“Too busy. This last week has been busy. When are you coming back?”
One week. Okay, so twenty-two girls only equaled one week. Hearing Rich’s voice has calmed me to an extent. I feel like my life is twisting and turning, and I can’t quite grasp onto the things that are happening. Now I have to give him the news. “Ah, not anytime soon. I have been dragged into some…” I freeze, racking my brain for an excuse. “Family drama…” That’s the best I got.
“Family?” he asks, shocked. “Thought you didn’t have any.”
“Oh, I don’t, not really. This is not my birth family. One of my foster homes.” I know he wants to ask more questions, so I quickly cut him off. “I’m going to try to come home for a visit soon, but can you do me a favor?” I chew on my lip nervously. He doesn’t answer, but that’s nothing new with Rich. “Can you empty my room and sell everything?”
“What!” he yells. “What do you mean?”
I sigh, rolling to my belly. I loved living with Rich and helping him out with his girls, but I know that this is the right thing to do. I can’t be living there to help pay the rent, and I can’t go back to empty my room anytime soon. I know he will want someone in there soon to help pay the mortgage and take care of the girls. “I’m living here now. I can’t explain much, but can you please do this for me? Let the girls choose whatever they want. I know Angela wanted my iPad. She can have that. Sell the rest and donate the money to…” I pause, thinking over my next words. “Survivors of sexual abuse.”
Rich sighs. “All right, little lady. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Rich!” I spend the next five minutes going back and forth with him, catching up on the drama. He finally lets me go, and I hang up, rubbing my warm ear.
My phone vibrates on the bed beside me again, and I half-think it’s Rich with a change of heart, but it’s a text from Rose.
I can’t believe I’m being made tonight.
I read over her words. When Delila gave me the phone this morning, she said that Rose has one, too, with both our numbers saved into each other’s device. I send her a text back.
What do you mean made?
She texts back instantly. My initiation into Midnight is tonight before we leave. Tell me you’ll be there.
Initiation? They have an actual initiation? When will mine be then? Will they even have one for me?
What time?
Midnight.
My fingers hover over the words. I’ll be there.
I set my alarm for eleven-thirty, kick off my jeans, and remove my bra before diving beneath the covers of my bed. I watch the sun setting through the glass window, warming my skin, before falling into a deep sleep.
The ringing of my alarm blares through the quiet night. I shoot up from the bed, swiping the sleep from my eyes. “Shit.”
“Going somewhere?” Kyrin asks, leaning against the frame where my curtain hangs.
“Holy shit!” I shove my shirt down to cover myself more, but it’s no use. My shirt is too short, and Kyrin is already eyeing me up and down.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Little Bird. I’ve seen better.”
I force myself not to let it bother me so much. I was a stripper. Why the fuck should I care anyway?
I drop down onto the bed, reach for my black jeans and shove my feet through them. “Yes. I’m going to watch Rose’s initiation.”
Kyrin grins. “Really?”
“Yes,” I snap, doing up my button. I rake my fingers through my long hair in an attempt to brush it. “Why?”
He shrugs, nodding his head. “I’ll walk you.”
Shoving my feet into my Chucks, I eye him skeptically. “Why would you do that?”
His tongue sneaks out and runs across his bottom lip. They’re all very good-looking. Annoyingly so. Kyrin and Keaton are the quiet ones; they’re the monsters who sit in the corner and watch everyone kill each other before they come in and feast on people’s battered souls. Killian is the jokester. He’s the one I feel somewhat comfortable with. Mainly because he has nice eyes. They’re smiling eyes. The kind of eyes that he doesn’t have to smile for them to smile, unlike Keaton’s, whose are more serious and intense and fanned with dark eyelashes. Kyrin has jet-black hair and cognac honey eyes. The kind that you don’t trust because he looks a little deranged.
Kingston. Well, King is something else entirely. He has chocolate hair, that’s the perfect length to run your fingers through, tanned skin, and vivid green eyes. There are my color green eyes, and then there are Kingston’s green. They almost look alien-like. His eyelashes are as thick as his hair, and his cheekbones sit high. They’re all gorgeous guys and all athletically built, with King being the biggest. Kingston has the triangle tattoo over his left pec and a vine of roses over the right side of his stomach that slips down beneath his pants, but other than that, I don’t think he has any other tattoos. Keaton is covered in ink from head to toe. They’re all over his neck, head, arms, and even some on his face. Kyrin has a sleeve, but that’s all I’ve seen so far, and Killian, as far as I’ve seen, is clean.
“Why would you want to walk me?” I ask again, standing and shoving my phone into my back pocket.
Kyrin shrugs, glaring at me. “Because.”
I pause for a few seconds, attempting to find the energy to further question him on his answer. “Fine. Will I get an initiation?”
He waves ahead, stepping aside for me to shuffle past him. “No. We don’t do one for The Brothers.”
I ignore how uncomfortable I feel around him and make my way out of their RV, shivering when the cold air hits my arms. I am somewhat relieved that I won’t have to go through whatever it is that Rose is about to do, though.
“Hey!” Killian is about to pass us, but he stops, instantly stealing my attention. His smile falters when his eyes drift over my shoulder, obviously landing on Kyrin.
“Going to bed early for once?” Kyrin asks him skeptically, standing right beside me. I try to draw some heat from Kyrin without actually touching him but fail miserably.
Killian rolls his eyes. Something I would have missed had it not been for the bright garden lights that lead paths toward every RV and trailer, as well as one that goes straight to the big tent at the end. “No.”
Killian shoves past Kyrin. “Wait here.” He disappears into the RV and returns with a hoodie in his arms. “Here.” He shoves the warm garment into my chest. “My cock is shriveling up just watching you shake like that.”
“Ah.” I ignore him. “Thanks.” Without looking, I slip my arms into the hoodie, instantly sighing at the warmth it provides.
Kyrin doesn’t say anything, so I look at him, finding him staring back at me.
“What?” I ask, curling the hood around my neck. It hangs to my mid-thigh, and I couldn’t be more appreciative.
“Nothing,” he grumbles. “Let’s go.”
Killian points to each trailer as we pass, mentioning who is in each one.
“Midnight?” I ask, just as we’re passing a pastel purple RV that looks a smidge smaller than The Brothers’ RV.
“Yeah,” Killian says. “They’re the acrobats and dancers. Maya is a contortionist, too, and Val does the aerial straps. D has been trying to get—”