Last Kiss Goodnight oa-1

by Gena Showalter

  Jecis leaned forward and latched his hard fingers onto her jaw to keep her attention on him. His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits.

  “Nothing to say to me?” he began.

  “I’m . . . sorry,” she said, shifting in her seat. It was the truth. She was sorry he was the man he was, sorry Solo was here, sorry for everything that had happened that she hadn’t prevented.

  “I’m not talking about tonight, I’m talking about this morning,” he said, surprising her with the calmness of his voice. He released her.

  “I—I—” Had no reply that would encourage that sense of calm.

  The only saving grace was that she hadn’t challenged his authority in front of witnesses. The way the circus worked, Jecis called the shots and no one was allowed to question him. Ever. Anyone who voiced an objection would find himself—or herself—fighting Jecis in front of every member of the family, and being made a very bloody example. If that person survived, he and all of his family would be kicked out. Unless he had a pretty wife or daughter, of course. They were allowed to stay and marry other men.

  “Do you like Matas, Vika?” he asked casually. Too casually.

  Wait. What? “No.” Violently she shook her head.

  “He told me you’ve already given yourself to him.”

  Outrage stormed through her, making her stupidly blurt out, “He lies! I promise you, he lies.” She had never been with a man, and, to be honest, had never had a desire to change that.

  Until Solo. Until she’d kissed him.

  But even then, she wouldn’t. Having sex meant sharing a part of yourself with another person, binding your body to theirs . . . perhaps even your soul to theirs. Sex was total vulnerability, just another way for a man to dominate a woman.

  No, thank you.

  “There’s no reason to deny what happened,” Jecis said.

  “But—”

  “I must admit, I was upset at first. However, after some thought, I find that I like the idea of grandchildren.”

  Oxygen congealed in her lungs. This had to be a trick. She’d yelled at her father earlier today, shoved him, and had gone to the clearing without permission. Again! Yet he talked of grandchildren?

  A puff on the cigar, a haze of smoke, and for a moment, only a moment, she saw a mask descend over his features. One with sharp bones, red eyes, and fanged teeth.

  “Matas is right,” he said. “You have too much time on your hands, and that time gets you into trouble.” Irritation infused his tone. “Just so you know, the Mec has already been found. Matas left us to take care of him.”

  A tide of remorse joined Vika’s anger, but she somehow managed to keep her expression blank. Can’t give a reaction. In circus terms, “taking care” of a person meant “torturing and killing.”

  Poor Rainbow. He’d reviled her more than all the others, and he’d even tormented her more than any of the others combined, but she’d admired his spirit. No matter what had been done to him, his strength had never waned.

  “What will be done with the other one?” she asked, and she wasn’t quite able to hide her emotions this time. There was a quiver in her voice. “The new one?”

  His lips pursed with distaste, and he said, “He was shot. I think that’s penalty enough, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Thank you, thank you, thank you. “That’s kind of you. Daddy.”

  A softening around his eyes. “In the morning, I’ll have Matas remove the Mec’s cage until his replacement can be found.” He placed the cigar in the ashtray, his gaze sharpening like a blade. “Now, then. Let’s talk about what happened tonight.”

  Every muscle in her body tensed. He was going to ask how Solo had gotten to the Mec, and why she’d failed to scream for help, and she had no answer for him. Not one that would satisfy him.

  “Do you recall what happened to you when you left the circus all those years ago?” he asked.

  Another yes slipped from her.

  It was a few months after her father had purchased the “perfect candidates for his zoo.” By that time, she and Mara had become friends, and she’d wanted so badly for the girl to be happy. Mara, who missed her husband desperately. Mara, whose pregnant belly had grown larger every day.

  Vika had bonded with her at first sight, really, the fragile-looking female reminding her so much of herself. Mara had said that, once she was free, Vika could live with her, that her husband was a mighty warrior and that he would protect her.

  Vika had freed Mara and all the others—but Mara had abandoned her, never showing up at their meeting spot. And then, Jecis had found Vika and the rest of his menagerie, all but Mara, within a week.

  They were killed.

  She was beaten.

  But even though she’d lost her hearing that night, she’d been glad to see him. There was a dark, dangerous world out there, one she hadn’t been prepared for. One that had nearly chewed her up and spit out her bones.

  She’d had no protection, no money, and no one had known her father, so no one had known to fear his wrath. She’d had to walk the streets, begging people for food and money. Men had called her terrible names and had tried to drag her into abandoned alleys. She’d had to hide in trash bins. Fear of the vast unknown had tormented her mind constantly, and, well, it had been too much to bear.

  All she’d known was the life inside the circus. Back then, they’d traveled from city to city in their trailers. They’d stayed in each location for two weeks, the first few days used for setup and promotion, Audra and the other attractive females going into town to spread the word and lure the males. After that, the shows began.

  Always lookouts had been stationed on the roads, and if the cops were spotted, they were stopped. If the authorities couldn’t be paid off, the performers packed up as much of the equipment as possible and blazed a trail into the next town.

  Now, Jecis had another way to travel. One Vika despised. One she would never again have to endure once she left this place. And when she was settled into her new life and certain she couldn’t be found, she would even help the police hunt her father and shut the circus down once and for all.

  “And do you ever want to leave the circus again?” he asked silkily.

  “I don’t want to leave the circus,” she said. Again, it was the truth. She wanted to stay. For now. Once she had enough money . . . once she’d found the key to the cuffs, her answer would change.

  “Do you think that ugly otherworlder you fed, the one you watched while the humans were out and about, no less, will take care of you once he’s free of his cage?”

  He knew she had broken the rule a second time. She gulped.

  Solo will take care of you, you know. He really will protect you.

  The voice penetrated her mind, and she gasped. It was the voice from that morning. The good one. The nice one.

  “What?” her father demanded.

  “I . . . I . . .”

  “Never mind. I asked you a question. Do you think the otherworlder will take care of you?” her father insisted.

  She . . . did, she realized. He would take care of her. For a little while, at least. After all, he had used his body as a shield for hers. A man willing to do that wasn’t a man who would throw a helpless girl into a pit of alligators. But that wasn’t what Jecis wanted to hear.

  “He’s a prisoner, Daddy,” she said. “He can’t take care of anyone.”

  Once again, the “Daddy” worked. His expression softened, and he failed to realize she hadn’t exactly answered his question. “No one will ever love you the way I do. No one will ever take care of you the way I do. Isn’t that right?”

  She gave a barely discernable nod. No, no one else would ever “love” her this way. She would make sure of it.

  Pacified, he settled into a chair and picked up his cigar. “Good. Then you realize the otherworlder would just as soon murder you in cold blood as take you with him, so there’s no reason to discuss this subject further.”

  Before relief had time to work thro
ugh her—no more punishment for her, either!—he added, “Now, for the next order of business.”

  She racked her brain, trying to figure out what he was going to rant and rave about, but only drew a blank.

  “Matas,” he said.

  And she groaned.

  “He wants to marry you.”

  She linked her fingers, hoping to stop herself from twisting and wrinkling her shirt and revealing the depths of her sudden turmoil. “That’s too bad, because I don’t want to marry him.”

  “He’ll treat you well. I’ll make sure of it.”

  That sounded like—no, that was approval. “You’re actually considering this?” she gasped out.

  “I am. He’s given me his word that he’ll never harm you, and that he will forever remain here at the circus with you. With me.”

  Dark spots winked through her vision. A lump grew in her throat, threatening to cut off her supply of air. All of her fine plans were beginning to crash and burn around her. Her father was changing the very fabric of her existence, trying to rewrite the future she had mapped out for herself.

  Worry not, the voice said. Evil will not win in the end.

  Worry not? How could she stop from worrying?

  Audra abandoned the bedroom and strutted into the kitchenette. She poured herself another drink, blew a tiny stream of fire over the top, and nibbled on a cracker as the flames died down, her hips swaying to a beat Vika would never hear.

  Audra grinned when she realized Vika was watching her and said, “You might as well take Matas up on the offer. No one else will have you.”

  Jecis sat up straighter and banged his fist into the counter, rattling the ashtray. “Anyone would be lucky to have her. She’s the daughter of a champion, and she will bear strong children. The problem has been finding a man worthy of her.”

  A man he could control, he meant. A man who would keep her here, within reach, for the rest of her miserable life. A man who would occupy her time with one pregnancy after another, keeping her too busy to get into “trouble.”

  “No,” she croaked. “I won’t do it.”

  A treacherous light glittered in Jecis’s eyes—one she recognized. Danger was near. “I want this, darling little girl, and so you will do this. Audra will help you plan the wedding.”

  “No,” she repeated, her mouth so dry her tongue felt like a strip of sandpaper. If Jecis insisted on going down this road, she would have to run away sooner rather than later, before she’d saved enough cash, before she’d found the key to the cuffs. But she would do it, no question.

  Slowly her father pushed to his feet. He flattened his palms on the tabletop and leaned toward her. “You will marry him with a smile on your face, Vika, or I will give your treasures to Audra, and place the animals in someone else’s care. I will be forced to express my displeasure with you . . . over and over again. Do you understand?”

  Fourteen

  In repentance and rest you will be saved, in quietness and trust is your strength.

  —ISAIAH 30:15

  T HE NEXT FEW DAYS passed in a blur for Solo. He should have recovered faster, and wasn’t sure if the drugs swimming through his system were the problem, if X still wasn’t able to feed him strength, or if the whip had been laced with a poison his senses were now too dulled to notice. Whatever the reason, he remained weak.

  It wasn’t the weakness that tormented him, though. It was the memory of his failure. He’d tried to escape, had been so close to succeeding, but “so close” wasn’t good enough.

  He had never before botched a job so sublimely.

  At least he wasn’t dead like the Mec.

  The thought wasn’t the comfort it should have been. Guilt filled him every time he recalled the Mec’s screams for mercy that had come only with the rising of the sun. Amid the silence, Solo had watched a satisfied Matas haul the dull, lifeless body away.

  Solo had fallen back asleep, only to awake to find that his cage had been removed from the clearing and placed in front of Jecis’s mobile home. A monstrosity if ever he’d seen one. A skull and crossbones was painted on the side, staring at him. A giant cubby stretched over the driver and passenger seats, and the belly was almost too fat for the road.

  He would have preferred something smaller, faster, sleeker, but there were no other trailers blocking the front of this one, so evacuation would be easy. He could carry Kitten and Vika away, no problem.

  Yeah. He had a new plan.

  Obstacle one still hadn’t changed: getting out of this cage.

  Most times Jecis entered or left the area, he paid Solo no attention. Every so often, he would stop and stare, saying things like, “I’m lord and master here and I’ll break you yet. Just you wait.”

  Audra stayed in the motor home every night. The two would call each other names, fight, have sex, then fight some more. Jecis was never afraid to use physical force, but he must have avoided the girl’s face, because she never emerged with visible bruises.

  He wasn’t sure what he would have done if he’d heard Jecis beating Vika.

  Vika, the contradiction. She’d sprung from the loins of the heartless Jecis, and yet she was kind. She’d helped Solo even though he’d heard Jecis order her to stay away, placing herself in danger.

  Danger. From her own father. That wasn’t supposed to be the way of things. Especially with a female like her, handicapped by deafness, unable to hear her destruction coming, and as tiny as a fairy princess, unable to withstand very much abuse before breaking.

  Even the thought of a single strike to any part of her body filled Solo with one of the darkest rages he’d ever experienced.

  He wanted, needed, to talk with her. He could help her, and she could help him. She could be his biggest ally—he wanted her to be his biggest ally. But though she visited him three times a day, she never looked at him to read his lips.

  Every morning she appeared mere minutes after Jecis’s departure, as if she was hiding somewhere close, watching and waiting. She returned in the afternoon, though never at the same time, and then again in the evening. She would give Solo food and water, and even rags and enzyme spray to clean himself, but she wouldn’t speak a word.

  So many times Solo had almost grabbed her arm. If she wouldn’t talk to him, he couldn’t get her to help him. If he couldn’t get her to help him, he would have to force her. He would have to remove her thumb with his fangs or his claws, as he’d planned the first time he’d met her. Then he could hijack the trailer and drive her to a hospital, where the thumb could be reattached. But . . . he could never get past the image of her blood running down her arm as she clutched the wound to her chest. Could never get past the horror of hearing her scream from the pain. Could never get past the idea that she would cry.

  Oh, if she cried, he would be a goner.

  He was disgusted with himself. Freedom should come before anything, especially a woman partly responsible for his circumstances. Yet he’d come to accept two startling facts. With or without the vow, he wouldn’t be able to so much as scratch her and he had to include “keeping Vika safe from everyone else” in his plans.

  “Feeling better, I see,” a female voice said, jerking him out of his head. “You’re even sitting up like a big boy. You must be so proud.”

  He focused on the here and now. Audra was propped against the corner of his cage. She wore a black, bra-like top, with multicolored sequins sewn along the edges, a mix of yellow, blue, green, and red. Those same sequins were pasted to her bare shoulders and down her arms, along her—

  One of the spider tattoos had moved from the inside of her elbow to her wrist.

  Temporary tattoos, then. Though he’d never seen any that looked so real. He finished his study of her. Her middle was utterly bare. A pair of black panties covered her essentials, and a pair of fishnet stockings clung to her legs, though they were only visible to her knees. High-heeled boots looked painted to her lower calves and feet. A peacock tail rose from behind her, fanning up and out.

&n
bsp; Her slick of dark, pink-striped hair was pinned into a bun, and her makeup was so thick and wild she almost appeared inhuman. Her eyes did appear inhuman. Contacts dusted the green with glitter. Her lashes were the color of the feathers, blue and green and black, fanning out over her brows and temples.

  “Still have nothing to say to me?” she asked, and sucked a lollipop into her mouth.

  One of the spiders popped its legs from her skin and walked down her arm.

  No way. Just no way. Had to be the drugs, messing with his mind. He had to be hallucinating. “What would you like me to say?”

  Lick. A slow, sensuous grin curled the corners of her lips, and she hummed her approval. “Why don’t you start with how beautiful I am?” Liiick.

  She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but Solo knew better than most how deceptive appearances could be. He’d never been one to judge by exterior.

  The one and only girl he’d dated had lived on the farm next door to his. Plain but sweet Abigail, whom X had liked but hadn’t wanted him to date and whom Dr. E had despised and had wanted him to bury in his backyard. Abigail was the first and only girl to ever want the man and not the monster. He’d picked her up every time she’d had too much to drink, protected her any time she traveled into the city at night, and helped her climb through her bedroom window whenever she’d snuck out. She’d kissed him a thousand times, said a thousand thank-yous, but had never given him anything more. Despite that, she had genuinely seemed to care for him—but only ever when they were alone.

  One day, indignation had gotten the better of him and he’d given her a choice. Take all of him, all the time, in front of everyone, or have none of him. She had cried, she had begged him to remain in her life, but in the end she had been unwilling to change and so he had walked away.

  He had never looked back.

  Vika, he would think about forever, he suspected. His attraction to her scorched deeply, inexorably, and not just because she was exquisite, the loveliest female he’d ever beheld. Again, looks mattered little to him and he would have liked her if she’d been as ugly as, well, an Allorian. It was the way she’d treated him. As if he mattered.