Twelve
Delilah
I watch Ezra from the sidelines as he steps out into the spotlight, dominating the entire tent as the Ringmaster, spinning his tale of the devil, abandoned by his own mother and cast out of hell. There’s something about him this evening, something...darker than usual. It’s like waiting for a kettle to boil, watching as it’s on the verge of spilling over. When he finally introduces me, with his booming voice, it’s like my skin begins to tingle, every inch feeling electric. I feel alive. And with a confidence that seems to be growing every time I enter the tent, I twirl and spin my way into the light. This evening, to cover up the marks and bruises that have begun to blossom, marking his destructive touch, I’ve painted red and orange flames over my bare skin. Alina and Needles helped, and my body looks like it is ablaze as I dip my fans into the gas, ready to begin my routine.
The crowd practically screams as I light my fans and begin to move my body to the rhythm, starting slow, with hand twists, moving my hips to the same beat as I dip low and move back up. Kicking my leg up, I spin on the one foot, weaving the fans around me as I do. Tilting my head back, I throw one fan into the air, spinning and sliding down into the splits before I catch it again. The audience goes wild, and I love it. I feel free. I feel adored. I feel powerful as the next song begins, and I pick up the pace.
The entire piece is a success, and after I’m done, I’m reluctant to head back to my trailer just yet. Outside one of the food stalls, Alina, Wren, and I are bought drinks by an audience member. We sit and watch the people go by as the sky grows dark and the crowds begin to thin. Ezra liked us to do this after we’d finished our performance so that people could take pictures with us and spend more money at the various little stalls, and it wasn’t exactly a hardship, being an object of curiosity has its perks—like free drinks.
I’m just enjoying the warm evening air, taking pictures with anyone who asks, and laughing with Alina when I see him in the shadows. Ezra is with two women, behind the palm reader’s tent, and my heart feels like it's about to burst.
He snakes his hand around the waist of one, and the other slings her arms around his neck as he laughs with them. It’s strange hearing him laugh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do anything other than smirk or get angry.
The blonde woman hanging off his neck giggles in return, and I can’t stop the way it feels like a knife is being twisted in my gut. This afternoon he was having sex with me, and now he was with someone else.
“Is that Lottie?” I ask, nodding in their direction.
Alina and Wren share a look, before she reaches out and places her hand gently on my arm. “Delilah…”
It hasn’t escaped my notice that she’s avoided answering my question. They all do. It’s like Lottie is a ghost, a phantom, existing in the shadows of the Carnaval.
“We warned you not to get attached.” Next to me, Wren growls before standing, ready to return to the camping area. He doesn’t care much for drama, and being around people who constantly want to stroke him is tiring.
I twist my lip ring, getting a tiny kick out of the pain. “I’m not, not in the way you think.”
Ezra has pushed me into a position where I need him, and it was clear that this transactional relationship was about to be on his terms. He made himself the source of my pain, the thing that keeps me grounded in return for staying at the Carnaval, but to him, I’m nothing. I’m less than nothing now. He warned me that he only fucks women once, but earlier, he made it sound like he’d be coming back for seconds.
I watch as the pretty dark-haired woman with fake tits rubs her hands up his chest, and as she moves to stroke his horn, he jerks away and growls in warning before his mouth claims hers. The blonde slides a hand inside his pants, causing him to break his kiss. With another laugh, he maneuvers, leaving the women to kiss each other while he sparks up his cigarette. It’s when the flame lights up his face, cheekbones cutting shadows on that sinisterly beautiful face of his, that I see what I should have known all along, his black eyes weren’t on them. He was watching me. He was getting a kick out of my pain.
I clench my fist and exhale slowly as Alina whispers ‘Bastard’ beside me. I may be able to accept the fact that he’s going to fuck these women, but it doesn’t mean I need to see it. Nothing in my life had ever been mine, and while I was finally getting to reclaim my body, how could I be so greedy as to ask for him too? I knew better.
His mouth lifts into a smirk as he bathes in the darkness, women hanging off him. Standing, I shake myself off, enjoying the jangling noise the metal disks hanging off my hips make. Drawing the attention of a few people passing by, I pose for pictures, smile never slipping, before I head back to my trailer for a change of clothes and my backpack. I needed to clear my head, because it was a mess of emotions, and while I was still onsite, I couldn’t sort through my thoughts.
I sit in the sand, digging my fingers in until they go cold and watch as the waves crash against the shore, dragging everything back into the ocean. Why was I being so foolish? We literally just had sex this afternoon. Because he understood me. Because he saw me for the broken doll I was, and he didn't care. He had offered me a home, a safe place, pain and pleasure. He offered me everything and then took it away on the same day.
A voice calls my name on the breeze, and I don’t turn around. It’s not him, I know it’s not, and even if it was, I wasn’t going to just kneel at his feet and give in to him so easily again.
I hear my name again, and with a grumble, I stand, brushing the sand off my shorts, not caring that people glance at my scars as they pass, before I look around for the source. When I can’t see anyone I recognize, I stroll along the waterline, collecting shells and stowing them away in the pockets of my hoodie. When I feel calmer, I make my way back to the campsite. Ezra owed me nothing, and I only owed him for the trailer. If he wanted me to pay for it, then he could accept money because what I did with my body was my own business.
The campsite is almost creepily quiet when I get back, and weaving through the tents and trailers in the dark, I finally arrive back at my new home. I’d stocked the cupboards this afternoon, so when I let myself in, I go straight to the fridge and grab a bottle of white wine and some chocolate pudding. Today has been a shitshow of crazy, and the only way to finish it off is to get drunk and eat pudding like my life depends on it.
“Wake the fuck up, Delilah!” I hear Ezra bark as he hits his fist against the door of my trailer, rattling the walls with every pound.
Groggily, I push my hair out of my face, it feels like I’ve been eating sawdust as my tongue is heavy and thick in my mouth. Seeing the empty bottle, I groan and cover my eyes as he bangs the door again.
“What?!” I yell back.
He chuckles from the other side of the door, but it’s a bitter noise. Cruel, and I know that he’s only here to make things difficult for me. “Oh, so you are alive then?”
Standing, I stretch and groan as my body creaks and clicks. Groaning as I dump the empty bottle in the bin, I hiss, “Barely.”
I grab a can of cold Coke from the fridge, it’s the only thing that helps with a hangover—not that I’d ever had many of those in my life due to the punishments I’d get, but I was picking up things quickly in the Carnaval.
“Did you forget that you’re on breakfast duty today?” His voice taunts as he tries the locked door again. I wasn’t about to let him in. I didn’t have the brain capacity to deal with him this morning.
“What?” I can still hear him from my room as I pull on some clean clothes and tie my hair up in a messy bun. “No one ever gets up to eat breakfast, Ezra, go away.”
There’s a minute or two of silence, and I use that to go into the bathroom and put toothpaste on my toothbrush. He must be leaning against my door now as his voice seems closer. “Then get up and clean the equipment.”
“No,” I say between brushing.
“You want to stay here or not, Delilah?” he threatens. He was always goi
ng to be able to hang that over my head if I gave him the power to do so.
Pushing open the door, I knock him off my steps. Waving my toothbrush, I glare at him. “Why are you being like this?”
“I’m an asshole, baby, or did you forget that?” He winks and reaches up, snatching my toothbrush out of my hand, wiping the remaining paste of it before using it to brush his horn, making me gag.
He’s deliberately trying to get under my skin, to irritate me and remind me of who is in control here. But it’s his mistake, wasting this much energy this early in the day because I’m too hungover to give a shit. “How could I forget?” I hiss as he uses my toothbrush to scrub his nails now. “I’m reminded of what a monster you are every time I see your face.”
“Good.” He tosses it back to me, and I catch it without thinking, before dropping it on the floor, disgusted. “I don’t want you to think I’m going easy on you just because we fucked.”
I snort. “I wouldn’t dream of assuming you’d be nice to me.”
He crosses his arms and gives me a hard glare. “I told you, I never fuck the same twice.”
My head is pounding as the sunlight hurts my eyes, and I feel my stomach churn. Why was he doing this now? And so fucking early? “Yes, you did.”
Stepping toward me, he gives me that smirk. The same one he had last night while he had two women hanging off him like motherfucking jewellery. “Although, I might make an exception for you...”
I gag again, not bothering to hide it. “Don’t assume I’d drop my panties for you a second time, Ezra.”
He narrows his eyes, and I swear to god that I am going to drag him away from me by his horn if he doesn’t stop staring at me like I’m some sort of freaky science experiment. “Are you being difficult because you were jealous last night?”
I decided last night, about halfway through the wine, that I wasn’t going to care about what Ezra Black did. I couldn’t let him be the center of my universe like some god, the price was too high. I had plans, things I wanted to set in motion, and it was about time I started focusing on that. I groan again. “No, it’s because I just want to fix myself, and I don’t need you for that.”
He smirks again. “I think you do.”
I close my trailer door behind me and barge my way past him as I head over toward the practice tent. “I think I have equipment to clean. You’re in my way.”
Thirteen
Ezra
Last night, it was like I’d lost control with Lottie having one of her episodes, and finding the body of the surfer, I needed a way to claw back some of the power I’d spent years cultivating. When I’d put on my Ringmaster outfit, I’d become the version of me that I knew the best. That was the real me. The Devil. And Delilah needed to realize that. I wasn’t her saviour, I wasn’t her harbor in the storm because I was the fucking storm.
I hadn’t realized that I’d get that much of a kick out of seeing her hurt, seeing her standing there, twisting that damn lip ring was infuriating. Her face was awash with a soft kind of sadness, but it was her big blue eyes. They weren’t sad, they were on fire. She was furious. The best part, she didn’t even realize it. And that made me want her more. I wanted to own her. Her sheltered upbringing clearly hadn’t prepared her for an anger like that. It’s why she cut, why she made little ribbons out of herself that she tried to weave back together. She didn’t know how to feel the rage, how to embrace it fully, and that’s why she simmered away before running to the beach to let it all out. Once she’d gone, the women trying to fuck me seemed boring, and I couldn’t get hard, much to their disappointment. I’d gone back to the campsite alone, with a bottle of whiskey and a new pack of cigarettes, like I usually did. But Delilah didn’t need to know that, I wanted to make her jealous a little bit more before I caved and gave her what we both wanted.
This morning, when I’d knocked on her trailer door, I don’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t a hungover pixie with messy pink hair and a mouth smeared in toothpaste. I also didn’t expect her to be so indifferent to me. I send her to clean the practice equipment, and I don’t hear from her or see her for the rest of the day or the next one, it’s like she’s mastered the art of being invisible.
“Stop looking for her,” Wren growls as he stretches out, laying on the grass at our feet as a few of us eat chilli in the sunshine.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about,” I hiss back, arching my eyebrow at him. Alina hides her smile while Maia looks away, but I know they’ve been talking about me. Fucking gossiping cunts. He scoffs, but it quickly turns into a yelp as I straighten one of my long legs and give him a quick kick in the ribs.
“Asshole,” he breathes and swiftly rolls away before I can smack the back of his head.
“Hey, this asshole just docked your pay this month.”
“What the fuck?!”
“Learn to keep your fucking mouth shut, mutt,” I sneer as I stand, no longer interested in the food on my plate.
“Delilah is in town, handing out flyers with Jerry,” Yager drawls as he stirs his food with his fork slowly, blue eyes following Indigo as the sickly looking man enters the tent and queues up for his own plate. “Although, I don’t understand why you care.”
Maia nudges him, and he looks perplexed, before glaring at me and rolling his eyes. With a soft sigh, he goes back to watching the newest member of our little freak show.
I bite my tongue as I throw the leftovers into the bin. Yager was right, why the hell did I care? If she wanted to avoid me, so be it.
“I don’t give a shit where she is.” I scoff. “You have ten minutes, and then you had all better be in that practice tent preparing for tonight. Your performances are getting sloppy, and I won’t have it.”
I ignore their noises of protest, eyeballing them until the words die on their lips. I didn’t fuck around with my show, and I’d be ruthless if I needed to be. This was my world. They followed my rules.
I stand in the shadows with Jerry, watching as Delilah strides out into the light. It’s incredible watching her perform, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away as she dips low, hips swaying to the beat. Tonight, she’s ditched the fire fans and is using the devil stick, twirling and throwing it like a goddamn cheerleader. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that’s where she learned how to do this routine. If only her high school could see her now...
She’s a crowd pleaser, her music has them clapping and moving in their seats, but also the way she looks like she’s on fire draws them in. Women envy her, the way her body seems to ripple and move like water, and the men want to fuck her. Hell, I want to fuck her. But I was going to have to catch her first it seemed.
“Trouble follows that one,” Jerry mumbles next to me as she throws the stick high into the air, and does a forward roll, before springing to her feet and catching the flaming baton again.
“What do you mean?” I watch as the music changes into a slow piece, and Delilah transforms into a ballet dancer, her pirouettes slow and delicate as she twirls the stick, creating patterns in the air.
Jerry clears his throat before leaning in. He smells like coffee and sweat, it’s the sign of an honest worker. We’d had riggers who liked to drink on the job, who did drugs or just didn’t give a shit about what they were doing—but Jerry was one of the good ones. Need help handing out flyers? No problem. Hack a surfer up and bury the parts? Not an issue. Want a tent erected? Hell, he’ll do it with a smile. It’s why I paid him better than the others.
His voice is low in my ear, making the hackles on my neck rise. “There was a man in town with his eyes on her, I didn’t like the way he watched her.”
Delilah moves into an arabesque position, her leg raised behind her in a straight line as she spins the stick around her body, making it appear as though she was standing in the middle of a fire tornado.
Rubbing my face before crossing my arms, I growl, “Did she notice?”
Jerry slaps my back, concern clear on his weathered features. “Na
h. And that’s why she’ll end up in trouble. Clueless, that girl is.”
I don’t have a reply for him because it’s true. She may have a horrific past, evident by the way her body is patchwork of torture and pain, but she is ignorant when it comes to the real world. She chose to be here, the devil’s lair of all places, and no sane, normal person did that.
Her music ends, and after taking several bows, she dances out of the light and to the edge of the ring. Once she’s shrouded in darkness, I see the smile slip from her face as she hands the baton to Jerry and completely ignores me.
I follow her to the dress tent, calling her name, but still, she refuses to acknowledge me. “You won't get paid if you keep this up,” I bark as she unties her hair, letting it fall around her face.
“Then don’t pay me and put it toward my trailer debt,” she shoots back, not looking at me. Grabbing a face wipe, she begins wiping off the makeup from her face, moving down her neck and taking the paint off her cleavage before grabbing another wipe.
Putting myself in her view, I lean against the dressing table with my arms crossed. “I told you, sucking my dick might get it paid off faster.”
She snorts, rubbing away the orange and red smudges on her stomach. “And I told you, I’m fine with one ride. I want to get off the carousel now.”
She still refuses to meet my eye, so I grab her chin and force her eyes to meet mine. The rage there has me swallowing and longing to wrap my hand around her pretty little throat and squeeze. “I am not a fucking fairground ride.”
“Could’ve had me fooled, the way you seem to see more ass than one of those pretty ponies eternally going in circles.” Delilah laughs to herself as she pushes me off and wipes down the skin visible through the split in her harem pants.
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