Ky’s eyes opened and instantly met mine. For a while, he just stared. Then crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes and a whisper of a smirk pulled on his mouth. “Just hungover as fuck, sweet cheeks. Don’t normally pull my ass outta bed until at least midday.”
“Midday?” I responded in shock. “Then you miss the best part of the day. Sunrise is the Lord’s most perfect creation, my favorite time of day. One should always wake each morning and listen to the birds.”
A small laugh slipped through Ky’s lips, and he said, “That so?”
“Yes,” I answered in all seriousness.
“Got it. Make an effort to watch the sunrise and listen to the fuckin’ birds,” he replied, then took a white stick from his pocket and lit it with a small mechanism that offered fire. Ky sucked the white stick, and I watched smoke pour from his nostrils. He then cocked his head my way.
“Let’s go.”
Picking up my feet and following him, I asked, “Where are we to go?”
“We’re going to teach you shit,” he called over his shoulder, and we ended up at the front of the yard, standing before a long row of the motorcycles the men all rode. Mae had explained what they were one time I was watching from the bedroom window. To me, they looked dangerous.
Ky stopped at a large bike, all silver and black. Retrieving a helmet, he pushed it into my hands. I stared at it blankly.
Ky insisted, “Take it. Put it on. We’re gonna ride.”
“Ride?” I said, fear coursing through my body.
“Yeah, ride,” Ky replied, and I began to shake my head. He wanted me to go on that bike. No. It was dangerous. How could I sit on it and maintain my modesty? Would I have to touch him?
“Lilah—”
“Can I request that we do not use this machine, Ky?” I asked, cutting him off.
A shocked yet humored expression flashed across Ky’s face and he raised his blond eyebrow. “Can you request it?”
I nodded apprehensively, trying to judge if this might anger him. But after a second of staring, Ky suddenly began laughing loudly and placed the helmet on the back of the bike. He looked at my face again and that seemed to make him laugh even harder. “Fuckin’ request,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Why are you laughing at me?” I asked in dismay.
Ky moved around the bike to stand before me and said, “First fuckin’ lesson, sweet cheeks. Out here in the ‘evil world’”, he mocked, “we don’t wanna do something, ride on something, then we fuckin’ just say so.”
Frowning, I said, “I did say so.”
“Nah, bitch, you opened those fuckin’ fat lips and spoke to me like the queen of England. From now on, you just say, ‘I’m not fuckin’ riding that, Ky.’ Or ‘I’m not fuckin’ doing that, Ky.’” He jerked his chin and took another drag of his white stick. “Got it?”
Nodding, I lifted my hands and ran my fingers over my lips. Ky’s eyes narrowed as he watched me.
“Fat lips?” I asked in confusion. “I have fat lips?”
Blinding me with a dazzling white smile, Ky licked along his lips and edged closer, too close for comfort. The proximity of his large, muscular body was unnerving, and his smoky breath drifted over my cheeks.
Taking my chin in his grip, his thumb pulled down my bottom lip, and he leaned in to say, “Big fat, pink lips. Most perfect fuckin’ lips I’ve ever seen.” His voice was raspy and lower than normal. “Yeah, Li, you got true cock-sucking fat lips.”
My heart raced and, suddenly feeling heady, I released a shuddering exhale. His talk was crude, but I had come to realize it was just his way.
Time stood still as Ky and I hung there motionless, both breathing deeply. The air seemed to crackle all around us and the pressure of it pressed down on my chest. Suddenly, Ky stepped back and cleared his throat, taking one last inhale of his white stick, then dropped it to the ground, the end still burning orange ash.
The pressure on my chest immediately eased as Ky backed away.
“You’re gonna make me take the truck, ain’t you? Gonna keep me caged in?”
Ky didn’t give me time to respond, but instead fished keys from a pocket and walked toward a large black machine with huge silver bars on the front and double wheels at the rear.
A clicking noise sounded and Ky opened a door. “Get in,” he ordered, but I did not move. “Lilah, get in the fuckin’ truck,” he ordered.
I hesitantly stepped forward, peering through the open high door. Prophet David and the elders had an automobile, which they would use occasionally, but none of the rest of The Order had ever used one, especially us Cursed. We were segregated, refused such opportunities.