by Karin Shah
~ ~ ~
Sofia couldn’t tear her eyes from Roan’s. The green in them fascinated her. She needed to label it, but it didn’t seem to have a name in human language. The thought almost freed her.
Since when did she use human as an adjective for language? All language was human. Wasn’t it?
But the color wasn’t the only mystery, because the man who’d so firmly rebuffed her gave every sign he was going to kiss her.
His focus on her face lingered on her lips, his strangely distorted pupils were so wide open they appeared round, the angular lines of his face softer. She could almost see the pounding of his heart through the thin T-shirt he wore.
She should have been angry. He’d spiked her heart yesterday like an Olympic volleyball player. She’d felt bruised in the aftermath. Still, her injured pride warred with a preternatural hunger.
There seemed to be a separate entity inside her that wanted nothing more than Roan’s touch. Bridge the gap, it urged. Mingle our scents, stake my claim.
He moved closer, his gaze latched on hers. She was trapped in an airless bubble. Heat pooled in her veins, molten wax rushing to gather in her sensitive areas. Inwardly, she begged for his touch, while at the same time afraid of what might happen if his lips met hers.
Would she lose herself in this tide of wanting only to have him withdraw again? His lips inched nearer. His breath feathered her mouth.
And then he yanked back, stepping away from her on his long legs.
The warm air was suddenly frigid and then searing. She caught her breath. He seemed poised to leave without speaking, but he halted and looked back at her, as if he might . . . what? Apologize?
His rapid withdrawal left her too stunned to feel more than cold and empty, though the pain began to build in her chest.
“Think fast!” Clearly, unaware of the tension, Lu laughed from the other side of her vehicle. She’d thrown something, but Sofia couldn’t see what.
Roan dodged whatever it was easily and it flew past him. Sofia had only a second to absorb the sopping wet sponge’s trajectory . . . directly at her face.
Her hands had been braced on the window ledge and the door frame behind her and she whipped them up, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath, sure she would be too late to protect her face. It probably wouldn’t sting too much, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
There was a rush of air and then . . . nothing. Nothing happened.
When she peeled her eyelids up, peering out, Roan’s large knuckles were in front of her nose. He’d caught the projectile.
How the hell had he moved fast enough to dodge the sponge and then narrow the distance to catch it? There were no other words for his speed and reflexes except superhuman.
She stared at him for a moment in astonished wonder. Finally, her rational side stepped forward, an arsenal of explanations at the ready. He had very long arms and legs. He must have made a diving catch, not unlike a major league outfielder going for a homerun.
“Sorry, sorry!” Lu popped up and took the sponge from Roan, allowing Sofia to finally gather her wits.
“Thanks for the save.”
He cleared his throat, surveying both Lu and Sofia for a beat, then wiped his hands on his shorts and ducked his head, shielding his face with his hair. “It was nothing. I’d better get ready for rehearsal.”
Lu shrugged and threw the sponge in the bucket, throwing another apologetic glance Sofia’s way. “I guess we all better.”
~ ~ ~
Five days later, Sofia stared out the window of her RV at the deserted campground. The last rays of the setting sun turned the horizon purple above the trees. God, she was bored.
The performers had been totally absorbed in rehearsals since the first day. The few roustabouts who’d come were busy painting the tent. It had transformed from its original off-white to a charcoal color to sporting a pattern of trompe l’oeil stone blocks. The façade would eventually resemble a castle.
There really wasn’t anything for her to do. Maybe she’d drive her car into town and find the library. Except, unhitching her car from the back of the RV seemed like too much effort. Everything seemed like too much effort. Eh, the library was probably closed by now anyway. She clicked on the TV and stared at the screen without really absorbing the action.
A knock on her door snapped her back to awareness. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. 9:00 p.m. She peeked out the window again. Night had fallen.
It had gotten dark in the RV. Had she zoned out for that long?
She shook her head and answered the door, flicking on lights as she went.
Lu stood outside. The other woman wore black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder, sparkly, black top. Dangly jet earring swung low enough to graze the tattooed skin of her shoulders. Her hair was half up in a topknot and half down.
Sofia blinked. “Wow! What’s the occasion?”
Lu shimmied her shoulders, making the top glitter in the streetlights. “Thanks! We’re having a party and you’re invited.”
Sofia ducked her head to examine the well-loved sweatpants and T-shirt she wore. “I’m not exactly dressed for a party.”
The redhead barged up the steps and past her into the kitchenette. “That’s why I’m so early. We’ve got plenty of time to glam you up.”
Sofia slammed the door to keep out the mosquitoes and spun to face the fire eater. “I don’t think I’m up for a party.”
Lu skewered her with her piercing black gaze. “Don’t worry about avoiding Roan. He won’t be there.”
Sofia opened her mouth and then closed it. She’d made sure her schedule and his didn’t mesh since he’d made his feelings clear almost a week ago and then she’d made a fool of herself expecting a kiss.
Still, she couldn’t have rumors starting. “I’m not avoiding Roan. I just have business . . . stuff”
“Please, everybody’s avoiding Roan. He’s not sociable on his best days, and lately, he’s been snapping people’s heads off left and right.” A frown puckered the other woman’s milky forehead.
A twinge of worry panged in Sofia’s chest, but she ignored it. She wasn’t going to feel sympathy for a man who’d made it perfectly clear he wanted to be left alone. “I really . . .”
She started to refuse again, but the other woman tutted and shoved her into her bedroom. “I know it’s hard to be beloved, but the cast wants to show you some of the show. Get changed.”
~ ~ ~
Sofia’s eyes went wide as she examined the newly-built curving stage and the massive red theatrical curtain hanging from the rafters. She’d handled the work orders and given instructions, but hadn’t realized how much had been accomplished.
Lu nodded. “I know. We’ve been busy while you brooded in your RV.”
Sofia had to chuckle. Lu always called things as she saw them. Even if she wasn’t always right. “I wasn’t brooding. I was staying out of the way.”
The redhead raised red eyebrows darker than her hair. “Sure.”
Slim came out from behind the curtain that now separated the backstage from the front. “Good! You’re here. Have a seat.” He walked to center stage and stuck his head through the break in the red curtain. “We’re ready!”
Lu snagged two folding chairs from somewhere. Bench risers had been ordered, but they hadn’t arrived as yet.
The lights came on with a click. A sound system played first traditional carnival music, then segued into the heart-pounding rhythm of digital club music.
The next forty-five minutes dazzled. Everyone from Slim to the Sven the fishman had identified and honed a talent. The performers moved from act to act almost seamlessly.
At the end, Lu clapped, leaning over and whispered, “We’re still doing a version of the act you saw before with Roan, b
ut since we need the big asshole to do it, we’ll show you another day.”
Sofia stood and clapped louder as the cast took their bow. After the music was off, she addressed the group. “I was a little unsure about Guy’s idea when he suggested it, but I can’t wait to see kids’ faces when they see the show. This was amazing!”
Lu whooped and thrust her fist in the air. “Yeah, let’s party!”
Cheers went up through the group. They filed outside. They’d left the large mess tent with the carnival, so they relocated a bunch of picnic tables together under a couple smaller party tents and started several of the nearby barbecues. Citronella tiki torches had been strategically placed around, spicing the air with smoke and citrus, and casting fickle yellow halos that grew and shrank and shimmied.
Two huge coolers full of ice with soft drinks, beer, and other adult beverages buried underneath were brought out. Soon, chattering people lined up to help themselves to burgers, hot dogs, and chicken, and plates were piled high with corn on the cob, all varieties of salads, fruit, and desserts.
Sofia wiped the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin and patted her stomach, “I haven’t eaten so much since Christmas.” Though admittedly that had only been a little less than two weeks ago.
Someone put the local top forty station on. Lu chugged the last of her beer and towed Sofia to her feet. “The fun’s just started.”
Chapter 7
When the hell is the party going to stop? Roan turned off the lights, then lay back on his bed, shoved his hand through his hair, and groaned. They’d been out there for hours. It was well after midnight.
It would be all good if he didn’t have super hearing, but as it was, he might as well have been out there in the thick of things. He’d unintentionally eavesdropped on Sofia and Lu all night. Nothing, not reading, or watching television, or surfing the Internet, could distract him enough.
The cast wasn’t exactly quiet either. Out here in the country, they felt free to whoop at the top of their lungs at each new song, even the spotty grass and hard-packed Florida clay couldn’t muffle the sounds of their footfalls as they danced.
Worse, his face was aching and the strange lumps had started to itch. He scrubbed at his sore cheekbones. They were only slightly more pronounced then when he’d discovered the changes more than a week or so earlier, but when would it stop? Would it stop?
How much more monstrous would he become?
He threw a hand over his eyes and fought to clear his head for sleep, but once again, Sofia’s husky voice impinged on his sensitive eardrums.
This time though, she didn’t sound happy. “I told you, Sven, I don’t want to dance.” Sven went by The Fish Man in the sideshow. He was a strapping, fortyish former marine who’s tattooed-scales rivaled Roan’s in expansiveness, if not detail. He was usually a pussy cat, but he could be obnoxious when he drank.
“Sven!” Sofia’s voice cut through the other sounds, high-pitched as if annoyed.
The timbre of her cry burrowed straight to his amygdala and flipped a switch in Roan. Adrenaline drove him to his feet. Blinded by some instinct he couldn’t name, he wasn’t aware he’d even moved until the door of his trailer blocked his path.
Barefoot and shirtless, he tore it open and jumped to the ground. His gaze immediately landed on Sofia.
Sven had her arm clenched in his strong hand and towed her toward the space between the tables where a small group still danced. Sofia had her lips pressed together, but a tiny whimper of pain escaped as she allowed herself to be manhandled toward the dancers.
The sound snapped the last thread of Roan’s restraint.
He roared and lunged so quickly at Sven that one second his hands were empty and the next the sweaty cotton of Sven’s wife-beater filled his fists.
In a heartbeat, he thrust the older man back several yards, pinning him to the wall of an RV hard enough to rock the carriage of the vehicle.
Screams rolled through the encampment. The music played on, but the dancers had now turned to watch the commotion. The combined scent of terror rolled toward him like a cloud. Their fear should have broken through his rage, but it didn’t even make a dent.
His mate had been hurt. He had to protect her. He must dispose of the threat.
Something sharp pricked the pads of Roan’s fingers. He lifted the other man high into the air. Sven yowled as if stabbed.
Roan’s clicking growl bounced off the aluminum body of the RV and electrified the damp air. The odor of adrenaline, blood, and the stink of urine suffused the breeze. Sven had pissed himself.
The scent triggered something inside that took control of his actions. Pain seared through his jaw. Kill the enemy. Rip out its throat.
He yanked the man close to follow through. As he prepared to bury his teeth in the other man’s flesh, a voice pierced the haze of fury and instinct.
“Roan! What the hell are you doing? Put him down!”
His mate needed his attention. Was she injured?
He dropped the other man on his ass in a puddle of his own piss and pivoted to verify her well-being.
Her dark curls vibrated around her, her tan cheeks were bright red, and her eyes flashed with displeasure. She tapped a delicate, high-heeled foot on the ground. “I don’t know what you think you were doing. I’m not some damsel in distress. I had the situation under control! Look what you’ve done!”
She flung out a shaking arm toward the man on the ground. Small, growing dark circles colored his dingy tank top where Roan’s fingers had been.
Surprise and dismay drove the air from his lungs. What had he done?
Was it possible he’d gripped the older man hard enough to break the skin with his fingernails? How had he lost control so completely?
He was conscious of every move that he’d made since he’d left his trailer, but it was almost as if some other being had been in the driver’s seat.
He lowered his head, his hair falling forward. His face heated beneath the curtain as shame washed over him.
Sofia’s chin clenched like a bulldog latching onto its prey. She braced her hands on her curvy hips. “I should fire both your asses. I can’t have this kind of shit damaging the morale of the outfit.”
The heavy blanket of stars bowed down to smother Roan. Fired? This was the only home he knew. Ice crawled through his veins. Where could he go if he didn’t have the side show? Who would hire him looking like this?
And then there was his lack of real papers and his arrangement with Señora Flores. Not only would he be stranded without transportation, he’d also be homeless.
Sofia crossed her arms over her chest. “Sven, this is your only warning. Keep your hands to yourself, unless you hear the other party say ‘yes.’”
The other man slowly gained his feet. A strapping female roustabout named Sue stepped forward to help him to his bunk.
Sofia glanced up at the sky and blew out a long sigh. “Roan.” She stopped, as if what she wanted to say were bottlenecked inside her head and needed to be sorted so it could file through. “You’re on probation. Any other physical outbursts will result in your immediate termination. Do you understand?”
Roan swallowed. A reprieve. His knees wanted to buckle. He fisted his hands and nodded, unable to speak past the lump of relief in his throat.
“Good.” Sofia jerked her chin and turned to the crowd. “I think the party’s over. We have another long day tomorrow. Let’s get to bed.”
Chapter 8
The knock on Roan’s door a few mornings later jolted him awake. For the past few nights, he’d tossed and turned and only fell into a fitful nightmare-filled coma when the birds had started their pre-dawn status update.
His face still ached like a son-of-a-bitch, and now his muscles smarted every time he moved, strained from being locked to
prevent his body thrashing around as he battled strangers in lab coats, holding giant liquid-filled syringes.
The visitor was Lu of course. If he hadn’t been able to tell from the sounds she made on the other side of the door, she would still be the only choice.
It might have been a couple days since his attack on Sven, but if he’d thought he was a pariah before, currently the other performers tiptoed around him as if he were a violent mental patient.
The other women in their act had relaxed a bit, but they were still in no hurry to hang out. It was just as well, though. After what had happened, he trusted himself even less than they did.
Though he’d fought the primitive inner voice for at least a year, he’d never surrendered to it as completely as he had with Sven. His veins still froze when he thought of how close he’d come to killing the tough former marine, and not just killing him—tearing him to shreds.
He was fit company for neither man nor beast.
The thought almost made him snort. He’d thought himself monstrous before, now, well, there was no other term for the creature that assaulted Sven than “beast.”
“Stop moping and come out!” Lu had apparently gotten tired of waiting. “Get cleaned up. I’ll expect you on stage in fifteen minutes!”
He slid on a pair of basketball shorts and opened the door, dragging her inside the trailer before she could descend the flimsy metal steps beneath the door.
“Geez,” Lu muttered, regaining her balance on the scarred linoleum by the door. “Hello to you too.”
Roan rubbed the back of his head, probably further tangling his sleep-knotted hair. “Look, maybe it’s better if I don’t come to practice.”
Lu’s answering chuff sounded disgusted. “You can’t not come. That’ll get you fired too.”
