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“Should we go in?” Maya whispered, her frantic movements unwilling to still.
I grinned, nudging her. “Knew you were good for something.” I stepped forward just as a scream rang out.
I tug on my hair, the memory too raw to touch, like an open wound that threatened to slice back open if I got too close to it.
Maya is standing by the table, pacing back and forth. “Shit.” She pulls out a joint from behind her ear and puts it in her mouth. “This isn’t good.”
After Maya left, I tossed and turned for the better part of the night, which is exactly why I’m not switched on this morning. We have one more show tonight in Brisbane before we’re heading back to the land of the dead. Literally what it should be called.
I haven’t seen Sass since the show last night either, which is my bad, I left pretty quickly after. My knee jiggles as King relays the plans of us heading back to Kiznitch. Luce is beside King, the leader of the Six Demons. His real name is Jessie, but we still call him Luce.
“Why would she cut the tour short, though? Why not wait until we’ve done Australia? Since we go from here to Sydney, it seems a little extreme to leave right now and not come and do what we came here to do, and then there’s the money and how much that would set us back.” Lucifer hits all of the points that I knew people would hit.
I snort. “I think money is void when it comes to this issue.”
Luce sighs. “True, but I’m just saying from a business perspective, it still doesn’t make sense.” He stares at me quizzically. “And your father will have a lot to say about that, since he’s the treasurer of Kiznitch.” Dad is the treasurer, which means that he overlooks all of Midnight Mayhem’s expenditures. His knowledge and power of numbers is irrefutable—just like my pops and the ones before him.
I clear my throat, leaning back in my chair. Money has never been something that I gave a fuck about, in fact, I bathed in fucking liquid gold growing up, but he’s right. The reason why Kiznitch is wealthy and all of the Fathers and founding families never struggle is because we’re smart with our money. This isn’t smart, regardless of how much we have.
“You’re right,” I agree with Luce.
“Did he just say that?” Keaton taps my leg with his, where he is on the other side of me.
I flip him off without looking at him.
King’s attention wavers when the girls walk through, or rather, Perse walks through.
I roll my eyes. “Pussy whipped motherfucker.”
“Keep talking that shit, Kill, only a matter of time…” King teases.
“Matter of time for what?” Luce laughs, looking between King and I. “Oh no way, not Kill…” He glares at me just as Sass steps through the door, laughing with Kenan. I swear to fuck everything slows as her hair blows around her face when she laughs. She is fucking crippling. The beauty of Saskia was placed on this earth specifically from God to taunt me for all my wrongdoings. Only Saskia isn’t from heaven.
I can’t even fight the pull when I find her watching me. As if our allurement feeds one another. No, Saskia isn’t sent from God. That kind of beauty is crafted from evil.
“Fuck off,” I grunt, tilting my head back to focus on the ceiling. Anywhere but where she is.
“Thank fuck,” Luce answers, seeming to believe me, just as he finds Sass. “That brunette is on some next level shit. Where’d they pick her up from, fucking Victoria’s Secret?”
I don’t flinch.
King starts bursting out laughing and I have to fight all that is inside of me not to elbow him in the face. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Music starts playing, and it’s not until I’ve counted to what feels like one-hundred and calmed my wayward temper that I finally bring my head back down.
Sass and Kenan run through their duet before they work on their group dance. The duet is hot as fuck, even with the cheesy music, but everything Sass does is dripped in sex, power, and utter fucking rebellion.
Fuck.
I have no problem performing in front of hundreds of people. Every week when we’re on tour. But with The Brothers sitting in front of me, and Lucifer from the Demons all watching us, suddenly it’s too much. Too heavy. Too tense.
“Throw a Fit” starts playing again. We stick to the same songs for the same city, sometimes for two cities, before changing them. I’m wearing a sports bra and ripped boyfriend jeans, with the waistband of my Calvins showing around my hips. I work through the movements, laughing when Kenan rips off his shirt and mirrors my movements in the chorus. The song cuts out and Perse swipes the sweat from her forehead.
