by Joey W. Hill
Purely from a female perspective, Medusa couldn’t argue with Charlie’s decision to not cover it with an antenna headdress like her own. But when she saw Merc noticing her evaluation, she hastily looked away. Harmless appreciation of the appeal of any of the Circus players was as natural as breathing, but with Merc, one had to curb such instincts.
She wasn’t expecting to see John Pierce, since Marcellus had him on security detail, but she was very glad when she saw him approach from the shadows. She closed her eyes to inhale his scent as his arms slid around her and he did his now usual and very welcome press of lips along her throat. Merc shifted several feet away, either to give them the courtesy of some privacy or, more likely, to give John a wider berth, based on the men’s distaste for one another.
“Doing all right?”
She clasped her hands over John’s. “Yes. And you?”
“Better for having seen you. Your eyes are dancing like stars. They’re going to love you. You should think about doing the Promenade.”
“Oh. Well…maybe.” Standing back here or performing far above their heads was one thing. But to walk close to a crowd, within touching distance? She thought of Rand and the little girl touching him. In their minds, he was a large, furry dog. She was something for which they had no context. But there were plenty of beings in the Circus as different as her.
“What if MyTech hears about me?”
“We’re here for three days, and you’re only doing the first night’s performance. They don’t allow any phones or recording devices in the tent. By the time word gets out you’re here, you’re back in the portal, and they have to predict where the Circus goes next. It’s covered. You don’t have to worry about that.”
He touched her face, his gaze passing with pleasure over her butterfly wings and the form-fitting dark costume she wore. “No pressure on any of it. Just have fun with this.”
John turned his attention to Merc, his expression neutral instead of outwardly hostile for once. “Take care of my girl up there.”
“Yeah.” Merc showed a flash of surprise at John’s straightforward request, but shrugged. “She’s got it down. Even showed me some new moves.”
“She’s good about that.” John stroked the shell of her ear. “All the snakes still zzz’ing?”
“Earthson is snoring,” she said. “Despite being the smallest, he’s good at making his presence known the most vehemently.”
“Well, you barely come up to my chest, and you pack a powerful punch.” John’s eyes gleamed and he brushed a kiss over her lips. “Knock ‘em dead, butterfly. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
At a gesture from Caleb, positioned across from them behind another screen, John gave her one last nudge and moved away to see what help he needed. The Circus’s strongman headed up the prop team that made sure everything was in place for each act. She saw the rings being set up in the shadows that would be lit on fire before she and Merc twisted through them. Lifting her gaze, she located the piece of equipment that would create a sheet of water like a waterfall, sparkling with the lights. It would also douse any sparks their costumes might catch after they passed through the fire rings.
Cai and Rand had relinquished the stage to the aerial silk and trapeze performers. Her heart lifted right along with the audience’s as she watched their graceful movements and the twisting, soaring conclusion act. It was a good segue to their routine.
Yvette stepped into center ring. She wore a silk top hat, a black corset and snug latex pants. Her ropes of dark hair fell to her waist and were sparkling with silver glitter. Her boots went to her thighs. She was an erotic fantasy to the adults, a glittering character for the children. When she spoke, her fangs caught the lights, deliberately elongated. Medusa shivered, remembering them penetrating Charlie’s throat, a display that had compelled new erotic territory for her and John in the tent of mirrors.
“You have seen our human performers fly on the trapeze and weave themselves in the silks,” Yvette said. “Now you will see a pair of butterflies bring silken wings and acrobatics together, in a way you won’t see anywhere else, because we are the Circus. The things you see here touch upon the dreams we all have of what life can be like…if we just free our imaginations.”
Her voice could charm and seduce. Medusa thought if she recited the alphabet, the audience would pay rapt attention. Even the members of the troupe seemed to pause to absorb the hypnotizing tones. She caught a glimpse of Gundar, standing beside the waterfall feature. His gaze was on his Mistress. While Medusa didn’t doubt his devotion to the vampire, she was startled by the bald emotion revealed in his expression. He loved her.
Did Yvette know? How would that even work? Gundar was a clear Dominant. Though he served Yvette’s blood needs as one of her second mark servants, and obviously shared pleasures with her as Charlie did, there had to be key differences to their relationship. Sometimes it felt as if the whole troupe was a book of stories waiting to be read.
She took a breath, shifting her focus to the here and now as Yvette withdrew and the first strains of the music Merc had chosen for their performance started. The classical piece would evolve into what he’d called a Latin number, a tango. To help Medusa better understand what that was, Clara had showed her the dance with one of the trapeze artists. Medusa remembered Marcellus watching, a slight set to his jaw as the trapeze artist moved her in the provocative movements, Clara laughing.
Another mystery. She’d never seen the two share even a kiss, yet the sexual energy between Clara and Marcellus was thick enough to cut with a knife. John’s phrase, when she’d asked him about it.
After the Latin part, there would be heavy metal rock for the more antagonistic part of their flight. From there it would rein back to a romantic denouement, a resolution. The act had been choreographed to convey excitement, danger and romance.
There’d been some concern about Merc’s handling of the male-pursuit-of-female theme, but after reviewing the idea in detail with John and Merc, and speaking to Merc at length, Yvette had indicated that the sexual tension element was low key enough, and Merc was showing enough self-restraint in rehearsals, that they could risk it with the current safeguards in place. Namely that it was being done under the close supervision of her or Marcellus, and tonight it would be in full public view.
John had been less placated. In fact, originally, some of his deepest follow-up concerns about her doing this lay with what he’d just reassured her about, MyTech’s search for her. But in the aftermath of remembering Klotho and Callidora’s deaths, as well as that of her other sisters, Medusa had struggled with a few dark days, despite Charlie’s healing touch. The worst moments came during idleness, when her chores were done and John was busy with his own. He’d therefore become more amenable to her performing when he’d seen how the rehearsals provided her a necessary distraction. As such, he and Merc had reached a wary accord, which he’d demonstrated just now by telling the male to look after her.
However, as the lights darkened and she backed out into the spotlight with precise, delicate steps, Merc matching her gait with a deliberate stalk, she realized something that none of them might have recognized until now. She’d already seen how the first acts—those whose rehearsals she’d witnessed—could transform into something far more substantial and magical when lights, music and an audience was involved. The audience might not only pick up on the sexual component to the piece she and Merc were about to perform, but feed it with their own subtle reactions. Which in turn could make it more vibrant, powerful and real for the two of them.
She wanted to believe she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a gleam in Merc’s eyes, as if he’d anticipated that all along.
It’s a performance, she told herself, holding his gaze. He moved forward, a quick lunge, and she left the ground in a short hop, her wings fluttering. That part hadn’t been choreographed. She’d reacted to the look in his gaze, and now his lips curved, the tip of a fang showing.
She admonis
hed herself to follow the choreography. She told herself what Yvette had said to her, several times. She hadn’t understood the context until this moment.
Don’t feed a wild animal.
She and Merc circled one another, and he put out a hand. She shook her head. When he tried to grab her, she spun gracefully beneath the mock attempt and flew behind him, settling in a half kneel as he turned and studied her, considering his options.
He did a somersault, followed by a pattern of elaborate twisting movements all around her, the dance of the male butterfly to impress the female. She changed positions several times to watch him and let the spotlight hit her spread wings.
He landed and stalked toward her again. She mimicked his movements, the somersault and the twist, proving she could do it as well. Mocking him, challenging him. He left the ground and they started to spiral upward together, their movements becoming more complex. As the Latin tango beat took over from the classical score, they moved forward, back, up and down, wings brushing, hands clasping and then releasing with the façade of reluctance. His eyes were burning into hers, and she moistened her lips, betraying a shift in her feelings from fantasy to reality.
“You like to submit, Medusa,” he muttered as he hovered close to her. “Your body hungers for it. You like a male to prove he can catch you. So let me prove it to you. Try to elude me, knowing you’ll fail.”
Abruptly, Medusa wasn’t thinking of the impact on the show, or the reaction of the audience. That kindling light in Merc’s eyes was a warning sign both Charlie and Clara had told her about. Maybe he’d honestly thought he could maintain control, but the live environment was triggering his incubus instincts, the deeper, far more violent nature he harbored.
If she kept her wits about her, she could handle it. She wouldn’t let the past rise up and try to choke her. She wouldn’t let this remind her of how Ukrit had used violence to subdue her, to take. As Merc would, if he could catch her.
She already knew showing fear was the wrong decision. Instead, she improvised, modifying one of the things they’d practiced to dive under him, catch his leg and twist him off balance. It gave her a head start. Right on time, the heavy metal started up with a clashing of symbols and primal drum beat.
She was vaguely aware of the audience’s applause and gasps as she navigated around poles and banked sharply against the sides of the tent. As she shot through the fiery hoops and waterfall, drops sprayed out over the rows of upturned faces. He caught her several times, spinning in the air with her, but she always twisted free. And somewhere along the way, she figured out what she needed to do.
She started to laugh, to tease him. Doubling back, she caressed his chest as she brushed past him, evading his grip again. She pulled the aerial silk loose from where it had been tied off and spun around him with it, tangling his legs and one of his arms. She draped it over his face, sliding her fingertips down to his lips as she hovered close, her wings beating to hold her aloft. As his gaze gleamed and fangs bared, she did a full flip and dove straight toward the ground as if she’d lost her balance, and was falling, falling, falling…
A collective cry exploded, but he caught her at what seemed like a scant few feet from the ground. This was what they’d practiced, but as he set her on her feet, she felt his tension. She knelt, her wings spread out over her back, one hand clasping the silk as he held the other end twisted around his arm. He was staring at her, breathing hard. His wings were fully spread, the purple gleaming like the light coating of perspiration on his muscled arms. The music ended.
The thunderous applause was enough to vibrate the tent, yet self-preservation kept her focus on her partner. Lifting her gaze to Merc’s, she let her lips curve, even though her stomach had turned into a mass of nerves. Yes, he liked control as John Pierce did. She could see that in the way he stared at her, kneeling at his feet. But unlike John, there was something that had control of Merc, something that might forever endanger anyone he wanted to call his own. The hunger of it was in his face, the quiver of his body. She wasn’t sure if he could move without hurting her, and wondered if that was why he remained locked in place, motionless. He confirmed it with a stiffly worded command.
“Go. Move slowly.”
She rose and curtsied to the crowd before she daintily walked toward the shadows. She was all too aware of the force of heat she felt behind her, and knew Merc had not taken his eyes off her, like a wolf watching prey.
She was halfway across the ring when the lights were turned off. She thought she heard a hiss from Gundar.
“Fuck, don’t kill the lights. He—”
Merc was on her in a heartbeat, with hard hands far too powerful to throw off. A fang punctured her throat as her head was yanked back. She bit back a scream, but then Merc was gone. John had her. She heard the sickening thud of a fist hitting flesh as she was pulled behind the curtains. She smelled Yvette’s scent with John’s, but then it was just John, holding her at his side as the lights went up. Merc was gone and Yvette was in the center ring, announcing the next act as if nothing had happened. The benefit of having players who could move faster than the human eye could follow.
She thought she’d felt the brush of another set of wings during the struggle. Looking down, she saw a dark green feather caught in the threads of her black costume. It told her Marcellus had been involved in pulling Merc off of her and taking him away.
Her heart was hammering against her rib cage. John held her close, and was pressing a square of cloth to the shallow puncture in her throat. “You okay?” he asked, his voice angry, but not with her.
“Yes. I think this just triggered…whatever his problem was.”
“You think? Christ, I knew it was a bad idea.”
“I wanted to do it,” she said softly. “And the audience loved it.”
“Yeah. Right up to the point where he would have drained your life energy in front of their eyes. Just…don’t talk for a few moments. I want to strangle you as much as I want to hold you.”
She much preferred him to do the latter, so she remained still, glad for the comfort of his arms. And for his next unexpected comment.
“You were amazing. I’ve never seen flying like that. You ran circles around him. He wasn’t expecting that. You followed his lead in rehearsals.”
“He is the veteran performer. But when I sensed he was losing control, I thought I should not be predictable. I’ve depended on my flying ability for my life plenty of times.”
“It showed.” John sighed. “When I saw what was happening, I wanted the snakes to be awake, to keep him away from you. I almost shouted out their trigger word myself.”
Remembering the look in Merc’s eyes, she shook her head. “Caught in whatever he fights inside himself, he would have hurt them.”
“Maybe. I feel for the guy in some ways, but at the same time I want to rip his goddamn wings off, just like Yvette’s always threatening to do. You sure you okay?”
“Yes.” She conveyed it by holding John as tightly as he was holding her. Yes, Merc posed a threat to her, but they were surrounded by friends.
Friends. She thought of them all as friends. It was a comforting revelation. And standing there with John, realizing how surprisingly not rattled she was, she realized something else.
Whether it was naïve or not, when John was nearby, she was beginning to have faith in happy endings.
Chapter Twenty-Six
John would have been gratified by her confidence, but he was dealing with more than just his tension. Before Medusa’s act, Marcellus had given him the okay to watch it, the others covering his security area assignment. Yvette had stood at John’s side, so he knew she’d become aware of the shift in Merc at the same moment he had.
“Fuck. He said he could handle doing this with a partner,” she grumbled.
She’d latched onto John’s arm as he started forward. “Marcellus and I will interfere if needed,” she said firmly. “I’ve already made him aware of the problem and he can be here in a b
link. We don’t interrupt the performance as long as things are under control.”
And they had been, John grudgingly admitted. Yvette’s lips had curved in a rare look of admiration at Medusa’s aerial maneuvers, the way she soothed Merc’s predator instincts while inspiring secret dark longings in the adult audience members.
Maybe what had him out of sorts was Yvette’s observation at that key moment. "She’s magnificent. She'll serve any Master or Mistress worth serving, JP. Even if circumstances take you out of her life, she will always have a place here. And we have plenty of Doms who would be pleased to help her continue to explore her needs and desires."
Circumstances. Like her deciding, despite her stated love for him, that she had barely had a chance to live her life, let alone explore relationships? He remembered the day she’d confronted him at their picnic, calling him on that bullshit. He was blowing smoke up his own ass. He had only one reaction to her choosing someone else.
Over his dead body.
When it was just the two of them tonight, he’d let her know again how incredible her performance had been. And then redden her pretty ass to communicate how much of a scare she’d given him. She’d admitted she wanted him to go deeper into her submissive instincts and her wish was his own. Especially if it could get this need to kill someone out of his gut.
Lady Yvette had said she didn’t have to join the Promenade. So had John. But the children’s delight with each of the acts, their lack of revulsion or fear, the energy they created, made her want to do it. So when it drew close to time for the Promenade, Medusa donned the outfit Charlie had provided her. Despite how busy the dressmaker was throughout the performance, adjusting and pinning, smoothing and tweaking costumes with her assistants, she’d been enchanted to have Medusa come looking for hers.
“Have fun,” the young woman said, pressing the costume into her hands. “I don’t have time to ensure the exact fitting, but if something is hanging loose, run back in here and I can do a temporary fix.”
