small room. There’s nothing to it but a bed and a marble door that leads to the closet. I’m at the back of the RV, though, so the entire back wall is glass. I’m guessing it’s tinted, so people can’t see in; only, I can see out. The bed is my favorite—wide enough to fit five people comfortably and plush enough to liquefy your day into dreams. I have to admit, even being around all of the extravagance of the mansion and the riches of the atmosphere, I’m still taken aback by this RV. I originally came from money, so I know wealth when I see it, and this is wealth. These boys are rich, and every single person who performs in Midnight Mayhem oozes lavishness. I see it. This isn’t a normal carnival type vibe. There are no ex-cons or drunks. These people aren’t on the road to run away from something or someone; they’re on the road to chase people for the fuck of it. They’re here to make the mundane feel exotic, if only for a couple hours.

  Sighing, I pick up the new phone Delila bought and set up for me and open up a Google search. I’ve been thinking about Delila and how I feel about her and Rose. Whether or not I should confide in them with what happened back on the yacht with the neon masked rapist. I want to. I feel dirty and violated from what he did to me, while knowing it could have been much worse. But another part of me doesn’t really know if I can trust anyone to confide in yet. No matter how close Rose and I are becoming, I’m still not comfortable enough to talk about it. I’ll deal with it in on my own, and then allow people in when I’m ready.

  I type the club into my iPhone and grab the number from the search results before dialing Rich. Like both Delila and King said, I have agreed to be a part of this now, so there’s no going back.

  “Rich, it’s me, Dove.”

  Rich sighs. “Jesus, Dove. I’ve aged fifty years since you’ve been gone.”

  “Well, we can’t have that. You’re already old as shit,” I joke, chuckling at myself.

  He grunts. “I see you’ve expanded your vocabulary a little more.”

  I lie back on my bed, my hand resting over my belly. I want to know how long I’ve been gone, but I don’t want to freak him out by openly asking it. “So, how’s the bar been since I’ve been gone?”

  “Too busy. This last week has been busy. When are you coming back?”

  One week. Okay, so twenty-two girls only equaled one week. Hearing Rich’s voice has calmed me to an extent. I feel like my life is twisting and turning, and I can’t quite grasp onto the things that are happening. Now I have to give him the news. “Ah, not anytime soon. I have been dragged into some…” I freeze, racking my brain for an excuse. “Family drama…” That’s the best I got.

  “Family?” he asks, shocked. “Thought you didn’t have any.”

  “Oh, I don’t, not really. This is not my birth family. One of my foster homes.” I know he wants to ask more questions, so I quickly cut him off. “I’m going to try to come home for a visit soon, but can you do me a favor?” I chew on my lip nervously. He doesn’t answer, but that’s nothing new with Rich. “Can you empty my room and sell everything?”

  “What!” he yells. “What do you mean?”

  I sigh, rolling to my belly. I loved living with Rich and helping him out with his girls, but I know that this is the right thing to do. I can’t be living there to help pay the rent, and I can’t go back to empty my room anytime soon. I know he will want someone in there soon to help pay the mortgage and take care of the girls. “I’m living here now. I can’t explain much, but can you please do this for me? Let the girls choose whatever they want. I know Angela wanted my iPad. She can have that. Sell the rest and donate the money to…” I pause, thinking over my next words. “Survivors of sexual abuse.”

  Rich sighs. “All right, little lady. Whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, Rich!” I spend the next five minutes going back and forth with him, catching up on the drama. He finally lets me go, and I hang up, rubbing my warm ear.

  My phone vibrates on the bed beside me again, and I half-think it’s Rich with a change of heart, but it’s a text from Rose.

  I can’t believe I’m being made tonight.

  I read over her words. When Delila gave me the phone this morning, she said that Rose has one, too, with both our numbers saved into each other’s device. I send her a text back.

  What do you mean made?

  She texts back instantly. My initiation into Midnight is tonight before we leave. Tell me you’ll be there.

  Initiation? They have an actual initiation? When will mine be then? Will they even have one for me?

  What time?

  Midnight.

  My fingers hover over the words. I’ll be there.

  I set my alarm for eleven-thirty, kick off my jeans, and remove my bra before diving beneath the covers of my bed. I watch the sun setting through the glass window, warming my skin, before falling into a deep sleep.

  The ringing of my alarm blares through the quiet night. I shoot up from the bed, swiping the sleep from my eyes. “Shit.”

  “Going somewhere?” Kyrin asks, leaning against the frame where my curtain hangs.

  “Holy shit!” I shove my shirt down to cover myself more, but it’s no use.
My shirt is too short, and Kyrin is already eyeing me up and down.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Little Bird. I’ve seen better.”

  I force myself not to let it bother me so much. I was a stripper. Why the fuck should I care anyway?

  I drop down onto the bed, reach for my black jeans and shove my feet through them. “Yes. I’m going to watch Rose’s initiation.”

  Kyrin grins. “Really?”

  “Yes,” I snap, doing up my button. I rake my fingers through my long hair in an attempt to brush it. “Why?”

  He shrugs, nodding his head. “I’ll walk you.”

  Shoving my feet into my Chucks, I eye him skeptically. “Why would you do that?”

  His tongue sneaks out and runs across his bottom lip. They’re all very good-looking. Annoyingly so. Kyrin and Keaton are the quiet ones; they’re the monsters who sit in the corner and watch everyone kill each other before they come in and feast on people’s battered souls. Killian is the jokester. He’s the one I feel somewhat comfortable with. Mainly because he has nice eyes. They’re smiling eyes. The kind of eyes that he doesn’t have to smile for them to smile, unlike Keaton’s, whose are more serious and intense and fanned with dark eyelashes. Kyrin has jet-black hair and cognac honey eyes. The kind that you don’t trust because he looks a little deranged.

  Kingston. Well, King is something else entirely. He has chocolate hair, that’s the perfect length to run your fingers through, tanned skin, and vivid green eyes. There are my color green eyes, and then there are Kingston’s green. They almost look alien-like. His eyelashes are as thick as his hair, and his cheekbones sit high. They’re all gorgeous guys and all athletically built, with King being the biggest. Kingston has the triangle tattoo over his left pec and a vine of roses over the right side of his stomach that slips down beneath his pants, but other than that, I don’t think he has any other tattoos. Keaton is covered in ink from head to toe. They’re all over his neck, head, arms, and even some on his face. Kyrin has a sleeve, but that’s all I’ve seen so far, and Killian, as far as I’ve seen, is clean.

  “Why would you want to walk me?” I ask again, standing and shoving my phone into my back pocket.

  Kyrin shrugs, glaring at me. “Because.”

  I pause for a few seconds, attempting to find the energy to further question him on his answer. “Fine. Will I get an initiation?”

  He waves ahead, stepping aside for me to shuffle past him. “No. We don’t do one for The Brothers.”

  I ignore how uncomfortable I feel around him and make my way out of their RV, shivering when the cold air hits my arms. I am somewhat relieved that I won’t have to go through whatever it is that Rose is about to do, though.

  “Hey!” Killian is about to pass us, but he stops, instantly stealing my attention. His smile falters when his eyes drift over my shoulder, obviously landing on Kyrin.

  “Going to bed early for once?” Kyrin asks him skeptically, standing right beside me. I try to draw some heat from Kyrin without actually touching him but fail miserably.

  Killian rolls his eyes. Something I would have missed had it not been for the bright garden lights that lead paths toward every RV and trailer, as well as one that goes straight to the big tent at the end. “No.”

  Killian shoves past Kyrin. “Wait here.” He disappears into the RV and returns with a hoodie in his arms. “Here.” He shoves the warm garment into my chest. “My cock is shriveling up just watching you shake like that.”

  “Ah.” I ignore him. “Thanks.” Without looking, I slip my arms into the hoodie, instantly sighing at the warmth it provides.

  Kyrin doesn’t say anything, so I look at him, finding him staring back at me.

  “What?” I ask, curling the hood around my neck. It hangs to my mid-thigh, and I couldn’t be more appreciative.

  “Nothing,” he grumbles. “Let’s go.”

  Killian points to each trailer as we pass, mentioning who is in each one.

  “Midnight?” I ask, just as we’re passing a pastel purple RV that looks a smidge smaller than The Brothers’ RV.

  “Yeah,” Killian says. “They’re the acrobats and dancers. Maya is a contortionist, too, and Val does the aerial straps. D has been trying to get—”

  “You’re rather chatty tonight, bro. Maybe I should start calling you Chatty Kathy with a K.”

  Killian replies, but I’m not sure what he says, because as I re-enter the tent, I’m taken aback by fact that it’s a completely different world. It’s as though they manipulate your mind, replacing all of what you see during the day and changing it with everything your dreams are made from.

  “Wow,” I gasp, taking in the droplets of neon purple lights that dip around the ceiling.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. This is just the practice tent. It isn’t the one we perform in. Come on. Sit in the front.”

  I don’t reply. I just let both of them lead me to the front seats. As I sit down and the plush cushions sink beneath me, I’m awestruck by everything around me.

  The lights are all cut out when a single spotlight beams onto the middle of the stage.

  “What’s going on?” I ask Killian, since I already know that Kyrin won’t tell me anything.

  I can feel heat prickling up the back of my neck, and my spine stiffens: King is obviously here somewhere.

  Killian leans into me, and I inch closer, so I can hear what he’s about to say. My fingers tingle to move, my limbs aching to be on that stage. Why, I don’t know.

  “If you’re scouted into a family that isn’t The Brothers, you have to be initiated by performing their act without knowing what’s going on. If you pass, then congratulations, you’re a part of the notoriously famous and wealthiest show known to mankind. If you fail, well, you die.”

  I pause, my head snapping to his just as soft music begins playing through the speakers. “Wait, you what?”

  Killian’s eyes search mine, a smirk on his mouth. His eyes drop to my lips and his tongue sneaks out to wet his bottom lip. It’s then that I catch the silver ball in the middle of his tongue. He has his fucking tongue pierced. “They die.”

  I instantly look at the stage and see Rose smiling from the center. Crazy bitch is smiling. “Midnight are acrobats as their main act…but not their only act.”

  Rose stands in the center of the stage, her arms stretched wide. There’s nothing but silence and the cool midnight air surrounding us. I lean into Killian when the soft melody picks up and an electric guitar starts playing in the background.

  “Why midnight?”

  Killian’s phone lights up in his hand, and he looks down at it. The light from his phone displays his face. I watch as he slowly smirks as he taps something back. Turning over his shoulder, he sends a wink to someone behind us and then shoves his phone back into his pocket and leans into my ear. “A long time ago, and I mean a long fucking time ago, it was said that when the clock struck twelve, that was when the portal of hell would open and let all the ghosts, that were wanting to come to earth, out. But every night at twelve, they’d get sucked back in, and then more would be allowed through. Like a cycle. They got twenty-four hours here and so on. These ghosts were said to come from a small town in Romania.”

  I look out at Rose and watch as she wraps one of the aerial ribbons around her wrist, trying to pull herself up. She’s failing, but she’s determined. I have no doubt at all that she can do this.

  “That’s a bit weird. Is this small town still alive?”

  Killian smirks. Something he does a lot. “It’s just folklore, but yeah, it is. They say that if a woman dances in front of a fire after midnight, she’s offering her body up as a vessel for one of her ancestors to jump into.”

  “That’s…creepy,” I whisper, the set finishing in the background. I watch as the blonde girl, I think they said her name was Val, grabs onto a large ring that’s hanging from the roof, turning it around. She’s wearing short spandex and a sports bra. Nothing glamorous, but I’m guessing they save the co
stumes for the actual performances.

  Rose searches me out in the crowd, knowing I’m here, but it’s too late because Val is running circles around her, the ring secured in her hand. She swings up, hooking her legs around the ring and hangs upside down as the ring goes higher. On her circling, the ring drops, and she grabs onto Rose’s ankles, yanking her upside down. All that’s stopping Rose from falling onto her head is Val. She pulls Rose up, and I watch as her arms and triceps contract from the movement. Rose finally figures out what’s going on and grabs onto the ring, swinging herself up. They sit side by side as Val performs multiple moves around Rose. I watch as Rose’s head turns from left to right. When Val splits right in front of her face, one ankle to one side and the other to the other, Rose falls backward, but at the last minute, Val grabs onto Rose’s arm, yanking her back as the ring lowers back to the ground. My heart is thrashing in my chest, and it’s not until they’re back on the ground when I realize I’m on my feet, my hands fisted and sweating. The music cuts, and the lights flick on.

  “What the fuck, Val?” Kyrin yells out from beside Killian. “It was just getting good. Why would you save her?”

  Val glares at Kyrin. “Because I happen to maybe like this one. And,” Val looks Rose up and down, “she has potential, but not enough to be better than me.”

  Rose sneers at her, getting to her feet while sweeping her hair up into a high ponytail. “Fuck you.”

  Val beams a smile at her, wicked enough to match Maleficent. “You’re so welcome, precious.” She tosses a bottle of water at Rose’s chest, who catches it instantly. “You’re in. Don’t piss me off.” Then she turns to leave. I take this moment to head straight for Rose, checking her over.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper, noticing the purple and red bruises all over her body.