Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  Dad laughs, a full throat chuckle after a while, shaking his head. “Man, you boys really are going to be the death of her.”

  I shrug. “Is that all?”

  “No.” Dad clears his throat. “This King and Persephone thing. It full swing?”

  I freeze. I don’t want to say no, but I don’t want to say yes either. “It’s where it needs to be right now.”

  Dad searches my eyes, finding the answer he so desperately wanted between the words I didn’t speak. “Well, bring her home for Christmas anyway. I’m sure we are going to have a full table like every year.”

  I shrug. “She’d come anyway. Delila has become far too attached.”

  “Just Delila?” Dad cocks a brow, just as Delila interrupts us from behind.

  “If you’re both done, we’re ready to carry on our discussions.”

  We both are still chuckling as I make my way back into the room. I’m halted, momentarily, when my eyes come to P, who is sitting on the sofa, laughing with Kohen. The fuck? Kohen isn’t funny at all. He’s about as funny as The Joker.

  I pause, watching as her head tilts back, flashing her teeth and the small dimple in her left cheek. The air shifts between them as P reaches inside of her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. Kohen’s Joker smile vanishes instantly as he slowly reaches out to take the paper. He nods at her appreciatively before carefully putting it into his pocket. I know how I feel about P, but my feelings toward this one girl have never been the issue. It’s what I would do for her that scares me, and I don’t scare easily.

  I slowly sink back onto the sofa beside P, who flops her leg over my lap. I lean back, running my finger over my upper lip and watch her and Kohen talk, moving fluidly through their conversations. When Delila calls for our attention, Kohen turns around and winks at me over his shoulder.

  Fucker.

  I trust my brother to an extent, but I don’t trust anyone with P, much less him.

  “So, it’s settled.” Delila claps her hands. “We will conduct a plan to take back the power they think they have.”

  “And what’s that?” my mom says, ignoring everyone. My mother is like the Dark Queen. No one pushes her boundaries but my brother, my father, and me. Everyone else cowers in her presence, and with good reason. There are some pretty rough stories that float around about my mother and her attaining my father’s attention.

  Delila grins. “Well, I think we cage all their best acts. How about we start there?”

  “So close to Christmas?” Maya asks, her eyebrow cocked. “That’s a bit rough. Even for you, Mother.”

  Delila sneers at her, before addressing us again. “Because it’s Christmas. I’m feeling… light.”

  “I have a better plan,” Maya says, leaning forward on her elbows. “We put someone in that they don’t know is with us.”

  I freeze.

  Delila snaps at Maya. “They know you’re Mayhem, Maya. Stop talking. All that weed is going to your brain.”

  “Not me.” Maya rolls her eyes. “Someone new!”

  Oh no.

  P

  “Absolutely fucking not.” Delila’s eyes swing between Maya and me, and I find myself standing and making my way over to Saskia and Callan, further protecting them. “No.” After giving the dove drawing to Kohen, I found I was right, and it had something to do with him and my sister. I don’t know what, but Kohen’s whole vibe dropped when he saw the familiar drawing. He placed it in his pocket with a smile. Had I earned a smile from the one who doesn’t possess a soul?

  “Okay! Well, how about this?” Delila’s voice breaks through. “After New Year’s, we’ll walk through this again. The fact is, something is happening, and we need to take control.” Delila’s eyes drift to Maya before coming back to me softly. I see the apology in her eyes. It’s already settled. One of my own will be going undercover, and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it.

  Shit!

  “I need to dance.” I turn, leaving the room and passing all of the adults. I love Delila—she has taken me under her wing more times than I can count—but I can’t agree with this. Not ever. I can’t agree to put one of my girls or Kenan into the pit of hell.

  I’m pushing out the door when my harem follows behind me.

  “Are you okay, Perse?” Saskia asks, stepping beside me.

  “Yeah,” I answer, walking back toward the compound. “I just need to dance. Let off some steam.”

  Kenan comes up on the other side with Callan beside him. “You know, we’ll be okay if one of us has to go.”

  “Fuck that!” Kenan scoffs. “Have you heard of Patience?” We’re making our way out of the clearing now and I take a sharp turn for the tent, knowing I have some clothes there.

  “I haven’t,” I say, shrugging. “I’ve heard the name a lot lately, but haven’t had the time to ask about her.”

  “Patience isn’t a her, it’s a show. They’re like us, from Kiznitch, only they don’t do shows. I mean, they do, but their shows are underground and for one purpose only,” Kenan mutters.

  I shove open the door. “And what’s that?”

  “To sell you.”

  I freeze. “Holy shit!”

  “Yep,” Callan murmurs, and I follow her through the entrance. “It started because a couple of people were offended for not being picked for Midnight Mayhem, and then it grew. It seems selling humans, girls to be exact, is worth more money than what people pay for a Midnight Mayhem show.”

  “Are you sure?” My eyes narrow. “I mean, twelve-hundred large isn’t exactly cheap!”

  “That’s how much they pay?” Saskia freezes, her eyes wide. “That’s a lot of money.”

  “No shit,” Kenan scolds. “But yeah, so once a month, they host a show that’s at an undisclosed building. The most powerful people in America, people you couldn’t imagine, attend them. They get a text the night of and the rest is history. I mean, if you ask me, that’s fucked up. I know Midnight Mayhem is fucked, but they’ve always stayed in a moral lane.”

  “Eh.” I shrug. “I mean, sure. But not really.”

  “What, because of the sex?” Kenan grabs his cock and his head tilts back as he bites on his lower lip.

  “You are crazy.” I shake my head.

  He winks at me. “Go get dressed.”

  I’m still laughing when I move away from them and slip backstage, heading straight for my duffel bag that’s hidden beneath a chair. I pull out some ripped boyfriend jeans and a Calvin Klein crop top. The boyfriend jeans are way too big for me but still manage to hang off my hips, courtesy of my ass. I stroll back outside, piling my long hair onto the top of my head, but then change my mind and ruffle it back out again.

  Jay hollers from the DJ booth ahead and I raise my hands at him, signaling him to hit me with a mix.

  I start snaking my body around the place as The Weeknd’s “The Birds Part 2” starts playing softly through the speakers. Rolling my head back until it looks almost inhumane, I roll back to the front of the stage and move my body to the music. He doesn’t want anything like that with you. You’re still the annoying little kid he was stuck with all his life. I swing my hair around in circles, riding the slow beat and bringing my hand down the front of my body, down my tight abs. “Trade It All Part 2” mixes into the song. I change my movements to tight, hip-hop moves. “The Dark of You” by Breaking Benjamin mixes in next. It’s slow, throwing me off beat. Literally. My footsteps falter at the change of pace as I take a couple steps backward, waiting to gather enough of the rhythm to be able to use. I start flicking around the place in ballet movements, standing splits and swinging around. When the chorus kicks in, I grab my head and circle it around, entrapped in the song. Sweat pours out of me as the music hydrates me again. Anything but Breaking Benjamin. I roll my body back up off the ground, feeling a bit weird doing ballet in inappropriate clothing. The chorus drops again, and I pike up, pressing one foot into my inner thigh and spinning around in circles, dropping to the ground just as “Lalala�
�� starts pumping. I shift into that song, shaking my ass around the dance floor. The rest of my crew piles onto the stage, and we laugh as they all start dancing.

  Kenan makes an effort to grab my hips, so I go with it. “In Those Jeans” starts playing and it turns into a Kenan and Perse show. He hooks his fingers into my belt loops, pushing my ass into his crotch. I bend over, rolling my ass and grinding into him.

  Okkkuurrrr.

  I laugh, biting down on my lower lip, as I raise up slowly, rolling against him. He drops in front of me, his face deep in my crotch. I grab the lower part of his arm, dropping down in front of him and snaking my arms out. I grab his crotch, smirking while rolling sexy circles around him, teasing. I reach for my crotch and pull it softly while rolling my body. The chorus hits again, and he slides into my legs again.

  I laugh this time, signaling cut to Jay.

  The lights flick back on, and King is sitting in the front row, his hoodie covering his face. Kyrin is beside him, whispering into his ear while his eyes go up and down Kenan, probably sizing him up. Hopefully in a sexual way.

  “Hey,” I murmur, looking at King.

  He gets up from his chair and leaves.

  I rush forward, chasing him. “King!” He ignores me. When we get outside, I grab for his arm, laughing what just happened off. “Hey!”

  He swings around, cutting me with a glare. “What, P?”

  I still. “Wait, why are you mad now?”

  He pulls at his hair. “Everything is fucked.” He grips me around my arm and yanks me toward his RV. Stepping into it is like taking a step back into the past. The smells, the setting. My small little room in the back. It all feels like lifetimes ago. He starts pacing in the kitchen, and I take a seat tentatively. King is like a ticking time bomb. Only when he explodes, those he loves and keeps close to his heart never get touched.

  “Do you know what this life is about, P? I mean, really?” He pauses abruptly in front of me.

  “No? I mean, yes but no. I’m hoping I’ll learn everything else as it goes on, but King, this is my family. You are my family. The Brothers are my family, and Delila may as well be my mother.”

  He shakes his head, dropping down onto the sofa while exhaling. His knee jiggles from beneath his elbow as his head hangs between his shoulders. “You were right when you called me a liar.” His voice is smooth but thick like cognac. Easy enough to slide down your throat, but with the right amount of dosage, it could kill you.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, kneeling in front of him and bringing my hand to his arms.

  He looks up at me. “I do fuckin’ want you, P. I’ve wanted you since I was an adolescent child, and as sick as that sounds, I don’t give a fuck. I fucking want you.”

  “I’m here,” I plead softly, needing him to wrap me in his arms and tell me everything is going to disappear or work out. Our lives will figure themselves out. Only I know that’s not going to happen. I know he’s not going to tell me that, because truthfully, I know this can’t happen.

  My heart snaps in my chest. “I can’t lose you again, King.”

  He hisses out a deep breath and leans back in his chair, flinging his hoodie over his head. The night is drifting in, darkening the inside. “I can’t fuckin’ share you, P. Ever. Even when you’re not mine officially, you’re still mine. That’s how it’s always going to be. I can’t fuckin’ function knowing you’re walking this earth, and it’s not me you’re walking it with. I can’t fuckin’ share you.”

  “What?” I rear back. “What has that got to do with anything?”

  He stands and searches through the cupboards. He takes out a clear bottle of Grey Goose, pouring some into a glass.

  He turns, facing me and bringing it to his mouth, shooting it back. “The final act. We always have to participate. You really think I want other men salivating over you and seeing you in questionable positions, even if you’re just with me? It turns me into a feral fucking maniac just thinking of that.” I stand and walk toward him.

  Toe to toe.

  Converse to military.

  My hand snakes around the back of his neck, and instead of his touch coaxing my pain, it only fuels my empty pit with easily digestible contents. “We can work through it.”

  He pushes me away.

  I snatch his face back to mine, my fingers around his cheek. “Fuck you if you give up on me again, King. Fuck. You.”

  He laughs sarcastically. “You think me doing this is giving up on you, P? Quite the fucking opposite.”

  “How so?”

  The door slams open behind us, but neither of us turns to pay it any attention. Music pours through our empty silence. “How, King?”

  He steps forward, leaning down until his lips touch mine.

  I stop breathing.

  “Because you get to live a life without me.” Then he walks out of the RV, leaving me breathless on the spot.

  “Are you okay, Perse?” Saskia says, and I turn to face her.

  She’s dressed in a tight crop top and skinny jeans, her makeup done to the nines, making her crazy blue eyes stand out. “Yes.” I exhale. “I have to be.” Though I’m angry. Like angry as fuck that I feel like we’ve done a complete one-eighty.

  He wants me. I know he does. Not because he says the words, but because of the way the energy in the room crackles anytime we’re near. Like an explosion ready to collide. He’s ice and I’m fire, and every other element in-between doesn’t matter.

  She hands me a drink, and I take it, sipping straight away. It tastes good. Like ginger ale only with vodka.

  “Come. We’re all out in the middle. I think it’s called the pit?” Her perfect eyebrow is arched.

  “Yes.” I chuckle, hooking my arm in hers. “Party pit.”

  “So, how are you liking your first week with Mayhem?”

  “To be honest, I’m not digging it.”

  I laugh as we head out of The Brothers’ RV, making our way to where the loud music is coming from. A fire pit is blazing in the middle with people seated in a circle.

  I drink the rest of the alcohol and then make Saskia tell me where I can get more.

  She takes a seat of her own, away from the crowd. When Killian tries to sit next to her, she moves. I watch and laugh as Killian sits there confused.

  “Yo!” He nudges me as I drink my second glass and make my third. “What’s her deal? How have I never been able to lay a girl?”

  “You won’t lay that one,” I answer, studying Saskia as she sits on a rock, peacefully okay with being alone and watching the fire.

  “But whyyyyyy?” he groans like a child.

  “Ew.” I slap him. “Stop that right now and go one night without fucking someone.”

  He drops his lip and I know it’s supposed to look ridiculous, but because it’s Kill, it only looks slightly adorable. I say “slightly” because he’s also annoying. Once I’ve drunk my third glass and filled my fourth, ignoring the laughter behind me, I take a seat between Maya and Rose.

  “Hello, ladies!”

  Rose rolls her eyes. “You throwing shade at me since you have new friends?”

  I shove her playfully. “Shut up. I am not.”

  Rose giggles, taking a sip of her drink. “Damn. I so can’t wait for Christmas at the Axtons’.”

  I drink two more and steal Maya’s vodka bottle, taking swigs out of that. “Please don’t say that. It gives me anxiety.”

  Maya snatches the bottle back. “I need this more than you.”

  My eyes go up to what she’s looking at. Killian now talking with Callan.

  “Oh God…”

  Maya shrugs. “It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

  “What is up with you two anyway? I’m confused.”

  She laughs, looking between my glass and me. “Because you’re drunk, or because of Killian and me?”

  “Not sure.” I sink the rest of my drink. “Both, I think.”

  “Well.” She exhales. “He and I have been best friends since we we
re babies. Inseparable, that’s us. Only we’re just friends. There was this one time when I was younger that we had sex. He wanted to be my first, and I wanted him to be my first, but after that, he shifted me back into the friendzone, and I him. He scares everyone off me, but I sit there and take him with everyone else.”

  “Sounds like these boys have a pattern.”

  Maya smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Kill doesn’t. He just doesn’t care.”

  “Yo! Perse!” Keaton waves me over with his big, burly, inked, demonic arm. I notice a lot of things about Keaton, and one is that he talks to no one. I mean no one. Except for The Brothers and Delila. He sneers at everyone else. I’m thankful I have never seen his feral side, because he’s scary enough to look at, and that five o’clock shadow is not helping.

  “Yes, brother dearest.” I drop down beside him.

  He shakes his head. “Wanna sing?”

  My eyes go up to King, who’s sitting in a chair opposite us with his hoodie drawn. He has a bottle of whiskey dangling between his fingers, his dead eyes drawing all of the energy out of the room and throwing it into my chest.

  “Sure!’ I answer recklessly.

  He starts singing the opening to Billie Eilish’s “Ocean Eyes.” It throws me off because I wish he would have played something else, something with him singing too, not just me alone. I sing through the lyrics anyway, and when the chorus hits, I can’t help but find my eyes on King.

  Everyone else disappears around us, and it’s just he and I and the crackle of electricity that’s passing between us. I don’t move, never leaving until the song finishes and Keaton shoves me playfully. “That voice.”

  I laugh, but then when I find myself disappearing behind my smile, a stab of loneliness beats at my heart.

  King nods his head, raising his glass to his mouth.

  I stand and make my way to him because I want this. I want him. I’ve not gone through all that I have all to just give up on him.

  I’m standing in front of him when his knees separate and his head tilts back. I see it in his eyes what he wants me to do, so I snake my hand around the back of his neck and lower myself onto his groin.