Taming The Ringmaster Read online

  “So, we aren’t leaving?” I ask around a mouthful of breakfast, which Rex had placed in front of me a few moments earlier.

  We’re spread out around benches in the middle of the camp while the stagehands rush around us, already busy for the next show, even though the sun has barely risen.

  “No,” Alcide answers, his eyes darting around. His voice seems distracted. And he has yet to look at Blain since their argument yesterday. “Not yet, I thought we could explore the city,” he replies calmly, and the others nod, obviously wondering why we would leave when we had just arrived the day before.

  I sit back, trying to catch Alcide’s eyes, and he finally looks over at me, pressing a finger to his lips. “I thought we would stay a few days, check some things out.” He puts on an air of fake excitement, but his eyes are warning me and begging me to trust him at the same time. So I nod and go back to eating, trusting our ringmaster to keep us safe. He knows what he’s doing, so if he says we are staying despite the warning, there is a reason. I’ll just have to make sure to get him alone to find out what it is.

  The rest of breakfast passes in a blur as the half asleep men stuff their faces and finally wake up. Jessie, fully awake now, seems excited about the prospect of exploring the city and orders us all to go get ready before bouncing away.

  Blain mutters something under his breath as we all stand and stretch, knowing if we don’t get ready to head out, Jesse will only keep coming back to pester us. I wait until Alcide stands and when he walks away, I follow him.

  He turns the corner of the tent next to us and when I pass it, I don’t spot him. I frown hard before a hand wraps around my mouth and pulls me back into a hard chest. I’m yanked into the dark tent, the flap closing behind us and enclosing us in total darkness. I start to struggle, my powers rising instantly, but when his smell hits me, I relax.

  “It’s me, cariño,” he says anyway, reassuring me, his voice soft and velvety as he whispers into my ear. “There are eyes and ears everywhere, we need to act normal. If we try and leave now, I fear they will follow us. We will do our planned shows and then we are gone, understood? Until then, act as you normally would, but be wary,” he warns, his voice deadly serious. Worry passes through me even as I’m distracted by his body pressing against mine, his moist breath on my skin, and his lips so close.

  “Okay,” I reply breathlessly, trying to control my reaction to him, but it’s no use. I know he can hear the pounding of my heart, like a trapped animal trying to break free.

  He kisses my neck ever so gently and I freeze, the darkness closing around us and sparking with electricity. I bite my lower lip, fighting the noise that wants to escape and the need to press back into his body, too afraid he’ll pull away. Something about being completely alone, completely in the dark with him, has me nearly panting into his hand, my need rising with my powers like it always does when he’s around.

  I dart my tongue out to moisten my lips, but it catches his hand and he groans into my ear, pressing closer, letting me feel his hardness against my ass.

  “We relax today, look like we are having fun. It’s just another day out for us. Do what you would normally do,” he repeats, sealing it with another gentle kiss before letting go as quickly as he grabbed me.

  I whirl to search the tent, but he’s gone, the flaps on the side moving with his fast exit. My hand moves up slowly, covering the spot of skin he kissed, trying to trap the heat of his lips as I force myself to listen to his warnings. Did he mean that they are watching us, listening to us, even here? One thing is for sure, I need to be careful. This is a twisted game we’re playing with the Masters of the city. Their moves are cloaked in shadows, forcing our hands, surrounding us. I just hope we win.

  I make myself drop my hand and leave the tent, trying not to look over my shoulders. The space between my shoulder blades itches like I’m being watched, but is that me or my imagination after Alcide’s warning?

  I head straight to my tent, trying to act normal and determined to enjoy today. There might be something wrong with this city, but I’m going to enjoy my downtime with my men. Far too often we are on the move or going from one bad situation to another, so even if things are unravelling around us, I will enjoy the moment and worry about that later. Life is—for now—for living. I’ve learned that from my past, and I refuse to let the Masters ruin my present.

  I get dressed as fast as I can, knowing Jesse will already be impatiently waiting. I choose some red and gold harem pants that Rex got for me, and a plain top. It ends just under my breasts, exposing some skin between the high waist of the pants and the shirt. The sleeves are capped with holes in the shoulders and down the back. It’s extremely comfy, and when I twirl, I nod in appreciation.

  I quickly braid my hair, not wanting it down if it’s going to be windy, and add some gold, jangling jewels that Jesse got me for Christmas through the plait. I still have Alcide’s necklace on from last night and I tuck it under the shirt, close to my skin. Grabbing my bag and money, I quickly leave my tent and head back to where we eat. As I expected, Jesse is already there, almost bouncing up and down in front of an annoyed looking Blain.

  Blain’s arms are bulging and on display in his tight black t-shirt, his legs encased in his usual leather trousers. His hair is perfectly slicked back, and his lips are thin and annoyed. He watches Jesse as the smaller man stands in front of him with a pout.

  “Ready?” I interrupt, not wanting Jesse to push Blain over the edge before we even leave camp.

  Blain tips his head to me, his eyes locked on my body as he watches me come closer. Most people would take that look to mean fuck off, but I see the flare of heat in his eyes and the slight relaxing of his muscles. I kiss Jesse on the cheek and quickly move him away from a ready to swing Blain.

  “Why don’t you go grab the others?” I suggest, looking in his excited eyes.

  “Good idea, Firecracker,” he gushes, bending me backwards over his arm and kissing me quickly before pulling me up from the dipped position and racing away.

  I shake my head with a smile, watching him go, before looking back at Blain. I arch my eyebrow and cross my arms, copying his movements and pout.

  “What’s wrong, grumpy pants?” I deepen my voice, mocking him. I love riling him up. We have a love hate relationship, and honestly, I shouldn’t enjoy his anger as much as I do.

  “Harpy,” he warns, his eyes narrowed as he steps closer, pressing his arms into mine.

  “Blainy,” I mimic.

  He drops his arms and I squeal when he picks me up. He turns with me in his arms and presses me into a nearby post. He holds me there as he smirks, his eyes dark and vacillating between anger and desire like they always do when it comes to me.

  “Does someone need a reminder of what happens to naughty girls?” he asks, his voice sharp and deadly like the knives he always carries and can produce. He leans closer, looking me dead in the eye.

  “Maybe,” I tease, my voice already breathless from just being close to him and having all that power and strength aimed my way. He has a sweeter side buried beneath all this angst, but I love this side as well.

  He groans, his eyes dropping to my lips and staying there. “I don’t think Alcide would be too pleased if I fucked you here and now,” he murmurs, his dirty words causing heat to gather low in my stomach.

  “Or maybe he would love it,” I joke, begging him with my eyes to kiss me.

  He feathers his lips across mine, teasing me. “They’re coming back, I can hear them. We better get going.” With that, he pulls away and drops me to my feet.

  What the— “Blainy,” I whine, needy as hell.

  He grins down at me, his eyes sparkling. “Need something, Harpy?”

  I throw my hair over my shoulder, my jewels making a soft tinkling noise as they move. “You,” I state confidently, before smiling and stepping around him when I hear the others.

  He catches my hand and drags me to his side. “Better watch that mouth, Harpy, it might j
ust get you into trouble.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” I reply, before shaking off his hold and smiling at the others as they stop before us.

  “Ready?” Rex inquires, with an excited Jesse at his side and a silent Nixon behind him.

  “Yes, let’s go!” I grin, ready to explore.

  They turn to leave and Blain slaps my ass lightly. “You are going to pay later.”

  Fuck, I hope so. I’ll take Blain any way I can have him. In fact, I have a reoccurring fantasy of being strapped to his board while he fucks me, not that I will ever tell him that. The asshole would never let me live it down, even as he dragged me into the tent and tied me up and fucked out my brains.

  The city is busier than ever. Luckily, no one seems to pay us any mind as we slip into their bustling depths and follow the roads. It goes from fields straight into skyscrapers, shops, roads, and stalls. It’s all so closed in that there’s no privacy. There are so many people, I find them blurring together.

  I’ve gained a lot of confidence since Cinders, but even now I find myself stepping closer to Nixon. Last time I was in a city like this, the breeders captured me. I know they won’t dare with my silent giant at my side, and even if they did, I now have the powers to protect myself, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

  There are so many shops and pubs and even restaurants that we find ourselves just wandering, unsure where to start until a man waves us over to the front of his shop. Exchanging curious glances, we walk over to what appears to be a bakery. Wooden crates stand upside down with bread, cakes, and much more spread over the tops outside the window of the shop. It all smells delicious and I get a waft of warm bread drifting to me from inside. The man is stocky with greying hair, mud brown eyes, and a belly protruding from behind his flour covered white apron.

  “Lady and gentlemen, won’t you try our freshly baked goods? Made here every day by myself and my wife! The pound cake is to die for!” he gushes, rushing forward and offering me a slice from a tray he’s holding.

  I take it hesitantly before popping it into my mouth. Flavour explodes straight away and I groan, closing my eyes and savouring the sweet, soft, warm texture of the cake. I open them again to find everyone looking at me. Covering my mouth, I speak as I chew. “It’s amazing,” I confirm.

  That’s all the prodding they need, because the poor man finds himself surrounded by hungry carnies, all grabbing samples and throwing them back as quick as they can and reaching for more.

  “Boys, manners,” I warn, throwing the man an apologetic look as he holds the now empty tray to his chest with a shocked look.

  They all stop eating and look at me with various expressions on their faces. After a moment, Nixon slowly hands over the half bitten piece of cake to me as a peace offering. I accept it with a soft smile.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, popping it into my mouth and chewing before looking at the man.

  “We’ll take four of the pound cakes and ten loaves of bread.” I nod, knowing we need to stock up. Plus, it’s rare we have such treats and the stagehands deserve one for all their hard work. I look at the boys staring sadly at the empty tray and laugh. “Better make it eight pound cakes,” I correct myself.

  “Yes, miss, straight away!” the man gushes, jumping as if forgetting himself while he turns to rush inside. He hesitates, coming back out and placing the tray down before rushing back inside, shouting the order to the his wife.

  I smile, looking out over the street as we wait for our order. Jesse slips his hand in mine and I weave our fingers together, just people watching. The way they dress here is so strange, all bright colours and tight clothing. It shows how wealthy this city is compared to others we’ve been to, where people wore clothes made of random scraps of fabric sewn together.

  I hear the man come back outside, packing our order and talking to the guys, but something catches my eye across the street. I squint, letting go of Jesse’s hand as I step off the curb and onto the cobbled road to try to get a closer look. The voices of the guys and the baker fade away as I meet a piercing gaze across the road.

  There, standing next to a bookstore, is the same child as before. The one who warned me, the one who I gave food to when we first arrived. Two other dirty looking children are behind him, their eyes locked on me. My attention is drawn back to the boy when I notice him mouthing the same word over and over.

  Leave.

  The sound of spinning wheels and a horse neighing causes me to jerk my eyes from the boy. I jump back right before a wagon speeds over the spot where I was just standing. With a shaky inhale, I look back at the children and see they are gone.

  “Rhea?” Nixon asks quietly, placing his hand on my shoulder. I drag my gaze away from the bookstore and glance behind me. Nixon and the others are standing there waiting for me, looking worried.

  I shake it off, forcing a smile. “Sorry, was just looking around. We ready to move on?”

  “Yeah, the baker told us about a shop up here he thinks we should visit,” Jesse says, sounding excited. His enthusiasm dims when he notices the look on my face, so I force myself to get as excited as him as I remember Alcide’s words.

  “Let’s go then!” I grin.

  He smiles and turns to lead the way. I look back over to the bookshop one more time, but it remains empty. Holding on to Nixon’s arm, I force myself to ignore the child and continue enjoying my day.

  Act natural, Rhea.

  The shop they want to visit is only down the street on the corner of a junction with steps leading up to the black, three-story building. Gold calligraphy lettering fills the frosted windows, proudly declaring the shop “Gregoria’s Tailoring.”

  I follow them as they head inside, and I feel eyes on me again. Glancing over my shoulder, I see a man completely dressed in black with a whip at his hip watching us from the other side of the road. When I meet his gaze, he smiles slowly, and I shiver from that look and the lack of humanity in his eyes. He wants me to know he’s following us...why?

  I speed up and shut the door behind me, peeking through the glass and see the man still there. Stepping back, I turn to look into the shop and my mouth drops open.

  “Er, I think we are in the wrong shop,” I whisper to the others, crowding the entrance.

  We stick out like a sore thumb. The walls are all open brick with fancy gold decorations. A clean, white table and glass cabinet lay at the back with an old-school, golden cash register. The rest of the shop is filled with racks and racks of suits, all grey, black, and sophisticated.

  There’s a curtain next to the desk covering what must be a doorway to the back, and it flutters open as a tall man bustles out, carrying a suit. He steps up to the white table and carefully lays the suit down.

  He has a measuring tape in one hand, one wrapped around his neck, and a piece of chalk behind his ear. His hair is shaved at the sides with swirls through it, and what looks like golden glitter carefully encrusted in the swirls. The top is large and fluffy, with big curls, and it’s, well, wild. His eyes are hidden behind big, black framed glasses, and his face is thin and long. He looks like a man who laughs a lot and belongs here, if the tailored trousers, shining shoes, and waistcoat are anything to go by. Hell, he even has a bow tie on.

  I look down at myself and at the others with a cringe, knowing we are about to get thrown out. You can take us freaks out of the circus, but you can’t take the circus out of the freaks. Our clothes are bright and in your face, daring you to question what and who we are. They mark us a different, something we usually like.

  The man is muttering to himself before he glances up and spots us, freezing before bursting into action. He slides around the counter and heads our way while I step back, expecting to be thrown out. His eyes are open wide and a smile splits his face, lighting up his brown eyes. I frown in confusion, not expecting him to react to our presence this way.

  “Welcome, welcome, pleased to meet you! I’m Gregor of Gregoria’s Tailoring, obviously. What can I seam you?”
He laughs at his joke and I raise my eyebrows, looking at the others to see them with the same unsure expression.

  “Er, hi?” I offer, when no one else speaks.

  His smile swings my way and he checks out my outfit and gasps. “Oh my, those colours are marvellous!” He grabs me and the others quickly move to stop him, but all he does is spin me around, humming and harring.

  “I love it. The gold, the black. Oh my, your hair is marvellous!” he gushes, touching the ends, his eyes bright. I side-eye the guys for help, but they just grin. Traitors.

  “You would look amazing in that dress. Yes, you would, yes. It was made for you. I knew it was, I saw it. Come, come!” he shouts, grabbing my hand and pulling me after him. I look over my shoulder with a pleading look and the others follow us with a laugh as Gregor leads us through the curtain to the back. I thought there’d be storage back here, but I’m surprised when it opens up into a windowless room. Bright lights hang from the ceiling, somehow not making it feel closed in, and there’s a dressing room tucked in the corner. Along the opposite wall is a mannequin and a workbench, and in the middle of the room is a white, circular pedestal. If a person were to stand on the platform, they’d be able to see themselves from all angles in the mirrors placed around the room.

  He lets go of my hands and rushes over to his work bench, which is piled so high I’m not sure how he finds anything, but he seems to know exactly where to go. When he runs his hands above the garments, he tilts his head in concentration before his hand stops above a pile.

  “Yes, yes, for you. It was you, I knew it!” he shouts, digging through the pile.

  I look over at the guys and my eyes are drawn to Nixon. He always seems to have some sort of sixth sense about things, and I trust his intuition. So when he nods and gives me a reassuring smile, some of my nerves settle. We watch the man rush around the room as things pile up in his arms, before he comes to a stop in front of me. His arms are full of various material and he has a wide grin on his face.