He continues to circle me, and when the mic comes to his mouth, I know I’m in trouble. “Who wants to see just what this little bird can do?” The crowd erupts, but before I can see, Killian’s next words throw me off. “I know King does.” I fight against my impulse to check to see what King is doing. Killian tilts his head. “Play Marilyn Manson.” Oh no. Killian smirks. “‘Third Day of a Seven Day Binge’” He drops the mic, and I feel his arm wrap around me again as he pulls me into his chest, his lips brushing against my ears. “I don’t even have to pretend to the audience that you’re doing as I tell you, do I?” My brain is a haze as he shoves me onto Kingston’s lap.
Kingston’s hand sprawls out over my lower stomach, his lips now touching my neck. “Strip, Little Bird. Show us what you’ve got,” King whispers, just as he shoves me back to my feet. “Dance like you fuck. Like exactly how you taste.” Does King have this power, too?
My hands go up above my head, my eyelids heavy. I roll my body against Killian, dropping to my knees in front of him. He glares down at me, his hand coming to the back of my hair where he wraps it in his fist. Just as he yanks my neck back, King’s hand comes to my throat from behind, and he’s pulling me backward until my head is in his lap, and I’m looking up at him from a bent, and very fucking uncomfortable position. “Don’t push me, Little Bird.”
His words spark a fire inside of me. Something I didn’t know I had, or maybe something that someone has never had the power to ignite before.
I stand back to my feet, just as “Coming Undone” by Korn mixes in. I slowly unzip the front of my crop top, flinging it at King as I turn back to face him. The chorus starts, and I drop down, with Killian behind me, flinging my hair and twisting my body around, grinding my ass into Kingston’s lap. I feel him against my ass, and it only intensifies the power I think I have. Killian grabs my hand and shoves me into his chest, turning me around to face the audience—not that I can notice anything right now—as he bends me over, his hands on my hips. Just as I’m about to continue dancing, Killian’s gone and Kingston is in front of me with Kyrin right beside him. Before I can understand what’s going on, “Toxicity” by System of a Down has started playing and a cage is being dropped around us. This one is square. Locked. Nowhere to run. What the fuck do they do for the final act?
“This show is rated R …”
I look around at all three of them, wondering where the fuck Keaton is. Of course, only I would wonder where Keaton is, not why the hell I’m being locked in a cage with three possible undiagnosed psychopaths.
Killian brings the mic to his mouth. “Now, I don’t know if you know this, but Little Bird is new. This is the first time she’ll be participating in the final act. If you’ve been to one of our shows before, you know what is about to happen.” He pauses, and it’s right then that I realize I’m probably going to get fucked by all of them—bar Keaton.
Right now.
In this cage.
In front of an audience. I don’t know why I assume that right away. Maybe it’s the setting, or maybe it’s because I’m locked in a damn cage with all of them. And they look hungry. Starving.
The crowd is roaring with praise. Oh good. They totally support this.
I try not to look panicked. I don’t want to give them any more power than they already have, and something tells me that if they knew they had my fear, they’d only use it as a snack.
I don’t want to look anywhere, so I straighten my shoulders, close my eyes, and take my mind back to the place where it always goes when I need to be surrounded by something dark. To remind myself why I’m so lucky to be bathing in this light. The Shadow.
Killian’s voice comes through my ear. “Do you want this? Or are we all wrong to think you can handle it?”
I lick my lips, bringing my hand to the back of his neck. Right now, I still have the power. I can feel it. He hasn’t told me what to do; he’s merely asked me a question. I can do this, but only if it’s on my terms. I yank his head into my space, whispering into his hair, “Play ‘Breathe’ by Mako, and don’t fucking use your juju on me. I’ll do whatever the fuck I’m supposed to do without it.”
He pauses, and then leans back, bringing the mic to his mouth, repeating my song choice. It starts, and I begin slowly dancing around them, focusing on Killian. I force his face to mine. When I feel his lips close, he pushes me backward until I’m falling onto a lap. The electricity that explodes around me is a dead giveaway that it’s King’s lap I’m on.
I moan softly, not wanting to be here right now. Killian is easy because there’s no big bang. No feelings. No… King.
He doesn’t touch me, so I turn in his lap, straddling him. Running my fingers through my hair, I roll my body over him, reaching behind his head to untie the bandana that’s covering his mouth. What’s with the bandanas? His eyes drift to the crowd slightly before coming back to mine.
King is still not touching me, so I turn in his lap, ready to go to Kyrin, when he grips onto the back of my shorts and tugs me back down.
Kyrin, who has stayed in the background throughout the whole thing, hooks his finger around the belt loop of my shorts and yanks me into him. He leans down and whispers into my ear, “Is that all you’ve got? Gotta say, I’m pretty disappointed.”
My stomach sinks. I hate disappointing people, and I’m well aware that this feeling probably stems from feeling as though I’ve always failed my parents.
Angry and annoyed, I turn in his grasp, reach up on my tippy toes, and bring my mouth to his. I stare right through him. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“Pretty sure we know everything about you.”
“Carousel” by Melanie Martinez stars playing loudly, igniting my reckless soul.
Fine.
Another arm grips around my waist, and I turn in King’s grasp. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s almost like there’s a battle happening on the floor, and I don’t know if it has anything to do with me or not.
Kingston squeezes me into his chest. I grind my ass against his crotch, dropping to the floor. When Kyrin goes to step backward, I reach for the waistband of his pants and yank him forward. Kyrin is strong, but he doesn’t fight me, stepping so close that my face is directly in front of his crotch.
To the beat of the song, I wave my torso around as my fingers inch up to his zipper. I reach for it, just as King yanks my head back by my long hair. I’m staring up at him upside down when his jaw clenches.
“What?” I smirk. “I thought this was Midnight Mayhem?” I’m bluffing. I had no idea prior to tonight what the fuck this group did.
King bares his teeth, hissing, before shoving my face away from him and into Kyrin’s crotch.
Asshole.
I yank Kyrin’s pants down and his cock springs free. I don’t have any want or need, just anger. I grip his long, thick shaft in my hand and tug on it lightly. I lick my lips, and Kyrin steps backward, his face coming to mine. “You really want to suck my dick, Little Bird?”
I smile up at him sweetly. “Yes.” I have no idea.
He shoves his thumb into my mouth, pressing it down onto my tongue. “My cock is worth dying over?”