In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem #1)(56)

He comes closer, and my body is pulsing, reacting to whatever is going on outside without seeing it. I reach up, curving the hoodie around my fingers, and flicking it off his face.

He hisses, baring his teeth like a wild animal. His eyes are feral, but his hand comes between my thighs. “Mine,” he growls, his teeth scraping against my collarbone. The song is still thudding in the background as his knee separates my legs and his lips are on mine. My chest is humming, everything throbbing with need. It’s a cruel kind of torture. My eyes open, seeking him out, but the room is empty again with nothing but the red light.

The ties around my wrists are loosened, and I reach up, ripping the earbuds out of my ears. The curtains are already closed, and I don’t care enough to figure out what is going on around me because tears are clouding my vision. I push away from all of them and run toward our RV, bypassing all of the people who are spilling out from the show.

Tearing open the door, I head straight for my room and drop down onto my bed. My head pounds from whatever it was that just happened.

“Little Bird,” Killian says from the threshold of my room minutes later. Did he chase me? Why couldn’t it be King who chases me? Why is it always Killian?

“Go away, Killian. What the hell was that?”

He pauses, searching my eyes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. About us. But whatever you think of during an episode is on you—not me. I don’t force you to see what you see. I just shuffle things to the surface.”

I flop onto my back, counting the dots on the roof above. “Why am I here?”

There’s shuffling that moves around the room, and when I turn my head to the side to see why he hasn’t answered me, my eyes connect to King’s.

“What’d you see?” he whispers, his eyes falling down my body.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I turn onto my side, ignoring him.

My bed dips, and I have to fight the urge to see what he’s doing.

“Dove.”

“Go away, King.”

“I’m not fuckin’ going anywhere!” His tone is like acid, threatening to spill over the edges and burn everyone in its path. He’s angry, obviously, only I’m not sure why.

I spin around, annoyed with him being back in my space after what he did last night. And what I imagined tonight. I refuse to believe Killian about him not having anything to do with what I saw. It was too vivid. Too familiar. Too—King. “Why are you so confusing? Why didn’t you just kill me in that fucking cell instead of dragging me through all of this?”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, you don’t think I wanted to?”

That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, and my flinch was a dead giveaway for that. “What do you mean?”

His eyes search mine, and for a second, nothing else exists outside of us. Everything melts away into a smudged painting, a swirl of irrelevant colors surrounding us. “You don’t think I wanted to kill you?”

“You’re not making sense.” I exhale, tired. Drained from the push and pull that’s been going on between us both. Tired from him drawing the life directly from my soul.

I turn to face the wall, when his voice interrupts me. “Dove.”

“What, King?” I ask, flipping to face him. “I’m trying to understand why people keep telling me that you’re a certain way around me, but when you’re around me, you’re confusing, moody, and a pain in my ass.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, and then slowly, I watch as the corner of his mouth slips into a smirk.

“Did you just smile?”

His face falls. “No.”

I sigh—loudly—and turn onto my back. “I’m tired of fighting.”

“Then tell me your name isn’t Dove Hendry.”

“Why would I do that?”

“So I can stop fighting the feeling of wanting to bury my cock so deep inside your pussy, you’ll be screaming my name into the night. Tell me your name isn’t Dove Hendry.”

I lick my lips, my eyes searching his. “Why does it matter if I am Dove? We don’t know each other.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. There’s something disconcertingly dark about two people who have volatile chemistry, sitting in a dark room.

“God, King!” My tone levels louder. “What the fuck is going on?”

In a flash, I’m being pressed into the mattress, and his body is on top of mine. Everything south is pulsing with need. I slowly spread my legs wide, allowing him to slip between.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” His voice is rough, but his lips are soft, plush against mine. I hold my breath, overwhelmed with his proximity, but addicted to his touch. I like him like this. I need him like this. His danger has always drawn me in. There’s power that comes with being touched and caressed by a dangerous man.

“Try me,” I finally whisper, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

He groans, before dropping down, his lips crashing on mine. I hook my arm around his neck, opening my mouth wider. Needing to be closer to him, wanting his kiss.

He tears off my shirt and stands back, kicking off his shoes. “If you don’t want this, you have three seconds to tell me because I’m about to give even less of a fuck.”

Slowly, I bring my hand to my jeans button and flick it off.