In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem #1)(50)

Spinning around, I see King is back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his finger tracing his upper lip. Now I can’t move my eyes from him.

He leans up from his sitting position and hooks his hand in mine, tugging me back onto his lap before he carries on the conversation he was having with Keaton.

Being this close to him is both calming and frightening. It’s a concoction that should never be stirred, let alone felt.

His hand comes to my belly, and his fingers spread out, securing me to his lap. Bored and a little drunk, I turn to the side until I’m facing the other person beside him. I was expecting Killian, but instead, I get Delila.

“Delila.” I nod my head with a small smile.

Her face remains passive, her smirk wide. “Little Bird, you look rather comfortable on the King’s lap.”

I snort, and then I want to kick myself because I freaking snorted, and then I’m mad that I thought of the word “freaking.” I’m a cheap drunk. “I have an idea,” I mumble, watching her. It’s true, I do, but I only got this idea about two seconds before I found myself on King’s lap.

She waves her hands, bringing her glass to her mouth. “Well, go on.”

I wriggle. “Okay.”

A hand tightens around my hip, sending a shockwave through my muscles and over my limbs. Just when I’m about to open my mouth, I feel King’s lips on my earlobe. “Move like that again and I’ll fuck you right here and right now, and Dove, it’s nothing that these people haven’t witnessed or done before, so don’t fucking test me when it comes to your ass on my cock.” Before I can answer him, he’s already leaning back in his chair and continuing his conversation with Keaton.

My cheeks flush as I look back to Delila, who’s laughing behind her drink.

“Interesting,” she mutters, her eyes flicking toward King briefly, before going over my shoulder. “Before you tell me what your idea is.” She waves her hand ahead of her, and I spin around to see what she’s gesturing to.

Six men have entered from—I don’t know where—because everything is sort of blurry, but I also notice that there are seven girls with them. They’re all blonde and older. They have to be in their thirties. The men are interesting. One has long hair and a long beard, and one has a shaved scalp and a long beard. If I had to say which one is attractive, I’d go with the long hair and long beard. They’re all intriguing in different ways, not lucidly good-looking like The Brothers.

“That is The Six and The Seven.” Delila’s voice carries through as they all pull out seats and get comfortable. “They’re one of the acts, but in short, they’re the Six Demons of Hell and the girls are the Seven Angels of God.”

I pull my eyes away from the new crew and train them on Delila. “How come I haven’t seen them before?”

Delila chuckles, lighting her smoke and leaning back in her chair. “Because one, you haven’t been here long and two, they don’t make themselves known outside of acts. They’ve been here a long time, and people still travel and pay from all over the place to see their act.”

“Which is?” I ask, intrigued. I find myself looking back at the better looking one. “Just out of curiosity.”

Delila flicks the end of her smoke out, and I watch as the ash falls to the ground. “Sex, mainly. What happens when demons meet angels?” Delila’s eyes flick between King and me. “What happens when innocence collides with corruption?”

I lick my lips. “So they all have sex. In front of everyone?”

Delila must find me amusing when I’m drunk because she’s laughing again. “Yes, Little Bird. Each act is different. Think of it as live porn, I guess.”

“Isn’t that what the last scene is?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Delila’s eyes narrow. “No. That is for The Brothers, and it can be whatever they want. Though I should warn you, everyone here has been with everyone here.” Her eyes flick to Kingston before she chuckles again. “Well, almost everyone.”

My shoulders slouch, my hand running over my belly.

“So anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?” she asks. “Before I leave?”

I think about how I can possibly give her a proposition of me having my own show—with a twist of something else to offer this strange crew—when she just told me that they have a group of good-looking people who give the crowd live freaking devil-angel porn. I just said “freaking” again.

I think I need water.

“I’ll talk about it with you tomorrow.”

She throws down her smoke and shrugs. “Or maybe I’ll be too busy. Goodnight, Little Bird. Don’t hurt yourself tonight.” She walks away, carrying the echo of her cackles behind her tight ass.

King’s fingers dig into my hips before I can so much as think of anything else, and he turns me, so I’m straddling his lap. He looks up at me, his eyes searching mine. “Like what you see?”

“Somewhat.” I’m meaning him, but I don’t think he’s meaning him, and again, I could really do with a glass or ten of water.

His eyes narrow, and I instantly know that I’ve done something wrong.

He stands off the chair and is flipping me upside down over his shoulder. My hand flies to my mouth to stop a scream from escaping. Now I’m staring right at the destroyed Dolce & Gabbana jeans that are strapped nicely around his tight ass. The little solar lights that lead the way are slowly disappearing with every step he takes.