The Hearts Series

by L.H. Cosway

  He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the way that his large muscular frame moved mesmerised me. He was all hard, toned muscle underneath gorgeous tanned skin. I leaned forward in my chair, because it looked like there was scarring all along his shoulder and half of his back.

  “Are those….”

  “Burn scars?” Lola interjected casually. “That’s what they look like, but nobody knows for certain.”

  I glanced at her, unsure yet if I was comfortable with this girl. I was by contrast wary and delighted with her instant camaraderie. I’d never had a stranger come up to me and randomly act like we were already friends. For once, I wasn’t the eager one. Then again, I thought Lola and I probably came from very different worlds. Perhaps she did this kind of thing all the time.

  Thinking of Jack’s scars, I wondered if that was why he’d been staring at my burned hand so intensely today. Perhaps it brought back a traumatic memory for him.

  My eyes grew wide as he walked to the centre of the stage, holding out the two blazing torches. The crowd applauded when he began to swing them around dexterously, and my body got tense. He swung the torches in swift figure-eights, creating glowing swirls of orange in the dim light of the tent. I was both fascinated and worried that he might hurt himself, or worse, lose his grip on one of the torches.

  His movements were almost like dancing. He ran the fire along the length of one arm, and it blazed across his skin before flickering out. He licked at the other flame, then brought the entire torch into his mouth and swallowed the fire. Whoa. Sexily, he lifted a bottle to his mouth, took a drink, tipped a torch to his lips, and spat. Huge, billowing flames exploded outward, making it look like he was breathing fire. It held a terrifying sort of beauty.

  I heard quiet chuckling next to me and turned to see Lola grinning, “You’re fucking hilarious.”

  I frowned, unsure whether I should take offence. “What?”

  “You act like you’ve just seen a miracle.”

  “Well, I’ve never been to a circus before, so….”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s mad.” Then she dropped her face into the candyfloss and bit off a big chunk. She ate it like a three-year-old would eat a birthday cake, face first.

  Hearing delighted noises from those around me, I brought my attention back to Jack to see he was now swinging around pronged metal wheels, the tips all lit with fire. He reminded me of an ancient tribal warrior performing a victory dance, and it was sexy as shit. I felt a chill cover the surface of my skin, my pores prickling. There was something irrefutably carnal about this man, and I was shocked to discover how much he could arouse me without so much as a touch.

  Well, “shocked” was probably too strong a word. Since my mid-teens, I’d felt like I was a little preoccupied with sex. I mean, I had an active imagination and daydreamed about it all the time – probably because I had yet to find a partner who truly satisfied me. I was desperate to sate the foreign yet familiar hunger inside me. I’d always had this urge to explore, to experience something outside the realms of the normal. I’d had more than enough normal with Henry. Now I wanted more. Just…more.

  Marina came back onto the stage, declaring that Jack would need a volunteer from the audience for the next part of his act. Needless to say, I was dying to throw my hand up and offer myself, but I had no idea what volunteering would entail. If it was something embarrassing, then half the town would be here to witness it. I shuddered to think of the news getting back to Mum, and I’d already defied her tonight with my backtalk.

  So yeah, I craved sticking it to her like nobody’s business — I just had to formulate the actual courage to do so. One step at a time, I told myself, just as Lola shouted out, “Marina! Over here! I have a volunteer for ya!”

  She took hold of my arm and swung it into the air.

  “No!” I whisper-hissed, but she only winked at me and pushed me up out of my seat. Before I knew it I was standing, and a spotlight had landed on me, alongside Jack’s dark, indecipherable gaze. I stood frozen for a moment, uncertain of what to do, and then Marina was calling me to the stage and my feet were moving one after the other, the traitorous bastards. Okay, so maybe I was going to stick it to Mum sooner than I thought. And really, it was oddly liberating.

  Jack held his hand out to me when I reached him, and I placed my palm in his. Without realising it, I’d given him the hand that had been burned. When he gripped it, I hissed in a tiny breath at the sting.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, but he didn’t sound sorry.

  “It’s okay,” I replied as he led me to an upright wooden panel. Taking my shoulders in his big, warm hands, he gently situated me against it, my back flush with the wood.

  “I hope you’re good at holding still,” he said, and his breath hit the side of my neck.

  “Why?” I practically whispered. He was incredibly handsome, even more so now that I was seeing him up close, and I felt a little drunk on it.

  The edge of his mouth twitched, like he was holding back a smile. With one hand braced above my shoulder, he leaned in as he replied, “Because, blondie, I’m gonna be throwing knives at you, and I’d really hate to make you bleed.”

  Again, he didn’t sound like he meant what he said at all. And I didn’t think there was a single pore on my body that wasn’t tingling. I remembered items number three and four on my list: Have sex with a stranger and do something dangerous. Perhaps if I could get Jack McCabe to do me, then I could kill two birds with one stone.

  I hadn’t noticed before, because I was too busy staring at him, but there was a belt attached to the wood. I stood there as Jack took it and buckled it extra tight around my waist. He gave it a firm tug once he was done and smirked. I’m not sure why, but the action caused me to tremble. I think he noticed, too, because his eyes grew darker, if that was even possible.

  Surprising me, he placed his flattened-out palm on my belly. I had to try my hardest to concentrate on his words rather than the fact that my libido (the little slut) was willing his hand to move lower.

  “This is your core. Visualise it. Focus on it. Keep your body in this exact position, and everything will be fine.” There was the tiniest edge of a smile tugging at his lips, and it made me wonder if he was enjoying this, if maybe he was trying to make me nervous.

  Sucking in a breath, he continued randomly, “You smell like turpentine.” Then he drew up to his full and impressive height, and walked to the other side of the stage. I knew I smelled like turpentine because I often used it to clean my paintbrushes, and sometimes the smell got into my clothes. That wasn’t the part that preoccupied me; that part would be the fact that he’d taken the time to smell me, and I didn’t know whether I should be weirded out or turned on.

  Okay, so I knew which option my libido was going for. And really, maybe I was just as much of a weirdo, because what I’d wanted to reply was, “You smell like kerosene.”

  Jack gathered a selection of small throwing knives from the floor and demonstrated the sharpness of each by flinging them one by one into a block of solid wood, where they embedded themselves as though slicing through butter. My heart began to race, and I could feel adrenaline starting to flood my system. I was shaking very slightly all over as I remembered Lola’s words.

  I swear, every time he throws a knife at someone, I can’t be certain whether or not he means to hit or miss.

  I was hoping it was the latter. Perhaps I was crossing my “something dangerous” off the list after all. Damn my life. Why couldn’t it have been the sexy danger? Jack didn’t even announce that he was starting when he stood at least ten feet away from me, flipped a knife in his hand, caught it, then lunged with his whole body and flung the knife right at my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, and a hollow thud sounded at my ear where the knife had, thankfully, hit the board. Sounds of nervous excitement and clapping came from the audience as Jack continued his assault on me. He moved his body with the kind of skill that only comes from obsessive practice.

  Adrena
line drowned me, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

  A small squeak of fright escaped me when he threw a knife at my hip and it barely missed. In fact, I could feel the hard edge of the steel pressing against me. I was surprised it hadn’t cut into the fabric of my coat. Jack prowled around the stage, gaze on me, calculating his next throw. Everywhere his eyes looked, I felt positively laid bare. Molested by disinterest.

  I might as well have been a sack of potatoes for all the care he showed as to whether or not he might cut me. Deciding I couldn’t take any more, I kept my eyes closed until it was over and all six knives had been thrown.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  When I finally opened my eyes, Jack was standing before me, unbuckling the belt that held me in place. I didn’t move even after I’d been released, still trying to come to terms with the terror I’d just endured. All of a sudden, Jack McCabe was more scary than sexy.

  “That was a close one,” he said as he pulled out the knife that had landed just below my ear. I glanced to the side to see a tiny lock of my hair fall to the stage floor. Oh, my God.

  “You cut off my hair,” I gasped.

  “Only a small bit. Don’t worry — I didn’t leave a bald patch.” He chuckled darkly.

  I didn’t know what to say, but I was momentarily appalled at how cavalierly he was taking all this.

  “I could sue you,” I said, and then instantly grimaced. I sounded like my mother. It was only hair, after all.

  He leaned in, and I thought I saw him bare his teeth for a second. “Go ahead, pumpkin.”

  He said “pumpkin” with all the disdain most people would put into the word “bitch.” I didn’t feel safe right then, so I quickly scrambled off the stage and returned to my seat. In all honesty, I felt a bit like going home and having a nice private little cry. Get all the fear and sexual frustration out, you know.

  “Have fun?” Lola asked when I reached her.

  “Oh, yeah. Big time. Thanks for offering me up for sacrifice, by the way,” I said, annoyed.

  She laughed loudly. “It’s the sexiest thing that’s happened to you all year, admit it.”

  I snorted. She was dead right, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know it. Forcing myself to get back into the show, I watched the rest of the acts. They included a contortionist named Violet whose eyes and hair matched her name. She had to be wearing contacts. There was also a husband and wife duo of lion tamers, two clowns, and a group of three stuntmen, two of whom stood on the shoulders of the third as he drove a scooter around the stage.

  By the time it was all over, I’d just about gotten past the adrenaline rush of having knives thrown at me. I watched as Delia and her girlfriends walked by, giving me snotty looks as they did so.

  “Shit, did you shag one of their boyfriends or something?” Lola asked, amused. I’d almost forgotten that she was still sitting next to me.

  “Nope. I think they might be jealous that I got to have a near-death experience and they didn’t,” I deadpanned.

  “Ah, I see. Near death at the hands of Jack McCabe is certainly something to envy,” she joked, and nudged me with her elbow.

  I laughed despite myself. Lola stood and gestured for me to follow. “Come on, you look like you could do with a drink.”

  I stood, and she linked her arm through mine. Again, her familiarity was odd, but I went with it. I kind of liked her oddness. She brought me through a side passage that led backstage, and I saw the three stuntmen packing up their equipment. Lola waved to them.

  “Hey, Lola, who’s your friend?” a short, handsome one called.

  “My friend is none of your business, Pedro, so you can stick your eyeballs back in their sockets,” Lola replied, and gave me a conspiratorial grin.

  “Pedro’s from Brazil,” she explained. “He always uses the accent to get women into bed. You don’t want a slice of that venereal-disease-ridden action, believe me.”

  “Oh,” I said, lost for words.

  She laughed. “Oh, my God, has anyone ever told you that you have the best facial expressions?”

  “Um, no,” I said while she opened a door and led me out the back of the tent. There were motor homes parked all about, two large trucks, and a big open-air gazebo with rows of tables and benches. Lots of the performers had gathered there, drinking and eating. Some people I didn’t recognise, but I guessed they were the ones who worked behind the scenes. It must take a good deal of manpower to set up the tent and transport everything from one location to the next.

  Lola was still linking me by the arm when she brought me to a table where Marina sat with Jack and the husband and wife lion tamers.

  “Everybody, I want you to meet my new friend, Lille,” Lola announced, pushing me forward to sit in the empty space beside Jack and directly across from Marina. I felt kind of buzzed to be sitting next to him, but was disappointed when he didn’t acknowledge me.

  The red-haired ringmaster (mistress?) smiled. “We’ve already met. Nice to see you again, Lille. How’s the hand?”

  I touched my good hand to the bandage and shrugged. “Sore.”

  She nodded and introduced the lion tamers. “This is Winnie and Antonio, and you know Jack.”

  I smiled politely at Winnie and Antonio. Lola poured some red wine into a plastic cup for me and I took it, murmuring my thanks.

  “Hi, everyone,” I said, feeling stupid, mainly due to Jack’s silence. What was his problem? He was flexing and releasing his hand repeatedly, like he wanted to hit something. I took a sip of wine and tried not to look at him anymore. It was difficult, since he was so flipping beautiful, and as an artist I was drawn to memorising beautiful things.

  “Give me your good hand, Lille,” said Marina, interrupting my thoughts.

  I lifted it from my lap, and she took it into her soft, wrinkled fingers. I loved how they felt. Marina had a kind of maternal warmth about her that I’d always longed for in my own mother. And she had a twinkle in her eye that reminded me so much of Gran.

  She smoothed her fingers over my palm. “You’ve got a good distinctive life-line here. See how it’s deeply indented? It indicates a certain quality — you’ll do lots of living.”

  “You read palms?” I asked, even though the answer was blatantly obvious.

  She nodded. “Learned it from my grandmother, the mad old coot.”

  I smiled.

  “How long have you been an artist?” she asked, noting the dried paint stuck under my fingernails.

  “Ever since I was little. Funny coincidence, just like your gran taught you to read palms, my gran taught me how to paint,” I answered. I thought I could sense Jack looking at me then, but since I was determined not to make eye contact with him again, I couldn’t be sure.

  “You should come to France with us,” Marina went on, like it was a perfectly natural continuation of what we’d just been talking about.

  “Um, I don’t….”

  “You can do your face painting with the children. The punters will love it, and you’ll make enough money to live off of. I’ve been meaning to set up something fun for the kids before they come in to see the show. What do you say?”

  “France?” I said, blinking, heart racing. This night was moving way too fast for me. It was confusing.

  “We’re leaving by ferry at nine in the morning, so you’ll have to make a decision soon.”

  “Oh, my God! You have to come,” Lola put in. “I’ve been dying for someone new to hang out with, and Violet’s so bloody annoyed with me all the time. Oh, oh! You could sleep in our camper. We’ve got a spare bed.”

  “Shouldn’t you consult Violet about that first?” said Jack, finally speaking.

  Lola waved him off. “Pffft, she’ll be fine with it so long as Lille doesn’t get in her way.”

  “Violet’s the contortionist?”

  “And just about the crankiest woman ever to grace the earth. Seriously, Lille, you’ll be doing me a huge fa
vour. I’m gonna crack if I don’t get a new roommate soon.”

  I was flabbergasted. “None of you even know me.”

  “Ah, but you’ve got the heart of a traveller,” said Marina. “I can see it in those stormy grey eyes. And that’s good enough for me.”

  “Look at you,” said Lola, wearing the biggest smile I’d ever seen. She was all lips and teeth. “You’re dying to say yes, aren’t you?”

  “Well, I’d have to run it past my mother first,” I said, eyes downcast, and I heard Jack make a sound of derision. “And I have my summer job at the restaurant in town.” Why was I being hesitant? This offer was my hot air balloon ready and waiting to bring me on an adventure, and yet I was making excuses. I think I was just suspicious of the randomness of it all. Plus, the sad fact was that I’d probably have said yes right away if it weren’t for Jack. He clearly didn’t want me around, and I’d just end up feeling awkward every time I saw him. I wasn’t sure how obvious it was to him that I fancied him something rotten. Perhaps that was the reason for his disdain. He didn’t enjoy being ogled by some dumb girl. He probably had a girlfriend. Probably had several.

  “I’m going to go find Violet and ask her what she thinks. She’ll say no, of course, but I’ll talk her around,” said Lola, rising from her seat with a wink.

  “The men are taking down the tent tonight so that we can leave first thing in the morning,” said Marina. “You’d better go home and start packing.”

  “I haven’t agreed to come yet,” I replied.

  She only smiled and pursed her lips, a glint in her eye. “Haven’t you?”

  Winnie gave me an encouraging look, and Antonio told me I’d have a great time if I came. As expected, Jack said nothing. Still, the encouragement of the others spurred me on and I rose, determined to go home and tell Mum I was going to France. I felt like I was walking through a dream. Who makes an offer to some random girl to join their circus? It was crazy, and I was happily drowning in the madness.

  Gran would have been proud. She’d had Mum late in life, and before that she’d travelled the world, met with some amazing people. Even though I was only ten when she passed, she’d already made a powerful impression on me. I wanted to be just like her. She was strong in a way Mum wasn’t, strong through love and kindness rather than cruelty and control.