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I pause as I come up to the RV, finding King and Killian talking with a few guys I’ve never seen before. They mustn’t be in the show either, or I’m sure I would have noticed them.
Killian hands them a few tickets, before turning his eyes to me. “Where’d you fly off to, Little Bird?”
I scan the new guys with careful eyes. One is absolutely inked, with a pretty enough face to feature on every cover of GQ magazine, one is dark and broody, and reminds me way too much of a certain male I’ve come to know, and the other one I feel uncomfortable even looking at because he’s that scary—but I can’t look away because he’s fucking hot.
Killian catches me staring. “Little Bird.” He gestures to the guys. “Meet Nate, Bishop, and Brantley. A few of my oldest friends. They’re coming to the show tonight.”
King puts a smoke in his mouth and dismisses me. “You can leave now.”
My mouth slams closed as I give the boys a wave. “Nice to meet you.”
Quickly turning back to the RV, I pick up my steps, desperate for a shower. If only the water could wash away the dirty look King just gave me.
The crowd is quiet. I can hear Delila’s voice expand through the speakers, summoning everyone’s attention. If only I could see. I yank on my arms and legs, but I’m tied spread eagle while standing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Midnight Mayhem.” Welcome to Midnight Mayhem? People should run. “This is neither a circus nor a carnival. This is what happens when the clock strikes twelve and all of the monsters you thought never existed expose themselves.”
Suddenly, there’s a shocked inhale from the audience, and the blindfold, that’s covering my eyes, has light fighting through. I tug on my hands again.
“Sit back, relax, and keep your mind closed. Because if you open it, you don’t know what will creep in.” She ain’t lying.
I hear the loud rumble of a bike. Multiple bikes. I don’t have to hear them to know they’re here. I can feel them, their presence and their power. The crowd cheers, only enticing my fear. I clench my fingers around the rope that’s tied around my wrist, using it as a way to keep myself together. The bikes grow louder and louder until I’m squeezing my eyes shut. Some strangeness washes over me from their deep rumble, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. They’re close now, so close. I can no longer hear the crowd or the heavy metal music. An engine is revved, and then another, and another and another, until I hear them zip forward into what sounds like circles around me. I wonder in the back of my head if they’re on the Harley Davidsons I saw earlier. They were the smaller kind, obviously not road bikes but not pit bikes either. Dust slaps my legs as they continue to go in circles around and around, until suddenly, they stop. The bikes idle in the background, and I feel the palm of who I know is King brush my upper thigh.
“This is Little Bird’s first show,” he calls out through the mic.
I swallow.
His hand moves up past my thigh and over my exposed belly. Delila had me change into black leather shorts and a short leather crop top. My hair is dead straight, and I have enough makeup on my face to make a drag queen envious.
The blindfold is gone, and I’m looking straight toward a spotlight that’s beaming on me. I notice I’m hanging on a wooden board with my arms and feet spread. Before I can think of what it is that I’m doing here, something whips past my belly, sticking to the wall that I’m in front of.
What. The. Fuck.
Another on my other side. It’s then that I notice the black handle of knives.
I yank and pull on the cuffs when the crowd goes silent. My heart beats in my chest.
Another one that lands right near my cheek. I can feel the cool metal of the blade press against it. Fear ripples through my bones, and just when I think I’m going to pass out, Killian is beside me, his hands traveling up my leg. Only his face is completely camouflaged by distorted clown makeup. Blood drips around his eyes, his pupils covered by white wolf contacts. He bares his teeth, and my eyes catch the fangs extended on either side.
“Jesus Christ.” He’s terrifying.
“Enjoy it.” He walks around me, and I can feel his lips smirk against my earlobe. “Make those panties wet.”
My eyes close, and my breathing hardens, just as another knife is flying between my legs, pressing against my pussy.
Who the hell is throwing the knives? My thighs clench.
I sit there for another five minutes as four more knives are thrown, and the crowd erupts into cheers.
