Pride of the Lion: Hades' Carnival, Book 3

by N. J. Walters

  Sabrina frowned again. “No charge. Your conference fee covers the reading.”

  “Great. Good. Well, it was nice to meet you.” Araminta slowly backed away. Sabrina watched her, her brow furrowed with concern. It was starting to freak her out, so Araminta turned and hurried out of the room. She needed to get changed into something less businesslike for the evening party.

  She glanced over her shoulder and found the fortuneteller still watching her. Araminta shivered but then shook off her unease. It was all part of the woman’s shtick, her act, telling her to beware. She probably changed it up between people, telling some of them they’d find love, others that they’d gain wealth and a few were probably told to beware of danger.

  It was a good plan, because people were always falling in and out of love, having small windfalls of one kind or another, or having something bad happen to them. The odds were good that she’d be right much of the time.

  A voice in the back of her head whispered that Sabrina Wolfe might be the real deal. Maybe she was psychic, maybe she could read the tarot and see messages that others might not see. “And maybe I’ll become a supermodel,” Araminta muttered.

  Putting the entire exchange from her mind, Araminta rode the elevator up to her floor and headed to her room to change. She’d had a wonderful day and she wasn’t about to let some ominous warning from a complete stranger ruin her mood. She’d met so many kind and generous people, some of whom had even read her books and had nothing but good to say about them. It was a heady feeling.

  She let herself into her room and tossed her purse aside. What a rush it had been to have people come to her table this afternoon and want her to sign her book for them. Several of them had even wanted their picture taken with her. She’d handed out bookmarks and pens and signed books for almost two hours. When she’d left the ballroom, Luna was still signing books for fans. That would probably last another hour or so. That’s why the fortunetellers had been set up in another room. Luna always had something planned to entertain the conference goers.

  She kicked off her shoes and undid the buttons of her blouse, pausing to smile as she replayed the day. She had so many ideas running around inside her brain. Her fingers itched to get at her keyboard to write it all down, but she knew she didn’t have time. Not if she wanted to be ready in time for tonight’s dinner and party. Araminta glanced longingly at the computer. “No, don’t start.” She knew herself well enough to know if she started writing she might not surface for two hours or more. That would make her extremely late. “There will be plenty of time to write when you’re home alone next week.”

  She shimmied out of her skirt and tossed it onto the bed. She went to the closet and stared at the dress she’d brought for tonight’s dinner. It was sleek in design, but it had pockets large enough for her to hold her room keycard and a few dollars so she wouldn’t need to bother with a purse. The hem fell to just above her knees and the color was basic black. But the neckline showed some cleavage and she could dress it up with the necklace she’d brought. It was a daring new look for her and she was looking forward to wearing it.

  Being here this weekend had brought out another side of her and she planned on enjoying every minute of it. She’d dance again tonight and maybe even have a drink or two.

  Grabbing clean underwear, she headed off to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the evening.

  The party was in full swing. Once again, the bar was set up against one wall and the dance floor was hopping. There were a few more men here this evening and Araminta wondered where they’d come from. Maybe some of the husbands or boyfriends had joined the conference goers for the final night.

  “Here you go, pretty lady.” A glass of ginger ale appeared in front of her and Rick, the bartender from last night, smiled at her.

  “You remembered.” It was very flattering and she smiled at him, lifted her glass and had a sip.

  “I never forget a pretty lady’s order.” Like last night, he was once again shirtless and wearing tight leather pants and leather boots. His dark hair fell around his angel’s face, framing it to perfection. He was also flirting with her. What she couldn’t figure out was if it was for real, or because he was hoping for better tips.

  And when had she become so cynical?

  Either way, it didn’t matter. She was leaving tomorrow. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some harmless fun.

  She raised the glass and saluted him. “Appreciate it.”

  He propped his elbows on top of the bar and leaned toward her. “You know,” he began, his voice low and husky. “I get off in a couple of hours. Maybe you’d like to go for a drink in the hotel bar, or something.”

  It was the or something that made her catch her breath. A shiver raced down her spine, but she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or arousal. This handsome-as-sin guy was asking her out for a drink. Was it the dress? No, couldn’t be. Maybe she was giving off pheromones or something after last night’s dream. She’d been thinking about it on and off all day long and it had kept her in a continual state of low arousal. Rick was nothing like her dream man, but there was no denying he was hot.

  He reached out and grazed his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone, startling her. Her glass jostled and several drops of ginger ale spilled onto her hand.

  “What do you say?”

  What did she say? She wasn’t sure what to say. Rick’s smoldering dark eyes never left her face. He was obviously waiting for an answer.

  “Ah.” Araminta threw caution to the wind. “A drink would be nice.”

  Rick laughed and straightened away, but not before he picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth, licking off the droplets of spilled ginger ale. Araminta sucked in a breath at his bold action.

  “A drink it is.” He glanced down at the other end of the bar where a group of women waited. “Gotta get back to work, but I’ll see you later.” The emphasis he put on the word you made it sound very intimate.

  He turned away and headed toward the other end of the bar, giving her a great view of his perfect butt. What in heaven’s name was she doing? She’d made a date with a man she didn’t even know.

  “You’re having fun,” she told herself. And she had to stop talking to herself in public. The problem with living alone or with just a cat was you got used to talking out loud. Fine when she was alone, but it made her seem just a bit strange in a crowded room.

  Leaving her glass behind, she headed to the dance floor. Multicolored lights flickered on and off, casting everyone in an unearthly glow. The music pounded in her ears and vibrated up through her feet and into her body. She felt strangely alive and anticipatory.

  Would she enjoy drinks with a handsome man or would it turn into more? Her stomach jumped at the mere thought. This wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t do things like this. But maybe it was time she did. Agreeing to have a drink didn’t mean there would be anything more to it than that. She was in a hotel surrounded by tons of people. It would be perfectly safe and maybe even fun. And she’d probably get tons more ideas for another book.

  Someone grabbed her hand and swung her around and onto the dance floor. Araminta laughed at her partner, recognizing the tall brunette from the book signing.

  “Remember what we learned in the dance workshop,” the woman, whose name was Patty, shouted over the thumping music. Patty circled her hips exactly like the woman in the belly-dancing workshop had showed them. Araminta followed suit and a half-dozen other women, laughing and dancing soon joined them in the display of their newly acquired talent.

  Araminta didn’t know how long she danced before she decided she needed a break. She was sweating up a storm, her dress sticking to her skin. Not good considering she’d agreed to meet Rick for a drink when he got off work.

  She was already having second thoughts about that. Maybe she should cancel. After all, she didn’t know him and had no plans of sleeping with him.

  Last night’s dream popped into her head once again. That didn�
�t count as a one-night stand as it was only a dream. But she feared that she would probably measure every man she ever met against the one from her dream. Rick, who was indeed a hottie, wasn’t as attractive to her as her dream man, which was sad considering one was very real and the other nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

  “Get a grip,” she whispered under her breath. “Nothing has to happen that you don’t want to. It’s only a drink. Go and enjoy yourself.” She worked her way out of the room and into the relative quiet of the hallway. The ladies’ room was just down the hall so she made her way there. Two other women were leaving just as she went in. They smiled and held the door for her.

  She took one look at herself in the mirror and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her skin was moist with perspiration and several locks of hair had come loose from her bun. She grabbed some paper towels, wet them and rubbed them over her skin, dipping beneath the bodice of the dress to her armpits. She used several more before deciding she was as fresh as she was going to get without going to her room for a shower.

  Her hair was easy to take care of. She’d done it so many times she could style it in the dark if she had to. She let it down, finger-combed it and bundled it back up again, poking pins in strategically. When she was done, she looked almost like herself again.

  Her cheeks were still rosy and her eyes seemed wider than usual. It was the smile on her face that was most unusual. She was really enjoying herself.

  She used the facilities, washed her hands and started to head back to the party. She’d meet Rick for a drink. After all, why should she turn down an offer like that from a good-looking man? She was single and could do whatever she wanted. It was time to start living more in the real world and not only the ones she created in her mind.

  She heard male voices just as she opened the door. For some reason, she paused with the door barely cracked. She immediately recognized one of the speakers. It was Rick, the bartender. She leaned in and pressed her eye to the slight opening. She could just see the two men standing outside the men’s room next door.

  “I’m telling you, man. Go for the slightly overweight ones. Most of them don’t have boyfriends or husbands, and they have low expectations. They’re the most desperate. You can get laid easy. Probably two or three times.”

  “I don’t know, Rick,” the other man replied.

  Rick snorted. “What’s to know? You want to get laid tonight or what? Spread some charm around and smile. They’ll fall into your palm like apples falling from a tree.”

  The other man laughed. “Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

  Rick slapped him on the back. “You should. I’ve already got three lined up for tonight.”

  They sauntered back to the ballroom, but Araminta remained where she was, frozen by Rick’s cruel words. Desperate. Overweight. Easy. Hurt shot through her and she took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. She’d wanted to believe tonight was different. That she was different.

  She might feel like Cinderella at the ball, but she wasn’t a princess, nor did she have a fairy godmother. She was plain, ordinary Araminta.

  On the heels of hurt came anger. Sharp, powerful anger. It shoved aside the pangs of hurt and filled her with indignation. How dare he? Who did he think he was anyway?

  She pulled open the door and strode out into the hallway. She ought to head back to the party and confront him, but she wouldn’t. Professional pride stopped her. This weekend was too important for her career for her to risk it over a guy with an inflated sense of himself.

  It was time to call it a night. Time to get ready to return to reality. She’d go back to her room and pack her things. She planned to head out first thing in the morning after the final breakfast get-together.

  Decision made, she headed down the hallway toward the elevators. The muted sounds of laughter, voices and music echoed from the still-hopping ballroom. She ignored it and hurried past, not wanting to run into anyone. The corridors were surprisingly empty considering the crowd that was here for the convention.

  One of the doors to another ballroom stood open on her left and she hesitated as she passed by. The sign outside said AUCTION in bold letters. The information beneath it said the sale was taking place tomorrow afternoon and they would be selling off the remains of an old-time carnival. Curious as to what was being auctioned off, she took a peek inside.

  At first glance, the room seemed empty, other than what appeared to be a ticket booth with chipped and faded paint off to her left. But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed a light was on in the far corner of the ballroom. She took a few hesitant steps before her feet faltered and she came to a halt. She blinked, certain she couldn’t be seeing what she thought she was.

  In the corner of the room, beneath the light was the carousel from her dream.

  But that was impossible. It was only a dream, a figment of her imagination. It wasn’t real. Maybe she’d passed the open door yesterday and caught a quick glimpse of the carousel. She might not remember seeing it, but her subconscious would. That made perfect sense and explained her dream.

  She took a step back toward the doorway and stopped, chewing on her bottom lip. She really should head to her room, shower and pack. But the carousel beckoned, pulling at her as if with invisible threads.

  “One minute,” she promised herself. She tiptoed into the room and glanced around to make certain no one else was here. Heavy tarps were piled in one corner covering other pieces of equipment, but she was definitely alone.

  She thought about closing the door but decided against it. She wasn’t staying long and she didn’t want to shut herself into the room by herself. There was something about the entire thing that was giving her the shivers. This was like something out of a horror movie—woman leaves safety of party to explore by herself and ends up being killed by a psycho serial killer.

  “Get a grip.” She’d definitely done too much reading about demons and curses for her new series. It was turning her into one of those women afraid of her own shadow. She wasn’t having it.

  The warning the fortuneteller had given her earlier this evening went through her head. Beware. Danger. Things aren’t what they seem. Maybe Sabrina Wolfe was the real deal. Maybe she was right.

  “Don’t think about it.”

  A carnival sign was propped up against one wall. It was meant to be lit, enticing men, women and children to come and play and spend their money for a few hours of fun. But was currently dark. Still, she could read the words. “Shade’s Carnival.” Must be the name of the carnival the carousel had come from.

  She’d decided against using Hades’ Carnival or the Devil’s Carnival in her book. Too obvious. She’d settled on Black’s Carnival, naming it after her new agent during the rewrites of the first book before it was published. Too bad she hadn’t thought about the name Shade’s Carnival. It was close to Hades. Would have been cool to have several of the lights go out when one of the heroines saw the sign. But it was too late to change now, and she was happy with the name she’d chosen for her fictional carnival.

  Beside it sat another faded sign that listed the prices for various rides and the sideshows. She ran her finger over the lettering, trying to imagine what the carnival would have looked like when it was set up and everything was running.

  It was easy to envision the flashing lights and blaring music, the laughter and squeals of the crowds, the smell of the grease and sugar from the food and the mechanical whoosh from the rides. She’d done a lot of research on old-time traveling carnivals for her last two books, and these signs were definitely from the forties or fifties, maybe even older. It was hard to say.

  Maybe she should stick around tomorrow long enough to bid on one of the signs. If they didn’t sell for too much, it would be cool piece of Americana to hang on her office wall.

  She left the signs and cautiously crept across the room to the carousel. It was uncannily like the one in her dream, right down to the chipped white, red and gold paint an
d the two remaining animals sitting on it. The wolf appeared just as vicious as the one from her dream did. His mouth was open, exposing sharp fangs, ready to rip at his prey or his enemy.

  A shiver raced down her spine and she rubbed her hands over her arms. This was crazy. She really should just turn around and leave. She started to, but something compelled her to carry on.

  Araminta slowly walked around the carousel. It would have been spectacular in its day with the beautifully carved wood, vibrant paint and gilt trim. And this was no children’s ride. The animals had both been carved larger than life, suitable for an adult to sit on.

  There were many empty spots and she looked down, wondering what had been there. A small plaque caught her gaze. “Serpent.” She wondered what that would look like. It was hard to picture a large snake. Maybe it was more dragon-like. It was hard to say.

  She went around the carousel, reading the various metal plaques. There was a phoenix, tiger, jaguar and a bear missing. She was almost around the carousel when she came to the other remaining animal.

  She knew what it was, but was half afraid to look at it. Would the lion be like the one in her dream?

  Araminta slowly raised her head and met the gaze of a huge, majestic creature—a lion, the king of the beasts. And he did indeed look like a king with his thick chest, muscular legs and enormous paws. But it was his face that held her attention. His mane was thick and shaggy, done in shades of yellow, orange and brown. His mouth was open on a silent roar, exposing sharp fangs and a pink tongue.

  She shivered as memories of her dream man rushed through her. His tongue had been clever and the texture had been like fine sandpaper. “Forget him,” she admonished herself. “Concentrate on what you’re doing here and now.”

  She peered into the creature’s eyes and took a step back. They were molten gold and they seemed to be staring right at her.

  Chapter Four

  Araminta was overwhelmed with the urge to run but was unable to move. She was rooted to the spot.