I blink a few times to pull myself out of the daze I was in. “Wait, you swapped that!” I point to the card.
King flings the card into the middle of the table. “I didn’t, and I don’t cheat.”
“That’s fucked up.” Killian shakes his head in disbelief. He stands from the table, pulling out his phone. He snaps a random photo of us all around the table. “That is going down in history.”
I shake myself off and try it on the other two. Keaton was an epic fail. I don’t even know why I tried. I can’t pull anything out of him, and to be honest, I wasn’t even trying, because I don’t know how I did it to begin with, and I was too distracted by whatever it was that just happened.
Same with Kyrin. Fail. Fail. Fail. All but goddamn Kingston Axton. Why couldn’t he be my fail? Why did he have to hold my ace of spades?
“All right! We don’t have to count to know that King won,” Killian announces, tossing his cards into the middle and downing the rest of his drink.
“Surprise, surprise.” Keaton chuckles, kicking King from beneath the table.
“What will it be, your majesty? Come on. Hand it to us!” Killian teases, tossing potato chips into his mouth.
Kingston smirks, looking around the table.
I freeze when his eyes land on me, and instead of going to Killian, they stay on me.
Oh no.
Oh shit.
I shake my head. “I’m new. You can’t include me in this.”
His eyebrows raise. “Oh, but I can.” He grins, his index finger working his upper lip.
“Yo!” Justice calls out from the driver’s seat, saving me from whatever King was about to say. Thank God. “We’re here!” I look down at the time that’s on the dashboard: 7:37.
Crap, that time went fast.
I stand from the table, taking my glass to the sink as the rest of them disappear left, right, and center to do the things they probably do, which I know nothing about.
I spin around to find King still in his chair. I’m partially annoyed because I have to pretty much brush past him to get to my room. I could sit up with Justice a bit longer, but I think our chitchat has successfully died out.
I begin heading for my room while holding my breath. When I reach King, his hand finds my inner thigh, stopping my movement—and my fucking heart.
I pause, my breathing ragged. As I look down at him, he smirks up at me. His fingers flex around my thigh and I have to internally talk myself down from combusting. “I’ll be cashing in on that dare later tonight, Little Bird.”
He releases me, and I manage to successfully make my way to my bed without falling flat on my face.
My phone vibrates just as I catch my breath in my pillow; I reach for it, opening the text.
I’m going to kill Val before tonight’s over.
Give me girl drama over this any day. I remember being in high school and freaking out over the smallest bit of drama. Now, up against this, it feels miniscule. Even the fact that before I had been taken into Midnight Mayhem, I was starving, broke, and paying my way in life via dancing on a pole every night seems so diminutive, considering my now drama.
Killian interrupts my reply by pulling the curtain open. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I swallow, keeping my eyes locked on the ceiling and placing my phone to my side.
Killian drops down onto my bed, kicking off his shoes and climbing up farther. I turn my head to face him. He’s leaning back on one elbow, his smirk hiding behind his hoodie slightly. “Wanna know what’s weird?” His blue eyes dance in mischief. He pushes the ball of his tongue ring out, and I watch as he drags it across his bottom lip.
“What?” I ask, momentarily hypnotized by his tongue.
He pops it back into his mouth, his hand coming to my chin to tilt my face up to his. “You’re fair game right now, so I wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”
I yank myself out of his grip. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Anyway.” His charm is back in full effect. “The funny thing.”
I roll my eyes, tucking my hand under my head to hear what he has to say.
“We’ve been playing that game since we were two. That’s twenty-two years of sixers, and never in those twenty-two years has anyone ever been able to call on King.”
I blink a couple of times.
A few inhales of breath later.
“And?” I ask, wanting more. Needing more.
“And?” Killian parrots, flashing his straight teeth from behind a smile. “And that’s fucking weird.” He narrows his eyes, searching mine. “You’re an alien. From Area 51.”
I push off the bed, picking up my phone and quickly typing out the text I was supposed to send Rose before Killian walked his smug ass into my Area 51.
Can we swap?
“What is your deal, anyway, Little Bird?” Killian asks, slowly coming off the bed and leaning his elbows onto his knees. “Why are you here?”
I’m about to say you fucking stole me when the curtain that separates me and the rest of the RV is ripped open.
“Get out.” Kingston hikes his thumb over his shoulder, glaring at Killian.
I shoot up from my position, as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong.
Killian doesn’t move; he remains silent, and it’s not until I look at him that I find his smirk fixed on Kingston.
“Really?” Killian laughs, shuffling off my bed and leaning into Kingston to whisper into his ear. I don’t even want to know what they’re talking about. I’m too busy stressing about what King might have me do for my dare. Maybe I should counter it with a game of poker and see if he still wins.
Killian leaves, and the RV comes to a stop. The silence that fills the distance between King and me is loud enough to wake the dead.
“So, this dare…” I joke, squeezing the blanket under my fist.
“Do I need to lay out some rules? I mean, some pretty fucking obvious ones?” he counters, throwing me off course.
“What do you mean?” My cheeks heat. I don’t know why I assumed that he would be back here specifically for his dare.
He comes closer, leaning down onto the bed with his fists, caging me between two large arms. His proximity reminds me of a song I danced to one time. “Breathe” by Mako. “The power of distraction when you’re in a vulnerable position could be the immediate decider between life or death, Little Bird.” I close my eyes, mainly to shut out the voice that haunts me even when my eyes are open.
“You’re not to fuck, kiss, or so much as touch any of The Brothers. Do I need to put that in writing for you to get that through your pretty little head?” His voice is low, his breath warm against my lips. Slowly, I open my eyes and notice he’s right there. Face-to-face. Nose-to-nose. He searches my eyes and then drops to my mouth. “Answer me, Dove.”
“No, you don’t need to put that in writing. I won’t go near any of you.”
“You seem so sure,” Kingston argues, his head tilting as if he’s studying every inch of me, but he’s not. He’s merely bored and playing God, making sure his pawns are moving across the board sufficiently. I know his type. The broody alpha male who likes his soldiers in a line, ready for battle. I’ve just got to figure out whether I’m one of his soldiers or an enemy.