onto the bed with his fists, caging me between two large arms. His proximity reminds me of a song I danced to one time. “Breathe” by Mako. “The power of distraction when you’re in a vulnerable position could be the immediate decider between life or death, Little Bird.” I close my eyes, mainly to shut out the voice that haunts me even when my eyes are open.
“You’re not to fuck, kiss, or so much as touch any of The Brothers. Do I need to put that in writing for you to get that through your pretty little head?” His voice is low, his breath warm against my lips. Slowly, I open my eyes and notice he’s right there. Face-to-face. Nose-to-nose. He searches my eyes and then drops to my mouth. “Answer me, Dove.”
“No, you don’t need to put that in writing. I won’t go near any of you.”
“You seem so sure,” Kingston argues, his head tilting as if he’s studying every inch of me, but he’s not. He’s merely bored and playing God, making sure his pawns are moving across the board sufficiently. I know his type. The broody alpha male who likes his soldiers in a line, ready for battle. I’ve just got to figure out whether I’m one of his soldiers or an enemy.
I clear my throat, my lips curling between my teeth. “I am. Somewhat.”
“What makes you second-guess that?” I need him to back up from me.
I want to say you! You fucking make me second-guess that, but instead, I shake my head.
He pushes back, squaring his shoulders. “We’ll see about that.” He leaves, and I watch as he disappears into the darkness of the RV. The only light illuminating the area is the bulb on the roof.
Justice stretches his arms above his head, yawning. He catches me staring and cuts his yawn short. “Little Bird, you all right?” He has an accent, and I have no idea what it is. Scottish, maybe? It seems almost gypsy-like. Maybe it’s just some weird hybrid accent from traveling so much.
“Yeah.” I stand from my bed, grabbing my phone and shoving it into my back pocket. I make my way down the RV. “What usually happens from here?”
He rolls his shoulders. “Well, we drink while the construction crew sets up.”
“The construction crew?”
“Yep!” He moves into the kitchen and takes a bottle of water out of the fridge. “We don’t do any of the labor. We all have to…” He pauses, takes a sip, and momentarily thinks over what he’s about to say next. “Reserve our energy for the show.” He disappears behind me without saying goodbye. What even is this show? Everyone has made it clear that it’s not a circus because they don’t have animals, but I can’t call it a carnival either because they don’t have rides. What is Midnight Mayhem? Aside from the midnight folklore myth that Killian shared with me?
After throwing on warmer clothes, tight skinny jeans, Uggs, and an army green utility jacket with warm fur—fake, I hope—around the collar, I make my way outside to find Rose. The RVs are lined up beside each other, with just enough space to give some privacy, but ours is more to the back, hidden behind a large honey locust tree. Its branches float over the RV, curving around it as a form of shade. There are a few guys who are setting up the small solar lights, lining each RV’s walkway, and I find myself watching them watch me. I offer a small smile, but they all quickly look away, as if they’ve been caught doing something that is forbidden.
“Hey!” I call out to a young girl who is bending over to shove a light into the grass near ours. She stands and turns toward me slowly, her eyes lighting up briefly. “Do you know where I can find Midnight’s RV?”
The girl tilts her head, eyes searching mine. Her mouth opens, but just as she’s about to say something, another man is behind her, his hand securely placed on her arm.
His eyes remain on mine as he says, “Ariana, go and help with the tent.” His lip is curled, his face harsh, but his words are soft, the tension reduced for the small girl.
She gazes up at me pleadingly, and then her head falls between her shoulders, and she dashes off down the already lit pathway.
I bring my attention back to the man. “Well, do you know where I can find them?”