Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  I blow out the smoke. “Fair, fair.”

  “So you watched her dance, huh?” Kohen grins, and I know that in his sick, perverted mind that images are flashing behind his eyes. The final act was something else entirely when Kohen was in Mayhem. One day, I hope he comes back.

  I throw dust at him jokingly. “Yeah. It was almost fun.”

  “Almost?” He licks his lips. “Come on. Give me something.”

  “It would have been all the way fun if I wasn’t trying to hate her all of the time. Resenting you for maybe having another shot at being happy, but still being happy for you. I don’t know, Koh, it was fucked. I wanted her, but I hated her, because she reminded me of P, and I resented you for having her and hated myself for wanting her, and my head space was ugly. I wanted to fucking kill her, just to take it all away.” Silence stretches between us, and I puff on my smoke a few more times. When I think he’s not going to answer, I raise my eyes up to his and find him watching me carefully.

  “You would have, too.” His face is emotionless.

  “Would have what?”

  “Killed her,” he says. “You’re trained to do it, King. You took your first kill at sixteen years old for the sake of fuckin’ love. Does she know what you were doing the day Dove was killed?”

  I shake my head, flicking the ash off the end of my smoke. “I doubt it. P then didn’t know what I was doing, so P now won’t.” I was training for a kill; I just didn’t know that kill would end up being her mother.

  “Well, maybe Dad and Mom still have hope on some grandkids.” Kohen smirks.

  I flip him off. “Fuck you.”

  P

  Memories are a cruel reminder of what you don’t have anymore. I thought I wanted to know everything, be opened to all that was taken from me all those years ago, but as I stay rolled in a ball on my bed, squeezing my eyes shut, I watch that day over and over again on repeat. I have to force myself not to seek out Killian and demand he slam that box closed again.

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang, bang!

  There were five shots, and then I was running. I saw the car, and Dad climbed out. I was angry with King before I remembered, and now I’m livid. There’s just the small fact that when I opened that box of memories, everything I felt for him rolled in tenfold. Now I’m angry with him, but I’m also other things for him.

  Nothing is going to change the fact he wanted me dead.

  That he had tormented and stalked me for years. He was The Shadow, the man I feared. Now the man I feared is also supposed to be the man I loved? Fuck. That.

  There’s a knock on my door, pulling me out of my panic. “Perse?” It’s Delila’s voice. “Can I come in?”

  I don’t answer, and she takes that as a cue to enter. “I’m sorry.” I want to ask what she’s sorry for, but my mouth won’t open, and I can’t find the urge to ask.

  Because I don’t care.

  Bang!

  “I know this might not help you right now, but I want you to know I have your RV here. I bought it before we got here, actually. You can decorate it however you like, and there’s enough space in there for five of you. It’s actually around the same size as this ridiculously overpriced hell on wheels.” I can just imagine her looking around my room. She sighs. “I’m not going to lie to you, Perse. I knew everything. I knew you when you were a little girl, and I knew the ratchet bitch who you thought was your mother. The witch.” Her hand comes to rest on top of my leg, pressing through the blanket. I swipe away the tears. “I had a feeling you weren’t Dove when I saw you dance. Dove was good at ballet, but you were always better. Your movements were always fluid. Your precision with dance has always been like art. Dove was the same, but there has always been something else about you. An edge to the way you moved. Like you’d take on a role while the song was played. Dove was always a little shy to do that, silenced by the voices that lived inside her beautiful head.” I remain quiet and still, not wanting to interrupt her obvious oversharing in case she pulls back. She stands, and a loud clink sounds out as she drops something onto my bed. “I understand you’ll need your space, so here are the keys. It’s all yours. When you’re ready, we can start on your recruits, and the tent is there for you.”

  Once Delila leaves, I swing up from my bed and throw on a loose shirt and some tights and leg warmers. Snatching up my slippers, I head out of the RV and toward the tent.

  I need to vent.

  I need to dance until my feet bleed, and my muscles ache, to remind me why I’m here, alive, and I’ll do it finally with my slippers tied around my ankles.

  I make my way into the tent, where I see Jay, one of the men who handles the DJ booth. “You want me to hit the switches on, Perse?” News must have traveled fast, and I’m partially thankful for him easing into calling me Perse.

  “Yes, please,” I answer, tossing the keys and my hoodie onto the ground outside of the ring.

  I tie my hair up into a high ponytail and push play on “You Should See Me in a Crown” by Billie Eilish. Lifting my hands into the second position, I roll my head around, closing my eyes and allowing my mind to drift into another dimension. Rolling into an alignment technique, I flick my foot up as the chorus kicks in, and then twist it out into a turnout technique before coming into a pirouette. I continue to dance until my feet ache, and sweat drips off me. Finally, as the song ends, I jump into a split and then slide into a bravura. The song cuts out, and my deep breaths take over me, tears pouring down my face. It was the first time I’ve danced in slippers since before my parents died. Now that I’ve done it, it feels like clarity. Like a dark cloud has cracked open to allow light through. My mind struggled for years to wear my slippers again, and now that I have, I don’t want to take them off.

  “That was beautiful,” a small voice says, and I jump, turning around to face where it came from. The little girl from a couple weeks ago stands there in a long-sleeved cotton sundress and a small leather jacket.

  “Hi!” I whisper, unsure on how to approach her. The last time I tried to talk with her, her father had a hernia. “Your name is Ariana, right?”

  She nods, bringing her fingers to her front. “Papa says that you were cursed, but that you’re free now.”

  I freeze, swallowing. Kneeling down to her level, I smile. “Well, at least it’s lifted now, right?”

  Her little face lights up as she nods. “Can we still be friends?”

  I chuckle. “I thought you’d never ask.” My phone starts vibrating in my hand and I watch as she waves. “I’ll see you later, friend!”

  “Okay,” I whisper. Swiping my phone to answer it, I bring it to my ear. “Hey!”

  Richard sighs. “When are you coming home, pumpkin?” His voice shocks me, but I exhale, relieved to have someone familiar and away from this world.

  I chuckle. “I’ll come home for a visit sooner than you think.” A thought pops into my head. “Actually, hopefully sooner than I think.”

  “To work?” I can hear the question in his tone even though he knows the answer already.

  I blow out a breath of air. “Is it too late to hand in my resignation?”

  “It’s a strip club, Dove. You don’t need that.” I flinch at that name.

  “There’s so much I have to tell you, but my name is actually Perse.”

  Silence.

  “So Dove was your stripper name?”

  I laugh out loud, my hand coming to my mouth.

  “Girl, stop laughing at me. I can’t spank your ass when you’re all the way over the fuck wherever you are.”

  “I’m,” my chest tightens, “a little bit away. I’ll give you a call tonight with more details, ’kay?”

  He grunts, which is Richard’s way of saying yes. He could write an entire dictionary and translations from grunts to meanings.

  Hanging up the phone, I decide to seek out Delila to help me find my recruits. I want to throw myself into dance and my act, and build what I know and wha
t takes away the pain. Pain. Picking up my hoodie, I head back to The Brothers’ RV and get started on packing up my things. It’s funny now that I have my memories back how I know the simplest things that I didn’t know before, like The Brothers of Arms emblem, or the “weird star” I once called it. Each point signifies the suburbs in Kiznitch, and the thick lines that make up the star represent the generations of blood. One day I hope to go back there, maybe learn about my heritage, but right now, I need to move into my RV.

  “I think that’s everything, which isn’t much, but you know…”

  Rose laughs, picking up one of my boxes and making her way out in front of me. “Have you seen your RV yet? It’s fucking red. As in your hair.”

  “I’ve seen the outside.” And it’s hard not to since it’s right behind the boys’ RV. Too close for my liking, but at least I’m out of their hair. I haven’t seen King in days, or any of the boys. It’s as though after that night, they’ve all gone ghost. I feel sick to my stomach about everything that has happened, but at the pit of my stomach holds mine and King’s bond. The organic love I have for him. I know I somewhat miss them all to an extent, but I can’t get past the taste of betrayal that King has left in my mouth after his final lick of defeat.

  The memories are good. I welcome them, but what I don’t, and what I wasn’t prepared for, was the emotion that came with them. Memories aren’t like photographs. You can’t just flip over them and admire their vivid detail. You have to inhale the same air, embrace the same feelings, and whiff the same scent.

  I push the key into the lock and swing the door open.

  “Wow,” I whisper, stepping inside as Rose piles in behind me with Maya behind her.

  “This is sweet! You know, I can totally slide into your act if you want.” Maya shoves me playfully on the arm while blazing up a joint.

  I think over what she has just said, obviously playing with the idea in my head.

  “I was kidding,” Maya says, her eyes flying between Rose and me. “Tell her I was kidding.”

  “What’s wrong with being in my act?” I scold her, dropping the box onto the white marble kitchen counter. “I happen to think my act is going to be pretty fantastic.”

  Maya chuckles, shaking her head. “I’ve come to love you, Sef, but I can’t be living with someone who uses words like ‘fantastic’.” I ignore her new nickname for me, bringing it down to Maya and her peculiar personality.

  I flip her off as she disappears up the stairs. “Of course she furnished it,” Maya calls out. “Sometimes I hate her.”

  My eyebrows raise at Rose.

  Rose shakes her head. “I’ll explain later. We are having a housewarming, aren’t we?”

  I shrug. “I don’t see why not.” I want to talk with Rose about everything that has happened, but I don’t know when or how.

  I climb the stairs and examine the bedrooms. Mine being the master room. It’s much like the boys’ RV, with my room being where King’s is. Soft pink covers are on the bed with gloss white posts where the bed sits in the middle.

  “I was joking,” Maya interrupts my examining. “I mean, as much as it would be an honor to come into whatever you’re about to begin—”

  “Stop.” I bring my hand up, stopping her. “You don’t need to say any more, Maya. I know.”

  She stares at me, her almond eyes coming to mine. “It’s not that. It’s that I’ve always had my own act because…” She stops, and for the first time since I’ve known her, I watch as she cowers slightly. She exhales. “My mother. She’s, well, persistent.”

  I lean against the doorframe, my arms coming to my chest. “Who’s your mom?”

  Maya blushes, and I almost feel bad for asking. “Well...” Her hand comes up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “It’s Delila, actually.” She rolls her eyes.

  I lean back, shocked. “Your mom is Delila?”

  “Yup!” Her eyes slant. “Don’t judge me for that either. My old man was much cooler.”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m not judging you at all.”

  “Good!” She smirks, nudging her head back downstairs. “Let’s have one big party before you bring in your new recruits. I always hate when newbies come in.”

  “Jeez.” I shove her playfully. “Thanks.”

  She laughs. “Girl, I’m not even sorry.” Of course she isn’t.

  Hours pass as I settle into my room, hanging my clothes on their hangers. I pull out my phone and dial Richard, feeling bad on how I left him on our last call. I need to tell him that I won’t be able to make it back when I wanted, and then I need to find something to wear tonight.

  Because I need to blow off some steam.

  Some ancient, fucked-up, and mentally unstable steam.

  After hanging up with Richard, I’m ass deep in my closet with Maya, Rose, Val and Mischa sitting on the bed.

  “Just wear a bikini,” Val says, smirking from behind her glass. She has already started drinking. Surprise, surprise.

  “I’m not wearing a bikini.”

  Val is someone I have come to tolerate, but not necessarily like. I feel like I want to swap stories with them all. Who they are? Why are they here? Who are they damn well related to?

  My fingers brush over a short black slinky outfit. “What are the chances of us maybe hitting a club later?”

  They all pause before chuckling. “I mean, we can,” Maya purrs. “We just never really have.”

  “What?” I scold, standing and grabbing some shoes that will match this scandalous little getup. “You’re in The Big Easy and you’re telling me you guys have never hit Bourbon Street?”

  Val quirks an eyebrow. “Yes, we have, but not to go out as just the girls. Usually The Brothers are with us, if you know what I mean.” She smirks, looking to the side.

  My hands drop to the side of me and I step closer to her, my head tilting. “Are we going to always have this problem between us, Val? Because we’ve both danced on King’s dick?”

  Val freezes, her eyes slanting as they come to me. She seems to battle with her thoughts inside before finally exhaling, bringing her glass back to her lips. “No. You’re right.” She stands, swiping her hands on her short little skirt. “Truce?”

  I examine her hand. “What were you doing in his room that day anyway?”

  She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow again. “Oh, so you care?”

  Of course I do. “No,” I answer smoothly. “I want to know.”

  Val exhales. “I went to try to talk to him to see why he wasn’t sleeping with me anymore. Nothing happened. I’m sorry for allowing you to think it did.”

  I sigh, watching as her head bows slightly between her shoulders. “I believe you.”

  Her hand slips in mine. “You have my word, but Perse, not again.”

  “Good! I want him to suffer.”

  I think it’s the first time I’ve ever known her to look serious. “The King never suffers.”

  I humph, hanging the dress in front of her. “Louis Vuitton anyone?”

  Val smirks. “She’s catching on.”

  An hour later, we’re all primed to the nines. I’m wearing an LV black dress that clings tight and hangs to my upper thighs. It’s see-through at my midriff and my ass, so I’m wearing a G-string and a black lace bra. Grey Goose, Hendricks, and old whiskey line the tables outside the RV, with everyone surrounding them. No fire pit. No relaxed clothes. This party is tasteful, upper class, and I get the feeling this is the theme for the girls. “All I Ever Wanted” by Mase is playing as I dance down the steps, my red-bottomed heels clinking against the metal.

  “Yaaaaassss!’ Rose slurs, raising her bottle to the air at my entrance. I sing the chorus fluently to Rose, censoring the N-bomb when Rose pauses, eyebrow cocked, to see if I’ll say it.

  I drop down low, raising my bottle in the air, dancing in circles. Val and Mischa erupt in laughter, with Rose taking my bottle off me, bringing it to her lips.

  “Girl, gimme this.”

 
I laugh, dancing and spinning around to face Delila, who raises her champagne glass to me. My laughing simmers as I make my way to her. I want to talk to her.

  “Hey, Justice.” I smile at Justice who is standing beside her, his arm hooked protectively around her waist.

  “Hey, Little Bird. How you doin’?”

  “Better now.” I wink, before looking back at Delila.

  Justice bows, excusing himself and leaving Delila and me to each other as he gets lost in the pool of bodies. The sun is only just setting, leaving a warm hue in the sky.

  “You like it?” Delila asks, a genuine smile on her mouth.

  I laugh. “Yes. Thank you, Delila. I think I had the wrong impression of you when I started.”

  “Oh no.” She shakes her head, laughing and holding her drink in. “You definitely did not. You’re just,” she searches my eyes, sighing, “special. You’re special, Perse. Very special to not just Kiznitch, but to us, Midnight Mayhem. I hope you find a home with us.”

  I smile, snatching a glass from a passing waiter. “I think I will.” Regardless of the fact my soul mate has been deceiving me for months on end, is what I want to say.

  “Another thing.” Her hand comes to my arm as I turn around. “I found the recruits for you. Listen, can we sit?”

  I search her eyes. I somewhat have come to the conclusion that I trust this woman. Through everything that has happened these past months, she has been the only one—not including my psycho friends—that has remained constant. “Sure.”

  I drop down onto the chair beside her. “So, you found some?”

  She nods, sipping on her champagne and draping her red dress over one leg. “Yes. We don’t have many to choose from right now, but what I want you to know, Perse, is that we don’t want to harm these girls. We keep them there to condition them.” I think over her words, but before I can answer her, she’s continuing. “The three that I chose are the best that you could ask for anyway. One of them is a delicate subject, one is a male, and the other is so broken I don’t think we can save her, so just comfort her when you can.” I take another sip of my champagne. Half of me wants to run from this conversation, but I know it’s only because I’m afraid of who these people are and what they’ve endured. I know I need one massive blowout tonight before I take on responsibility for them.