Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  While I straddle his waist, he buries his face in my neck. “I’m fucking sorry.” His voice is mumbled, but that doesn’t destroy the fact that every single one of those words had a direct line to my heart.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, massaging his head.

  He tilts his head up to me, and I drop my lips down to his. I kiss him softly, and his tongue sneaks out, licking me in my mouth.

  Everyone starts clapping in the background, and I turn my hand around and flip them off behind my back.

  He pulls away, searching my eyes. “I can’t have you in the final act. Period. We will have to take that up with Delila.”

  “She’s not going to like that,” I answer, and King turns around to face everyone.

  He pushes his fingers between his lips and blows out a whistle. The music pauses. “Yo! Anyone else looking at finding a chick, falling in love, and thinking maybe you’ll kill a fucker for laying hands on her in the final act?”

  Everyone pauses, but my breathing has caught.

  What did he just say?

  He continues. “So everyone understands that if you find love in Midnight Mayhem, you still have to whip your cock out for shits and giggles at the end of the night? None of you bitches are going to detest it? Use mine and P’s relationship as a get out of jail free card?”

  They all agree with a round of murmurs.

  I want to say that’s not fair. Obviously, none of them are in love right now. I turn my head over my shoulder as my eyes fall on Maya, who’s glaring at Killian. “Agreed!”

  Jesus.

  Wait. Back up.

  “Good!” King’s grip tightens around my waist as his attention comes back solely to me. “Guess we have a selling point.”

  “But you said in love,” I whisper, searching his eyes.

  He freezes. “What? You think I didn’t figure I loved your annoying ass way back when you ate all of my cookies?”

  I pull my lip between my teeth and smirk. “You love me?”

  His head jerks back, and he brushes me off. “Outta here, girl.”

  “You heard that, right?” I say to Saskia who is beside us.

  She laughs. “Yup!”

  I bring my lips to his and rub against his growing cock. “Okay, can we go to bed?”

  He lifts me off the ground and starts carrying me to his RV. Everyone starts clapping again with a whole round of “Finally!”

  “Yo! You two need your own fucking RV! Fucked if I’m putting up with that noise!” Kill calls out through his laughter.

  I don’t care. I have King in my arms again, and although our journey wasn’t an easy one, it was one that we both needed to take. Every turn, every bump we hit in the road, only helped pave the way to our future. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you know you love someone, or they know you love them. Sometimes, you still have to fight for it, for them. For us. Marriages fail because so many give up without going through the hurdles. Love is a battlefield, and my knight is a villain.

  Epilogue

  King

  I died the day I lost P. Everything inside of me ceased to exist. I didn’t want to breathe if she wasn’t breathing the same air, exist where she didn’t exist. I cut off all of my humanity like a fuckin’ cheesy vampire and dove straight into the brotherhood. When she came back to me, the time I spent with her, even thinking she was Dove, slowly turned on all the switches that I had so violently flicked off. She will always be not just my soul mate, but my better half.

  “King!” P scolds, walking into the kitchen with my mom in tow behind her. They’re trying to get along, but I think it’s going to be more a work-in-progress. My mother is a hard woman. “Stop eating all of the cookies before everyone gets here.”

  I roll my eyes, tossing the cookie back on the table. “Come here.” She does, fluidly moving across the room and taking a seat on my lap.

  “What if she doesn’t like me anymore?” She turns, her hands coming to the back of my neck.

  “Who?” She can’t be talking about Ash. She and P have been talking on the phone nonstop. Mom is making noises behind us, yelling at the cooks who are trying their hardest to get all of the food cooked for everyone before they get here. We have Thanksgiving and Christmas here; my parents throwing the ultimate bash, and every year, my mom throws a diva fit when something isn’t right.

  “Cartier!” she scolds, as if I wasn’t fucking listening, because I wasn’t.

  “What? She will love you. Stop tripping.” I’m not lying. Cartier and P were tight when they were young, being the same age. Cartier is Kyrin’s baby sister and probably the only girl he gives a fuck about and ever will give a fuck about, but she’s fucking insane. She’s played princess all her damn life and has no problem doing it.

  The front door opens down the hallway, and Mom calls to us, “King!”

  I tap P’s leg, rushing her off. “Ready for some family drama?”

  She snorts. “I’m well acquainted with drama.” I take her hand and pull her under my arm, exactly where the fuck she belongs.

  The door opens, and Kill strolls through with his mom and dad. The Cornelii family, always so fucking strange. Kill slaps my ass in passing before seeking out someone to torment. Behind the Cornelii family is the Nero family—aka Kyrin’s family—and the princess herself. Long teal-colored hair, milky white skin, and bright blue eyes look up at P.

  Her little tattooed arms fly around P’s neck, pulling her in close. “I’m so glad you’re alive, P!” Cartier is the only other person I have ever let call P by the nickname I gave her, and that’s only because the little shit doesn’t scare easily.

  “Move, Cartier. You’re blocking the way. Ky pushes inside and heads straight for the patio out the back. His parents come in, and before I know it, Cartier and P have whisked off somewhere, as if there was no absence.

  Behind the Neros are the Ciceros, aka Keaton’s family. Ash still makes Keres use her last name sometimes, though, what with the power struggle between the two of them. Ash and P’s family is one of the highest ranking to come from Kiznitch because they owned the entirety of the land. The literal land was her family’s; the rest of us just helped find it. There was a war between the Kournikovas and The Brothers way, way back when the settlement happened, and then Ash went and married Keres. Ash jumped into the wheel with him and carved an ace of spades into the metal to help keep her focused and grounded. When we asked her what that ace meant, she just winked and said, “You’ll find yours one day, and you’ll know.”

  My hand comes out to her as she passes, the memory reminding me that I need to ask her. “Ash!” She pauses, turning back to me. God, she looks so much like P. “Your ace, are you going to tell us what that means yet?”

  She shuffles her feet, waiting until Keres disappears into the sea of people. She sighs, folding her arms in front of herself. “I was in love with Klaus, King.” Her eyes soften around the edges. “He was my ace.”

  “As in the game?” I ask, my eyebrow cocked.

  She nods. “You know the old legend. Don’t pretend that you didn’t play a game of Sixers with her.” Her eyebrow cocks as though she already knows the answer.

  Because she does. Because it’s the game we all play with new recruits and/or with each other.

  “I did,” I answer. “But I didn’t know that the ace of spades was a thing?”

  Her mouth splits into a half smile. “It’s just a myth, Kingston…” She turns and disappears. I’m left speechless. Part of the legend back in Kiznitch started with a specific deck of cards. They were essentially the same kind that you buy everywhere, only these were made for an illusionist. The face of the deck was black, with small little demon babies on them. They were creepy as fuck. The game of Sixers was originally a game that was created by Killian’s great-great-great, (and so on), grandfather. During the game, it was fine to be dealt the ace of spades, but if your opponent picked the card from your hand, then that girl or guy, would be either the reason you live or the reason you die. She
would either be your blessing or your fuckin’ curse. In Ash’s view of things, I guess it was more of a curse, because now Klaus is dead. For me, I don’t know if I’ll ever know whether P will be my blessing or my curse. She’d be my blessing because I fucking need her, but she’d be my curse because I’d fucking die for her. But I mean, shit, it’s a myth. Everyone knows that it’s basically illusory, because if it was real, that would be magic, right? And magic isn’t real…

  P

  I sigh, sipping on my cool drink as Cartier prattles on beside me about the next tattoo she’s getting. Apparently, on her leg. She’s so much more beautiful than I remember, now sporting long, wavy teal-colored hair.

  “I heard you and King caused a whole lot of trouble these past couple months.” She waggles her eyebrows.

  I laugh. “Yes, we did. How about you? Why aren’t you in the show?”

  She snorts, wiping her mouth. “You think my psycho brother would allow that? Seems he can be a dirty fuck, but I can’t.” I can’t help the laughter that explodes out my chest.

  “A dirty fuck?”

  She nods. “Yes. A dirty fuck.” She leans forward and takes the joint off Maya. “It isn’t really something I want to do either, and since my brother is filling the duty for the brotherhood, they don’t care too much about what I do.”

  Maya takes it back. “Only who you do.”

  Kyrin pulls out a seat beside Cartier. “Which is fuckin’ no one. Amiright?” He glares at his baby sister, and you can see the dark shadow shift slightly, accommodating her.

  “Wrong!” She chuckles, taking a swig of her drink.

  “I swear to fuck, Cartier, focus on your business.”

  “I do!” she scolds, and watching their back and forth is amusing, right up until Keaton drops down beside me, his eyes on Cartier. The air shifts around us, and suddenly, I feel like I’m interfering on a very intimate moment.

  Cartier’s eyes flutter, but then she plasters a fake smile. “Keats! How are you, my monster?”

  Keaton’s jaw tenses, his eyes coming to mine. “You good?”

  I nod, looking around the table. I watch as everyone slips into conversation. Laughter, arguing between siblings, Kill’s mom walking around half-naked and sitting out near the fire at the back. “Yeah,” I whisper, my eyes going straight for King. “I’m better than good.”

  Killian jumps up on his chair, pressing his fingers between his lips and whistling out. Once everyone is silent, Killian grins, pulling Callan under his arm. “We’re going to play a little game of you hide and we seek!” The parents all roll their eyes, going back to what they were doing, but the younger generation who are here—I’ve noticed it’s not all—remain silent, waiting to hear more.

  I groan, massaging my temples. King’s arm tightens around my waist, pulling me up from my chair. He bites down on my ear. “You owe me a fuckin’ dare.”

  Shit.

  Aftermath

  I sat at the back, where the lights were dim, and the audience was quiet. Alone. Away. Behind the spotlight that shone on the cast. This would be my first show, but it would not be my last. Studying every single one of them and what they do.

  I picked at my popcorn, the butter slipping down my throat, just as Delila Patrova made her way to the center of the ring. She wore a black and lilac ringmaster outfit and a fedora hat. It was almost as though she had not aged at all.

  She brought the mic to her lips and smirked. “Welcome to Midnight Mayhem. We are not a circus, we are not a carnival, and the only thing that you should be afraid of losing tonight, is your sanity…” A creepy haunting melody started playing in the background as the spotlight dimmed to a deep red. Her smirk deepened as she backed up. Six shirtless men wearing dark denim jeans bared themselves, as seven women wearing white lace underwear and bleached fluffy wings came forward. I knew who they were. The six demons of Hell and the seven angels of Heaven. Seven aerials dropped from the roof and I watched in deep fascination as the angels climbed and twisted and flipped around through the silk. The demons chased them up the ropes as “Threats of Romance” by Marilyn Manson played tragically. We watched as every angel was captured by a demon. Slowly, each demon pulled out a Devil Stick and doused them in gas before lighting them on fire. The crowd gasped when one of the demon’s brought the flame to his angel’s wings, setting it ablaze. We watched as the wing slowly burned to a crisp, the angel’s screaming and howling above the music. One after another, the angels dropped to the ground, hunched over their legs, sobbing. It was almost heartbreaking to watch, if I had a heart. Their demon stood behind them, dripping in sweat. Their faces were painted red, their eyes as black as the midnight sky, and their mouths smudged with dark charcoal. The men danced hypnotically to the music with their Devil Sticks, until the music slowly morphed to “Heaven Upside Down” by Marilyn Manson. The angels slowly rose up, as if from the ashes, now wearing black lace panties and bras, with black leather collars latched around their throats. Each demon had an angel, with one demon having two. They grabbed onto a leash and clipped it to their angel’s collar, yanking her back. Each angel is fondled with fire, whips, and chains. The atmosphere is dark and spellbinding. The flashing red lights with the music. The sheer mesmeric feeling of the show already has me on edge. This is the first act, and I know that there are a lot of them throughout the night.

  I was here to watch and absorb every single inch of the show Midnight Mayhem… and Kiznitch would never know that I existed in the back of the crowd. Watching. Waiting. Now is not my time, oh, but it will come, and when it does, I’ll be raising hell with my presence….

  Acknowledgments

  To my husband. For being a muggle, but if you weren’t, you would definitely be Gryffindor with your kind ass. How’d you end up marrying a Slytherin? (pray for him).

  To my kids, for being the best little assholes I could ever ask for.

  To my mama, my sisters, my brothers, and my new little nephew, Matai! I am truly blessed to have the most amazing and supportive family.

  To Sarah, for being my momager. I don’t think she fully understood just what she was signing up for when she became my beta, but now she is my beta, PA, momager, friend, therapist, and my all-round person.

  To Chantal, for being the best distraction I could have asked for. For being my rock.

  *clears throat* I’m not drunk enough for this….

  To Anne, because you’ll always be my sister.

  To Lyla, for being my best friend. You’re one of the strongest girls I know. We’ve been through it all. Made mistakes together, made memories together, and cried together. I can’t wait to walk behind you as you get married.

  To Nichole, for being the best friend a girl could ask for. For drinking my problems away with me, and then curling up in my bed to kick back and Netflix and chill. Drunk. With chocolate wrappers everywhere. You. Are. A. Diamond.

  To Leigh, for reminding me who I am when I forget sometimes. You have had my back more times than I can count. I will always have you. ALWAYS! Just don’t follow me when we’re drunk because I could get us lost again.

  To Tijuana! Meeting you for the first time was just like seeing an old friend. Like how Dove explains her and Rose’s friendship in this book, our souls knew each other before we knew each other.

  To Jacq, you had me read the darkest series I’ve ever read and distracted me from my writing. But it was worth it and I love you.

  SUNNY! Just tell me if I’m the bitch eating crackers.

  To my street queens, I love you. Thank you for being everything that I could ever ask for in a loyal bunch of girls.

  To my bloggers, thank you for taking the time to read and review my words. I appreciate you more than you could know.

  To my readers, if I wrote a 100k novel on how much I love and appreciate all that you are, it still wouldn’t be enough. Thank you for riding with me, staying with me, and joining me. You inspire me and keep me strong.

  My Wolf Pack, you got the dedication, but again, *ho
wls*

  To CrossFit, because without you, I would have committed first degree murder

  To my haters, *waves* heeeyyyy, giirrrlll!

  To my dog, Raze, for reminding me every single day that owning a Husky is just like raising one-hundred toddlers all at once.

  To my other dog, Sarge, for being the toughest little honey bear we could ever had asked for. Also, for making people realize that they shouldn’t be scared of Pit Bulls… but those Huskies…. they shady as fuck.

  Lastly, to anyone who is trying. The ones who are getting through but kicking off their worn shoes at the end of the day. I see you. I love you. And I acknowledge you. Stay strong.

  Xo – Amo.

  Books by Amo Jones

  Elite Kings Club series:

  The Silver Swan

  The Broken Puppet

  Tacet a Mortuis

  Malum: Part 1

  Malum: Part 2

  Sancte Diaboli: Part 1 (coming soon)

  Sancte Diaboli: Part 2 (coming soon)

  Ruined Castles (coming soon)

  In Peace Lies Havoc

  In Fury Lies Mischief

  In Silence She Screams (coming soon)

  ICWR (coming soon)