Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

My shoulders jerk as memories flash through me of Jack drugging me and then trying to rape me again.

  King steps into the shower, military boots and all, his arm wrapping around my waist and taking a seat on the floor. He pulls me between his thighs and I rest against his chest, crying.

  Yes. Yes, I can trust this man.

  “Give me your pain, Dove,” he whispers into my hair. “Give me all of it.”

  “Why.” I shake, pressing against him harder.

  “To numb mine.”

  I suck in a breath, pushing off his chest and looking into his eyes. Water pours over his hoodie, and I reach up, pushing it off his head to expose his hair. I run my fingers through it, my finger coming down the side of his cheek. “You’ve grown so much.”

  He pushes my finger away. “Ditto.” He stands, pulling me up with him. When we’re both standing again and I’m leaning against the wall, I run my index finger across his lip and he freezes. Have I overstepped? I don’t care. Right now, I want to kiss him. Even if we don’t go further than this, I want to kiss him.

  I lean forward and he remains completely still, unmoving. When my lips touch his, his arm tightens around my waist. My hand comes to his face and my mouth opens as his mimics mine. His tongue sneaks out across my lower lip before he’s picking me up with one arm, my legs wrapping around his torso. The song has switched to “Crawl” now, and I’m thankful for the angry tone from Breaking Benjamin drowning out my thoughts.

  He shoves me against the wall, his head pulling back and his eyes searching mine. He has one hand pressed against the wall while the other is wrapped around my waist.

  “You want to do this again?”

  “Fix me,” I whisper, leaning into his lips. “I don’t care if it’s just right now. Just fix me, King. You’re the only one who can.”

  “Why is that?” he asks, and his voice washes over me like silk, turning my limbs to mush.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper, clenching him around me. “Maybe because I’ve always been and always will be yours.”

  “Even if I can’t have you?” he asks, tilting his head. The light behind the shower door creates a perfect shadow for his sharp jaw.

  I swallow down the pain those words cause me. “Even if you can’t have me.”

  His lips fall on mine as he pins me to the wall with his hip. His kissing slows until I’m wriggling and panting for him. Soaking for him. And only him.

  I reach for the buckle of his jeans to shove his pants down when his kisses go down my collar, down my sternum, and over my belly. His lips come to my inner thighs and his tongue snakes out as he licks me from the crease of where my thigh meets my apex and brings it straight to my clit, pressing against it with his tongue. He grabs my thigh and swings my leg over his shoulder.

  “King,” I pant. “I want you inside of me. Please,” I whimper.

  “I can’t,” he murmurs, flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue.

  “Why?” I groan, even though I don’t want him to stop doing what he’s doing, my hands buried in his hair.

  “You know how I fuck, P. I can’t be gentle.”

  His tongue slices me in half down below before slowly circling my clit. I ride against his face, the water dropping down over us. His finger slips between my folds and I come violently, crashing around him. My release drips down my inner thigh, but my muscles release the tension.

  Slowly, he stands back to his feet, his eyes solely on me. His focus eating up everything that is me. The intensity in the air shifts around us as we remain locked. I feel his finger swipe up my inner thigh as he stands, bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking off the cum that was obviously on his finger. It is by far the sexiest thing I have ever witnessed, and it being done by King? Deadly.

  “Dance with the Devil” is playing now and I start chuckling, breaking the cackle of the intense atmosphere. “I’ve just figured out that you have a Breaking Benjamin playlist playing.”

  “What?” he jokes, smirking. “You just figured that out?”

  I shove him playfully, my eyes landing on the tattoo over his lower hip. My fingertip glides over it softly. “What does this mean?”

  He sucks in a breath. “When I was getting my SOK tattoo, I told the artist to do this one, too. I wanted them done at the same time.” He pauses, grabbing my hand and pressing against the rose that doesn’t have much detail, bland and dying. “That’s Dove’s spot.” Then he moves his finger to the other one. The detailed rose with bright red petals and the smallest details sketched in. “That’s yours.”

  I lean up and press my lips to his. “I love it. I’m sorry you went through losing me.”

  He doesn’t smile or move. He remains passive. “I’d do it again if I got to have P here and not Dove. Trust me, having you alive is like I’ve been given a second chance or something.”

  “Well, don’t fuck it up!” I holler jokingly, as I exit the shower.

  King wraps a towel around my body from behind me, our eyes connecting in the mirror. It’s the first time I’ve seen the bruises on my face, but they’re still not as bad as I had expected. “Thank you, King.”

  He remains focused on me. “Always, P. Just don’t make a habit of defying me.”

  I smile gently and watch as he disappears into his room, leaving the door open. “The girls brought over some clothes for you. They’re on the bed.”

  “The girls?” I ask, leaning against the vanity.

  He nods. “Your girls. Saskia and Callan, and Rose. Kenan tried to get in, but I locked him out.”

  “King!” I scold him. “Don’t be mean to my crew.”

  King shrugs, ripping off his clothes. Instantly, my libido pings to life. Shameless. I am shameless. King is the cure for my broken and battered soul. One cannot exist without the other. Quickly spinning around, I grab the only toothbrush that’s in here and squirt toothpaste onto it, brushing my teeth. I sigh before rinsing it off and putting it back.

  “Sorry,” I murmur, swiping my mouth and entering the room now that he’s changed. “That was a bit unhygienic, but I really needed to brush my teeth.”

  “Considering my mouth has been on your pussy and my cock in your ass, pretty sure I don’t care.” He throws on new boots and gestures to the clothes. “Get changed and then we need to go have a meeting with Delila, if you’re up for it?”

  I nod, reaching for the skinny jeans and T-shirt. I drop my towel and change quickly, ignoring the fact that King is probably staring at everything. Once I have my Chucks on my feet, we make our way downstairs. The talking and mumbling silence as I take the final step.

  “Wow, you know, you guys are really discreet,” I joke, looking around at all of The Brothers.

  Keaton is pacing back and forth, and when he sees me, he stops and takes three big steps until I’m wrapped in his burly arms. “This fucker wouldn’t let anyone near you for the past twenty-four fucking hours.”

  King flips him off and heads toward the door. “P.”

  “I’ll be back.” My eyes find Killian, who hasn’t looked at me. His hands are buried in his hair, his elbows on the table. I find myself beside him, reaching up to touch his hands. “Kill?”

  His eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, come to mine. “Worst twenty-four hours of my life.”

  “Ah, you’re not so scary after all, huh?”

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “Little Bird, we are not good people. Not even decent. We’ve all killed, almost been killed, and some of us,” his eyes flick to Kyrin, “have been through unmistakably disgusting ordeals, but lemme tell you.” His eyes narrow on mine. “Nothing has scared me like walking into that barn did.” My heart softens and I pat his head.

  “I love you too.”

  “AYYYY!” Killian jokes, rearing back. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. No one said shit about love!” I roll my eyes and make my way toward King, who is still standing with the door open. “Tell her that Kill doesn’t love!” I can still hear him protesting when the door closes and we make our wa
y across the field to the tent. Instead of going inside, though, we snake around the back and toward the mansion. I know how Delila lives—hell, I’ve seen her mansion in New York.

  “King.” I reach out for his arm, pausing his movements.

  “Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Don’t put words in your mouth that I can’t follow up with, P.” His eyes search mine.

  “Why?” I ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask for way too long.

  He pauses, and just when I think he’s not going to answer, he does. “Because you’re too good for me. Because I break everything that falls on my hands!”

  I step up to him, my eyes commanding his as my hand wraps around the back of his neck. I yank him down to my level so our noses touch. “I’ve been in your hands since I was one day old, King.”

  “Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes deep in mine. “And look at what good that has done.” He pulls away, leaving me standing here alone.

  The wind whisks through my hair, and just as he steps through the door, I call out, “I know why you did it!” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “Follow me all those years. I know why.”

  He steps backward and spins around to face me. “Why. P? Why do you think I stalked you for years?”

  “Because I was your task, to watch and wait, to pounce, but the other half of you knew, King. Deep down, you knew I wasn’t Dove.”

  “I didn’t,” he whispers.

  “You’re a liar,” I counter.

  He picks me up by the backs of my legs and slams me against the wall on the patio, probably giving everyone inside a show of our own. “I’m many fucking things, P, but a liar is not one of them.”

  “Then why?”

  “Why?” King counters. I can see his anger simmering beneath his cool exterior. “Because you’ve been wanted, hunted for years before your mother lost her shit.” He exhales. “Because even though I knew what I had to do, I knew you were my brother’s one true love. The one girl who could bring his sanity back to him, but I still didn’t want to give you to him. I still wanted you even though I knew I shouldn’t!”

  My airways close in. “That’s not a bad thing, King.”

  “No,” he mutters, his hand coming to the front of my throat where he massages gently. “But it’s a dangerous thing.”

  He drops me back to the ground. “There’s a whole lot you need to hear.” Then he disappears into the house, leaving me breathless and twisted in knots.

  P

  Delila’s eyes glisten as I walk in, a glass of vodka on the rocks dangling between her fingers. She exhales. “Goddammit, Perse. Way to freak us out.” I lower myself onto the plush white sofa as she stands and pours herself another drink.

  Maya, Val, Mischa, Rose, Saskia, Callan, and Kenan are seated around the enormous sitting room. There’s a large U-shaped sofa that is facing the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking where King and I just came from.

  I was right. We would have given them all a show.

  “We need to talk,” Delila says, just as Justice walks in with more people behind him.

  I notice a few of them. One being Killian’s mom, the sex-crazed addict, and another being King’s mom. I wince when I see her. I find Keaton’s—well, our mom—Ash, and their fathers, as well as a few older men and women. There was another woman who walked in too, but she came alone. She looked out of place the most, wearing a knit cardigan and a long dress. Her blonde hair was pinned back in a braid, and her eyes looked tired.

  “Help yourselves. I don’t have time to call the maid.” Delila gestures to the small bar that’s tucked away in the corner. I watch as some follow and gather drinks and others take a seat in various parts of the room. No one is speaking. The air is suddenly thick, and my anxiety comes in quicker.

  I lean into King out of instinct, and his arm wraps around my back, forcing me closer to him. He presses his lips to my head. “You’re safe.”

  I trust his words, but it wouldn’t be the first time I have, and he’s failed me one way or another. Trust is a learning process. You can completely trust someone, but it will still be a work-in-progress.

  “Right.” Delila claps her hands, standing in front of her chair. “I would like to take this moment to allow anyone who is looking to harm Perse because of her parents’ mistakes to step forward right now, so I know who to kill first.” Some chuckles vibrate around as well as gasps of shock. King’s shoulders shake beside me, his face burrowing into the back of my neck to hide his laughter.

  “No one?” Delila looks around at everyone. “Good, because although I know The Brothers and Four Fathers run this world and we answer to them,” her eyes fly straight to King’s father, “I have no problem ending anyone if someone else comes after my prized possession. In fact!” She raises a hand, and I wonder if she has slightly lost the plot after all this time. “If you come near any of my prized possessions, I will see to that ending.” She exhales peacefully and finally falls to her sofa, takes a sip of her vodka, and then flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Now to the issue at hand, Patience.” I’ve heard that name be passed around a lot lately.

  Kaius steps out of King’s mom’s grasp, a cigar hanging from his mouth. He reminds me of a drug lord. Tony Montana. “Patience wanted Persephone because they knew her linage with Mayhem. They didn’t get her. It’s settled. We part ways for now.”

  Delila shakes her head, throwing back more vodka. “Nope. I’m not okay with that. King, are you okay with that?”

  King freezes, and then slowly peels himself away from me, his eyes going to his father. “No. I’m not.”

  Kaius shakes his head. “You’re blinded, son.”

  “Sorry I’m late! You fuckers didn’t invite me!” Kohen stumbles into the room wearing suspenders and a tie. His eyeliner is smudged beneath his eyes and his colorful socks are pulled up to his knees. His hair is a jumble of chaos like he hasn’t showered in days and his mouth is in a perfect O when his eyes land on mine. “Oh, wow. Looky what we ’ave here.” He staggers toward me, snatching a bottle from the bar.

  “Jesus, Dahlia, stop your son,” Draya murmurs, shaking her head while sipping on her glass.

  The woman who looks uncomfortable twists her fingers together, her eyes always coming back to mine.

  Kohen drops onto the other side of me, taking a long swig of the bottle. He stares at me blankly, void of all emotion. It’s like staring into a machine.

  “We share. Did King tell you that?”

  “Fuck off, Kohen.” King cuts him with a death glare before we all take our attention back to Delila.

  “Personally, I think it’s time we start fighting back toward Patience. This is the first time they have ever tried to actively step on our toes by using one of our own. Nonetheless…”

  “Ahhh, yes, let’s talk about little Jack. Where is he?”

  King answers quickly, “Dead.”

  His father’s eyes go to him. “And was it cleaned properly? I can’t have anything falling back on us. We’ve lived beneath the shadows, quite literally, for decades. I won’t have your dick getting us into trouble.”

  “It’s clean,” King clarifies. “He changed teams and went to Patience. Not sure for how long, but I’m gathering it has been a while.”

  “Actually, Jack did things to Perse while she was in our care, so I would say that he needed to be weeded out. He and his mom were drug addicts. When they saw an opportunity with Perse, they jumped, knowing that Patience would pay big bucks for a Kiznitch, especially one of the Hendry girls.” They start bickering in the background, so I look to King, finding him watching me. I focus on his soft lips, the dip from his cheekbone, and his perfectly structured nose.

  I want this. You. I say.

  The fuck you don’t. He replies.

  “Where are our brothers anyway?” Delila asks, her eyes flying around the room.

  King finally drags his attention away from me and to Delila. “They’re not coming. They’ll agree to whatever I agree to.”

  Delila
nods. “So it’s settled? We will conduct a plan?”

  “Son,” King’s dad interferes. “A word?”

  King squeezes my hand and then stands, disappearing with his dad behind the door.

  King

  As soon as we’re out of view, Dad turns toward me. “Do you know what you’re doing? Had she not been in the picture, would your decision still be the same?”

  I think over his words, though I’m pretty sure I don’t have to think long. I will always do what’s best for Kiznitch—period. It’s why I’m my father’s son, why I will take his place when he passes, because I have no problem making decisions for the families, and most of all mine.

  “Yes,” I answer, fishing out my pack of smokes from my back pocket and biting one out. I flip open my Zippo, grinning that I still own it, before blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Like you even have to ask, Pops.”

  “Listen.” Dad sighs, and I know what’s coming. The talk about how I stress my mom out and how there has always been bad juju around the Hendry twins because of their witch mother. When I say “witch,” I mean she practiced witchcraft. She called herself a white witch when our parents were younger. People thought they could go to her to be healed, but in actuality, she ended up cursing everyone she touched. I mean, not a real curse, but she let off bad stigma amongst those she touched. It’s one of the reasons why a lot of people who are in Midnight Mayhem steered clear from P when they saw her. They thought she’d—I don’t know—work voodoo on them without even knowing it. When she found out about Dove and P, she became more violent with her evil. “I know she means a lot to you. You four have this twisted little bond—and I blame that on your mother and her poor choice of friends.” My mom was always very close with P’s father. It’s why we were practically raised together. Whether they fucked or not is a different story. You never know in this world. Very rarely do wives and husbands remain in a completely monogamous relationship. “It puts stress on your mother who thinks you will make the wrong decision.”

  I roll my eyes, puffing on my smoke. “Mom needs to chill. She’s getting old. She needs a new hobby. She wants my Aston Martin. Well, she can take it.”