Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  I raise a challenging eyebrow. “And if we don’t?”

  Kyrin flicks the deck of cards between his fingers. “We’ve never had someone tap out before, so who knows, Little Dove. I guess it would put you in an awfully fragile situation.”

  I gulp quietly so I don’t exhibit my fear. “What are the rules?” I ask, peeking at my cards. This was an awful idea.

  Kyrin pours another glass of vodka, sliding it toward me. “You can’t ask the color, the family, or whether it’s an odd number.”

  “What?” I gasp, ignoring the drink. “How am I supposed to figure out the card?”

  “I guess you’re about to figure that out,” Keaton murmurs.

  Kyrin places the rest of the cards into the middle of the table and turns to Keaton. He searches his eyes for a few seconds. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Black.”

  “Really? I thought it was red.”

  Keaton glares.

  Kyrin chuckles. “King of hearts.”

  Keaton flicks the card around, revealing the king of hearts.

  “What? That’s impossible!” I don’t understand the dynamic of many card games, but I’m almost certain I have never seen one played like this.

  Killian leans into me. “This will be hard for you because you’re new and we’re intimidating, but I’ll tell you a secret.” He leans in farther, close enough for me to feel his lips over my earlobe. “People usually display what they hold.”

  I have no idea what that means.

  “Stop fucking cheating, Kill,” King mutters, shaking his head.

  “Hey! I mean, we’ve never had a girl in our group before. I’m just making sure she has a fair go. And man, we’ve thrown her into the deep end by playing sixers.”

  “Bullshit.” Killian chuckles, glaring at me. “We’ve been playing this game since we we’re two years old.”

  The silence spills out between the group.

  “Two?” I ask, shocked. How could a two-year-old know how to play a game that I can’t play?

  Keaton answers, “He’s kidding.” He says the words, but I don’t feel their truth.

  They continue to go around the circle, and I watch as one after the other gets them right. King has the most cards stacked against him when it’s my turn to deal. I put the cards in the middle of the table.

  “You gonna drink your drink?” Kyrin asks, nudging his head toward the glass.

  “I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

  “Huh.” Kyrin smiles. “Maybe that’s something we could learn. You know, don’t take humans who don’t belong to you.”

  I wince, but not enough for any of them to notice.

  My eyes flick to Killian who is on my left. He holds up his card, tapping it against his mouth. “Come on, Little Bird. You know you’ve got this.”

  I have no idea what I’ve got, and this game is weird. I don’t know where to start or what I should ask.

  “Ever kissed a stranger?” Not sure why that came out of my mouth, but I’ll go with it, because it’s Killian. What’s the worst that could happen?

  “Take me to dinner before you fuck me, Little Bird.” He chuckles, hiding behind his card.

  His left eye twitches.

  I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. “I don’t know. Six of diamonds?”

  “Wrong!” Killian flashes a ten of hearts.

  “This game sucks,” I murmur, before realizing who is next.

  Kingston stares at me flatly, his thick eyelashes fanning across his high cheekbones every time he blinks. His lips are the perfect size. Not too plump but not too thin. His face is in flawless symmetry, every feature perfect and aligned.

  He holds my stare, the card tucked between his thumb and his pointer finger. He holds his drink in the other hand. I notice the leather bracelet on his wrist and the black ring on his finger.

  Silence fills the space around us, and I swear I’m breathing loudly.

  I blink slowly. “Ever been in love?”

  He holds my stare, not so much as flinching. “Never.”

  “Ever plan to?”

  His jaw clenches. “Never.”

  “Some might say you have a black heart.”

  He cocks his head as the corner of his mouth kicks up an inch. It’s subtle, but I caught it. I carry on, my tongue swiping across my bottom lip. His eyes fall from mine to catch the movement before they come back up. Again, subtly. “Some might say…” I whisper. What the fuck am I doing? “That you’re an ace of spades.”

  He stills. His eyes narrow on me, and everything around me ceases to exist. In this moment, it’s just him and me and our silent tug-of-war.

  He tenses his jaw a few times and then flips the card around to face me.

  Everything comes back into real time when the rest of the boys erupt into a fit of disbelief. There, between King’s fingers, is the ace of spades.

  I blink a few times to pull myself out of the daze I was in. “Wait, you swapped that!” I point to the card.

  King flings the card into the middle of the table. “I didn’t, and I don’t cheat.”

  “That’s fucked up.” Killian shakes his head in disbelief. He stands from the table, pulling out his phone. He snaps a random photo of us all around the table. “That is going down in history.”

  I shake myself off and try it on the other two. Keaton was an epic fail. I don’t even know why I tried. I can’t pull anything out of him, and to be honest, I wasn’t even trying, because I don’t know how I did it to begin with, and I was too distracted by whatever it was that just happened.

  Same with Kyrin. Fail. Fail. Fail. All but goddamn Kingston Axton. Why couldn’t he be my fail? Why did he have to hold my ace of spades?

  “All right! We don’t have to count to know that King won,” Killian announces, tossing his cards into the middle and downing the rest of his drink.

  “Surprise, surprise.” Keaton chuckles, kicking King from beneath the table.

  “What will it be, your majesty? Come on. Hand it to us!” Killian teases, tossing potato chips into his mouth.

  Kingston smirks, looking around the table.

  I freeze when his eyes land on me, and instead of going to Killian, they stay on me.

  Oh no.

  Oh shit.

  I shake my head. “I’m new. You can’t include me in this.”

  His eyebrows raise. “Oh, but I can.” He grins, his index finger working his upper lip.

  “Yo!” Justice calls out from the driver’s seat, saving me from whatever King was about to say. Thank God. “We’re here!” I look down at the time that’s on the dashboard: 7:37.

  Crap, that time went fast.

  I stand from the table, taking my glass to the sink as the rest of them disappear left, right, and center to do the things they probably do, which I know nothing about.

  I spin around to find King still in his chair. I’m partially annoyed because I have to pretty much brush past him to get to my room. I could sit up with Justice a bit longer, but I think our chitchat has successfully died out.

  I begin heading for my room while holding my breath. When I reach King, his hand finds my inner thigh, stopping my movement—and my fucking heart.

  I pause, my breathing ragged. As I look down at him, he smirks up at me. His fingers flex around my thigh and I have to internally talk myself down from combusting. “I’ll be cashing in on that dare later tonight, Little Bird.”

  He releases me, and I manage to successfully make my way to my bed without falling flat on my face.

  My phone vibrates just as I catch my breath in my pillow; I reach for it, opening the text.

  I’m going to kill Val before tonight’s over.

  Give me girl drama over this any day. I remember being in high school and freaking out over the smallest bit of drama. Now, up against this, it feels miniscule. Even the fact that before I had been taken into Midnight Mayhem, I was starving, broke, and paying my way in life via dancing on a pole every night seems so
diminutive, considering my now drama.

  Killian interrupts my reply by pulling the curtain open. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” I swallow, keeping my eyes locked on the ceiling and placing my phone to my side.

  Killian drops down onto my bed, kicking off his shoes and climbing up farther. I turn my head to face him. He’s leaning back on one elbow, his smirk hiding behind his hoodie slightly. “Wanna know what’s weird?” His blue eyes dance in mischief. He pushes the ball of his tongue ring out, and I watch as he drags it across his bottom lip.

  “What?” I ask, momentarily hypnotized by his tongue.

  He pops it back into his mouth, his hand coming to my chin to tilt my face up to his. “You’re fair game right now, so I wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”

  I yank myself out of his grip. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Anyway.” His charm is back in full effect. “The funny thing.”

  I roll my eyes, tucking my hand under my head to hear what he has to say.

  “We’ve been playing that game since we were two. That’s twenty-two years of sixers, and never in those twenty-two years has anyone ever been able to call on King.”

  I blink a couple of times.

  A few inhales of breath later.

  “And?” I ask, wanting more. Needing more.

  “And?” Killian parrots, flashing his straight teeth from behind a smile. “And that’s fucking weird.” He narrows his eyes, searching mine. “You’re an alien. From Area 51.”

  I push off the bed, picking up my phone and quickly typing out the text I was supposed to send Rose before Killian walked his smug ass into my Area 51.

  Can we swap?

  “What is your deal, anyway, Little Bird?” Killian asks, slowly coming off the bed and leaning his elbows onto his knees. “Why are you here?”

  I’m about to say you fucking stole me when the curtain that separates me and the rest of the RV is ripped open.

  “Get out.” Kingston hikes his thumb over his shoulder, glaring at Killian.

  I shoot up from my position, as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong.

  Killian doesn’t move; he remains silent, and it’s not until I look at him that I find his smirk fixed on Kingston.

  “Really?” Killian laughs, shuffling off my bed and leaning into Kingston to whisper into his ear. I don’t even want to know what they’re talking about. I’m too busy stressing about what King might have me do for my dare. Maybe I should counter it with a game of poker and see if he still wins.

  Killian leaves, and the RV comes to a stop. The silence that fills the distance between King and me is loud enough to wake the dead.

  “So, this dare…” I joke, squeezing the blanket under my fist.

  “Do I need to lay out some rules? I mean, some pretty fucking obvious ones?” he counters, throwing me off course.

  “What do you mean?” My cheeks heat. I don’t know why I assumed that he would be back here specifically for his dare.

  He comes closer, leaning down onto the bed with his fists, caging me between two large arms. His proximity reminds me of a song I danced to one time. “Breathe” by Mako. “The power of distraction when you’re in a vulnerable position could be the immediate decider between life or death, Little Bird.” I close my eyes, mainly to shut out the voice that haunts me even when my eyes are open.

  “You’re not to fuck, kiss, or so much as touch any of The Brothers. Do I need to put that in writing for you to get that through your pretty little head?” His voice is low, his breath warm against my lips. Slowly, I open my eyes and notice he’s right there. Face-to-face. Nose-to-nose. He searches my eyes and then drops to my mouth. “Answer me, Dove.”

  “No, you don’t need to put that in writing. I won’t go near any of you.”

  “You seem so sure,” Kingston argues, his head tilting as if he’s studying every inch of me, but he’s not. He’s merely bored and playing God, making sure his pawns are moving across the board sufficiently. I know his type. The broody alpha male who likes his soldiers in a line, ready for battle. I’ve just got to figure out whether I’m one of his soldiers or an enemy.

  I clear my throat, my lips curling between my teeth. “I am. Somewhat.”

  “What makes you second-guess that?” I need him to back up from me.

  I want to say you! You fucking make me second-guess that, but instead, I shake my head.

  He pushes back, squaring his shoulders. “We’ll see about that.” He leaves, and I watch as he disappears into the darkness of the RV. The only light illuminating the area is the bulb on the roof.

  Justice stretches his arms above his head, yawning. He catches me staring and cuts his yawn short. “Little Bird, you all right?” He has an accent, and I have no idea what it is. Scottish, maybe? It seems almost gypsy-like. Maybe it’s just some weird hybrid accent from traveling so much.

  “Yeah.” I stand from my bed, grabbing my phone and shoving it into my back pocket. I make my way down the RV. “What usually happens from here?”

  He rolls his shoulders. “Well, we drink while the construction crew sets up.”

  “The construction crew?”

  “Yep!” He moves into the kitchen and takes a bottle of water out of the fridge. “We don’t do any of the labor. We all have to…” He pauses, takes a sip, and momentarily thinks over what he’s about to say next. “Reserve our energy for the show.” He disappears behind me without saying goodbye. What even is this show? Everyone has made it clear that it’s not a circus because they don’t have animals, but I can’t call it a carnival either because they don’t have rides. What is Midnight Mayhem? Aside from the midnight folklore myth that Killian shared with me?

  After throwing on warmer clothes, tight skinny jeans, Uggs, and an army green utility jacket with warm fur—fake, I hope—around the collar, I make my way outside to find Rose. The RVs are lined up beside each other, with just enough space to give some privacy, but ours is more to the back, hidden behind a large honey locust tree. Its branches float over the RV, curving around it as a form of shade. There are a few guys who are setting up the small solar lights, lining each RV’s walkway, and I find myself watching them watch me. I offer a small smile, but they all quickly look away, as if they’ve been caught doing something that is forbidden.

  “Hey!” I call out to a young girl who is bending over to shove a light into the grass near ours. She stands and turns toward me slowly, her eyes lighting up briefly. “Do you know where I can find Midnight’s RV?”

  The girl tilts her head, eyes searching mine. Her mouth opens, but just as she’s about to say something, another man is behind her, his hand securely placed on her arm.

  His eyes remain on mine as he says, “Ariana, go and help with the tent.” His lip is curled, his face harsh, but his words are soft, the tension reduced for the small girl.

  She gazes up at me pleadingly, and then her head falls between her shoulders, and she dashes off down the already lit pathway.

  I bring my attention back to the man. “Well, do you know where I can find them?”

  His arms fold in front of his chest, taking an intimidating stance. “You have no place here, witch.”

  Just as I’m about to ask him what the shit he’s talking about, my phone vibrates in my back pocket.

  I pull it out, ignoring him and turning back to find my own way. It’s a text from Rose, explaining how to get to their RV.

  I follow her instructions, finding the large tent not far away, deflated and spread across the grass. I wonder how long they go on the road for, and why I’ve never heard of them before. I need to make sure I do some research on Google the second I’m away from everyone and in my bed.

  “Dove!” Rose calls out, and I turn to face her. She’s waving near Midnight’s purple RV. There’s a small fire pit set up outside of it and chairs circled around it. I can see that all of the Midnight girls are there and a big part of me wishes I didn’t come. I should have stayed in bed, a
way from people. Before I can think of a valid excuse to leave, Rose is bouncing toward me, her arm hooking into mine.

  “They’re not so bad. I mean, the other three. Val is a fucking bitch, and I wouldn’t test her, if you know what I mean,” she whispers in my ear right before we reach them.

  I smile at all of them as I approach, every bit uncomfortable.

  “Hey!” A brunette girl stands, handing me a drink. “I’m Mischa!” She points to the dark-haired girl who is seated beside her. “And that is Maya.” She brushes her hand toward the blonde, who is seated on the other side of the fire, staring at me with her head tilted and her legs crossed. I mean, she’s beautiful, but they’re all contrastingly beautiful. “And that’s Val, but she’s a bitch, so you don’t need to know her. Come sit!”

  Maya watches me from her seat, her eyes wary. She’s quiet. I think I like her.

  “So, how are you finding it?” Mischa sparks the conversation. I’m thankful for that.

  “Ah, let’s see. I was kidnapped, and then—”

  “What she means is that she’ll settle in,” Rose interrupts, squeezing my arm.

  I tilt my head at her, before dropping down in the chair beside Maya.

  Mischa and Rose continue talking, and I pretend to suck down my sour drink. Fucking margaritas. In this weather? No, thanks. Placing the cup back onto my lap, I watch as Mischa goes off about some guy she was seeing and she and Rose continue an easy conversation.

  Maya is relaxed beside me, and it’s not until I smell the sweet smoke of marijuana that I know why. Maya is half African American with long dark hair. She has exotic features with almond eyes and thick eyelashes. Eyelashes that I would honestly kill for. She’s wearing boyfriend jeans and a hoodie with the hood over her head.