by Joey W. Hill
Medusa glanced at him. He still had his hand on her elbow and was stroking it, but there was a possessiveness to the grip creating little butterflies in her stomach. She leaned against him to experience more body contact. She had no problem using Merc’s overabundance of pheromones to enjoy the man she wanted to desire. Even if he looked like a brooding thundercloud.
When Merc came in for a landing, Vinnie’s expression was just as John had described. A sun could not have beamed more brightly. Medusa thought of her time on her island. Yes, she had been cursed and isolated, but, thanks to her sisters, she’d had the physical capability to learn how to take care of and defend herself. Vinnie faced a life entirely dependent on others to care for him. She couldn’t imagine how one adjusted one’s thinking to make that a life worth living. But the smile on his face said he had the ability to do just that.
John unstrapped the boy and helped ease him back into his chair. Medusa smiled at him, but then her attention was pulled away by the other children who wanted to fly, too. She waved a fond good-bye to Vinnie when his mother backed him out of the crowd.
Gundar approached from the center ring and motioned to John to get his attention. “If Merc and Medusa have it all under control over there,” he called, “I need another pair of hands in the back.”
John Pierce looked between her and Merc, his expression saying he wasn’t going anywhere. But before he could tell Gundar that, Medusa spoke. “I’ll be fine,” she assured John. Lifting onto her toes, she spoke into his ear, pleased when he bent and wrapped an arm around her waist to help her with that.
“He’s all right now. I promise. And we’re surrounded by plenty of Circus people. I don’t want him to believe I am afraid of him and using you as a shield.”
John frowned, probably because he knew she was right. “Are you afraid of him?”
“No. I have you, as close as the nearest thought.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for helping me do this. I’m so happy I did.”
John’s set jaw eased. “You look almost as happy as Vinnie,” he agreed. “You belong among people.” His expression became more intent. “Remember what I said about you calling me if you need me?”
She did, her skin warming under his look. He bent so his cheek was against hers. “I don’t think I heard you.”
“Yes, Master. I remember.”
He hadn’t asked her to call him that, but something in his voice, his expression, brought it out of her. And truth, that exchange reinforced a lot of things for her, including that she was capable of facing down the Mercs of the world.
John’s gaze flickered in that appealing way that happened when she touched his Dom side so directly. “All right. Don’t forget.”
She watched him stride off, and suppressed a small smile when he tossed a look to Merc that said the incubus’s mortality might be in question. In typical male fashion, the response was a curled lip and a sneer. Then Merc turned his attention to her.
“We doing this?” he asked, gesturing to the next waiting child.
“Yes. Certainly.”
Though she expected Merc could buckle each child into the tandem arrangement, it moved more quickly if she helped. So for the next ten riders, she moved into the shadow of his body and felt his fingers whisper over hers as he guided her on the buckles. Once, his head bent over hers and she felt his breath along her nape, which sent a startling tightening to her loins.
It was his effect on women, she knew that, but it had her thinking of the differences between the two men. Merc was not as broadly muscular as John, but he was still all muscle. The way his hair fell over his brow, the intensity of his eyes, had her wetting her lips and shifting nervously. She didn’t want to recall it, but she did, that moment in the air when he’d told her he could sense her submission like a drug. It made her imagine herself in some of the same positions she’d experienced with John, only with Merc.
During a brief pause where he had to adjust the harness and the children were standing back, waiting, she was close enough to him he could speak in her ear.
“If we were alone, I’d tie you up in this harness. Hold you down and pleasure you until you screamed. I’d make you my slave in all ways and you’d beg for more. You’d never want any clothes on your body so that I could touch you however, whenever I wanted.”
She swayed, closing her eyes. John had said that part of her, the one that wanted to surrender and be bound in ways that were only just now becoming clear in her mind, was intrinsic to who and what she was. But it felt wrong, like this. No matter that she was sure the magical energy Merc commanded as an incubus was fueling her confused response, it felt as if her body was betraying John.
She pushed away from him, giving him a hostile look. “Eating is a necessity for survival. When there is food, you eat. It does not mean you prefer the food put before you.”
“Your scent says otherwise,” he said.
“That is the hunger of the body. Feeding my heart and soul is something different, and you have no interest in that. Thus, I have no interest in you.”
She’d hit a mark there, she saw with mixed satisfaction. She had no desire to hurt anyone, not ever again, but he was being an asshole, as Clara might say. He might not be able to help it, but it didn’t make it any less true.
Thankfully, she saw the signal from Yvette that the show was winding up. She told the disappointed remaining children to be sure to come to a future show. She found herself hopeful that she would be able to participate.
The decision that she would not appear in more than this one show until MyTech was handled was sound. She understood that, but she liked what she’d felt here tonight. And logically, if they were in this town for three days, those who came on the subsequent two nights would expect to see the acts they were told about by their friends and neighbors.
It was foolish to put that consideration over her personal safety, but John was right. She loved this energy, she loved the way she felt as she performed. She loved the children.
She put her hand down, against her stomach. Having her own children was a dream that had disappeared when she’d been given to the temple of Athena. Her opinion about or desire for a family had never been considered, but now she was in a position to wonder, wasn’t she? Was she still fertile? John and she had lain together multiple times. Would she conceive with him? Was that something he would welcome? She’d given it no thought at all up until this second. If it was a possibility…
Her cheeks warmed and that fluttery feeling increased. She would love to carry his child. She would love to have a family and a life with him, particularly in a world like his, where people married for love and were partners, not one owning the other. At least not that way.
She remembered his reaction to her calling him Master and closed her eyes, letting that entirely welcome shiver take her. That was a form of belonging to another that she didn’t mind in the least, because with John it seemed entirely based on her willingness to belong to him, to let him take ownership; not having it taken from her.
Merc disappeared as the children dispersed and people started filing out of the Big Top. This was what Clara had called the “blow off” period, when patrons exiting the show would be engaged by criers on the midway to indulge more concessions, novelties and sideshows like Clara’s fortune telling.
Though she wanted to check out some of those things herself, Medusa first went looking for John Pierce. He’d been called outside, perhaps to help with the shepherding of people outside the Circus boundaries. She didn’t want to interrupt him for long. Just touch his arm and make contact, see his eyes turn to her with the look that said he knew she was his. Perhaps she could win a kiss from his generous mouth and dispel any doubts he might still harbor about their future together. She’d been having less and less of those with every passing day.
As she approached, she realized he was talking to a woman. Medusa slowed, thinking he was providing the woman directions from the Circus or other information, but as she watched t
hem, she thought that was not the case. This woman knew John. Since he’d said they were not far from a place where he’d done some covert ops training, it was possible he’d see someone he knew here. But as she continued watching, that didn’t make her feel better.
The woman was canted toward him in an intimate way, and she was talking earnestly. Her hands were moving, her eyes riveted to his face. Fortunately, Medusa could read nothing in his expression but kind attentiveness. However, though she told herself to stay away, she drew closer, where she could overhear more of the conversation.
She saw a child nearby being entertained by one of the dwarves’ sleight-of-hand tricks, and surmised from the similarity in appearance that she was the woman’s daughter. The woman nodded to John, body language suggesting she was concluding her conversation. And then Medusa heard a snippet of the dialogue.
“Master—I mean, John, it’s good to see you.”
Medusa was jolted to the core, not just by the term, but the tone. The woman’s voice held a hundred emotions, as did her eyes. John may have let this woman go, but she hadn’t wanted to be let go. And she was lovely, in a sweet, gentle way that complemented John in so many ways Medusa lost count of them in her head even on this first, brief glimpse.
She knew logically she wasn’t the first to call him by that honorific that aroused him so greatly. But it still hurt to hear and see it firsthand.
Here she was, dreaming about home and family, children, but how could John truly find that with her in a place like the Circus? Yes, this was home to many of the performers, a place they loved, but John was normal. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t protecting and looking after her. He could have an easy life, with the white stone home she’d imagined in the middle of a simple community, loved by this woman or someone like her. Served by her, because she obviously had the same qualities Medusa did in that regard. It was all over this female, through and through.
Yes, he’d sworn his devotion to her and, as little as an hour ago, she’d believed it, she thought with her whole heart. But the way it felt right now, as if the ground was falling out from under her, made her understand why John had had concerns about her commitment. Though John had thought about her for so many years, and she’d dreamed of him, they’d only known each other for a short time. What if after a certain amount of time, he regretted his declarations of devotion?
She was being an idiot, she knew she was. She knew it. But she couldn’t look away as John spoke to the woman with warmth and gave her a hug that pierced Medusa’s heart. It wasn’t lingering or sexual, but the placement of his hands, low on her hips and around her shoulder blades, said he knew her body.
She felt something she hadn’t felt since they’d walked through the portal into the Circus. That dark rage, simmering, looking for an excuse to break free. It was likely a good thing she was within the Circus’s boundaries; else she might have been tempted to turn the woman to stone before she could kneel before John. Medusa sensed the woman wanted to do just that, so overwhelmingly her knees were probably trembling with the effort not to commit the act in such inappropriately public surroundings.
Medusa pivoted and returned to the Big Top, seeking refuge in an aisle lined on either sides with crates, ready to be repacked with the show’s paraphernalia. She moved to the end of the corridor, massaging her temples and then Waterlight as the snake curved over her knuckles. “It’s all right,” Medusa said. “I’m okay.”
A crawling sensation on the back of her neck followed by an immediate sense of warning from her snakes told her that might not be the case.
Turning, she saw Merc sitting on top of the crates. Watching her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
They were out of anyone’s sight here, yes, but she could hear the roustabouts not far away, already starting to remove some of the scaffolding from the final acts, their voices punctuated by pipes being thrown down into a pile. One scream would bring them here. Do not show fear.
“It’s easy to make things work on a deserted island, isn’t it?” he observed. He’d braced one of his legs against the opposite tower of crates. “Not so easy even in an in-between place like this, where you can see how people will fit together like puzzle pieces. Not with just one other piece, but lots of other pieces, depending on what they need.”
She pressed her lips together and strode with purpose back up the aisle, stopping before his braced leg. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and nothing else, his upper body showing a tapestry of tattooed symbols that enhanced the eye-catching appeal of his muscled upper torso. She kept her eyes on the exit beyond his leg, her goal to reach it and be rid of him.
He put the other leg up behind her, caging her between them unless she wanted to duck beneath.
“You’re looking a little green there, snake-girl,” he said.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, and Ratqueen hissed at him for good measure.
He closed the distance between his legs, his knees brushing her breasts and just beneath her shoulder blades. “It’s hard for one person to meet all your needs. No reason you should have to settle for that. You were on that island a while. Why not sample what else is out there? John knows. That’s why he dislikes me so much. Because I’m a possibility.”
“You’re a troublemaker,” she said bluntly, and felt an annoying swirl in her belly at his smile, far too sexy and dangerous.
“I am that. But I can only make trouble where there’s an opening for it.”
“I suggest you go off somewhere and meet your own needs, Merc, and stop being…you.”
She shoved his leg out of her way, ignoring his chuckle. She took a little too much satisfaction in hearing Earthson strike at him in passing, but then she gasped, yanked to a halt.
In a blink, he was off the crates and had seized Earthson just behind his head. Merc had his other hand up, and she felt an emanation of dizzying magic from his palm that disoriented and held the other snakes at bay.
Her primary concern was Earthson, though. She knew the strength in Merc’s hand. He could crush his spine. The snake was helpless, trying to wriggle free.
“Let him go,” she said sharply. Merc’s eyes glittered with anger.
“He struck at me.”
“On my behalf. Because you were being a bastard.”
“You mocked me and he acted off your disrespect,” Merc retorted. “You may think of me what you will, but I will not tolerate mockery. Do you think I’m so harmless?”
He was far from harmless, but she would not be cowed.
“You hurt him in any way, and I will rip one of your wings off. You’ll fly in circles for the rest of your life.” When the strength of Merc’s grip increased, she curled back a lip. “Yvette told me how to remove the spell on my gaze if I need it. With one word, I will be able to turn you to stone.”
“Yet won’t that turn him to stone as well, the part I’m holding? Is your pride so great you’ll risk his life?”
“My pride?” The wording puzzled her, but he clarified.
“I want evidence of your humility. An apology. And I want you to kneel before me. You will feel the full weight of what mindless pleasure I can inflict upon you with nothing more than a look or touch. I can take you places in your submission that John can only dream about.” He cocked his head. “Kneel, put your lips on my foot, and find out where the consequences of your actions will take you.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The cold voice came from the opening beyond the crates. Relief flooded Medusa as Yvette materialized there, her eyes like shards of glass. “Let the snake go, Merc. Let her go.”
His eyes glinted dangerously, but after several heartbeats, he released the snake and took a deceptively lazy stance, though Medusa sensed some disquiet behind the insolent expression. She slid out of the way, moving behind Yvette and cupping Earthson in her hand, stroking his abused throat. She should probably just go away, not witness whatever Yvette was about to do to him, but curiosity had her lingering.
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“You seek out ways to cause trouble, Merc. Do you truly wish to be banished from our company?” Lady Yvette put a fist on her hip, her long braids sliding over the point of her shoulder.
“I am here at your pleasure, my lady,” he responded in a flat tone. “And for your pleasure, if you are ever brave enough to take it.”
Medusa drew in a breath. Taunting Yvette seemed the height of folly.
“You offer me a soulless whore’s pleasure. Based only on what you will be paid.”
His lip curled, his eyes firing. “You should not debase what you have not experienced.”
“I don’t have to experience a drug to know it will be a moment’s ecstasy only, followed by sorrow and a longing that will never be met, no matter how much of that drug I take. Perhaps you should turn that mirror on yourself. Enough of this. I will not allow your unhappiness to infect this Circus.”
The female vampire moved into the incubus’s immediate space, their gazes inches apart with Yvette wearing tall stilettos. Medusa shifted nervously. She hadn’t wanted to cause trouble, and the air was ripe with violence. She was aware of a pregnant silence in main tent area hidden behind the crates, as if those who couldn’t see them knew a fight was brewing.
But then the tension broke. Merc stepped back a pace and gave her a stiff bow. “I will leave your sight, my lady, since you find it so offensive.”
He pivoted but was brought to a sudden halt by Yvette’s sharp voice. “I believe I told you to kiss my feet. You will do so and then take your leave.”
He turned and stared at her. Menace coated him like a poison, from rigid jaw and gleaming eyes to bared sharp teeth.
Yvette didn’t move. That energy Medusa had felt from her from the beginning built now, surrounding the three of them. She trembled, responding to it as John had told her was instinctive for one of her nature to do. If that command had been leveled at her, and John had reinforced it with his consent, telling her it was his desire to see her lips press the top of Yvette’s fine, arched foot, her knees would already have been on the floor.