by Joey W. Hill
Though Merc had a different nature, Medusa sensed a yearning in him, as if some part of him hungered to do as Yvette commanded. But in a heartbeat, those emotions vanished, caught in an ugly maelstrom of dense energy that multiplied the fearsome things she saw in his face. The temperature around them dropped, and she thought she detected an actual tremor through the ground beneath her feet.
All those things compelled her to step to Yvette’s side. The phrase to awaken her snakes was not the only spell breaker Yvette had given her. Proving that Medusa had earned the vampire’s trust, Yvette had also provided her the words needed to remove the neutralized effect of her eyes, should she have justified need for the weapon.
Yvette was powerful, yes, but what was coming off the incubus was even more so. Medusa realized the only thing stronger than Merc was probably Marcellus, and Marcellus wasn’t here right now. She would not let Yvette be harmed.
Yvette’s gaze flickered, acknowledging her presence, but she didn’t take her eyes off Merc.
He moved toward the two women. One step, two steps. Medusa’s lips parted to speak the words, a cold knot forming in her stomach. But before she could utter the phrase, Merc dropped to a knee before Yvette.
He did it with an insolent flourish of his wings and muscular arm, like a courtier flipping his cape. He bent from that position to her foot, and put his mouth to it.
Yvette suffered his touch for one long moment, staring down at the curve of his back, the symbols tattooed upon it. Then she kicked him in the face with the other boot, sending him tumbling backwards and slamming into the crates. The force of the impact knocked over four towers of them, sending them tumbling and revealing a knot of gaping roustabouts in the left side ring.
Medusa gasped. He was on his feet in an instant, though he should have had broken limbs with the force Yvette had used. But he was part angel, and Clara had said Marcellus was almost invincible.
They could bleed, though. Merc wiped some off his lip, baring his teeth at Yvette. “My lady, I trust you are now content to have me out of your sight?”
“Eminently so.”
He took flight. As soon as he was gone, Yvette’s shoulders lifted as if she’d sighed.
“I appreciate your assistance, young one. However foolish it might have been for you to step into the middle of that fight. He has enough angel blood he could have killed me with little effort.”
“Which is why I am here,” Marcellus said, stepping out from the shadows. “You taunt him too much, Lady Yvette.”
“It isn’t taunting. It is teaching. And I would not have called you into a fight I started, my lord.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. But this Circus cannot be leaderless.” His serious lips didn’t curve, but there was respect in his eyes. “Clara is very fond of you. She thinks of you as a beloved aunt.”
Yvette snorted. “Auntie Yvette. Merc is in a tough spot, Marcellus. You and I both know this. He has nowhere to go. If he leaves our sanctuary, a Light Guardian is waiting to dispatch him for his crimes.”
“Still, it is dangerous to assume self-preservation always trumps his darker side. He might be looking for a way to take away all choices. Suicide through violence gives him final release from all his failings.”
Yvette turned and met the angel’s gaze, her own thoughtful. “I hope we are only speaking of Merc’s state of mind, my lord. I am not the only one precious to Clara. She waits only for you to realize it, though patience is not her strongest quality. I expect she will continue to try and force your hand, Goddess bless her.”
A muscle jumped in Marcellus’s jaw. “She is a foolish girl.”
“No. She is a woman, and one in love with you.”
He made a dismissive motion, his expression suggesting he would not tolerate the subject further. Respecting it, Yvette gave him a slight bow. “My thanks again for your assistance, my lord. If you do not mind, I would speak to Medusa alone.”
He left them, headed in the same direction as Merc. Medusa wondered how that conversation was going to go, since she had no doubt Marcellus would be having a serious discussion with Merc about his temperament. She wondered if it would do any good or if Yvette was right. Medusa uncomfortably remembered times where she halfway hoped one of her attacker’s arrows would find her and send her into oblivion.
“I am sorry for whatever part I caused in that, my lady,” she said.
“You have no reason to be sorry. You did not invite him to antagonize you.”
“But I spoke unkindly to him. Earthson struck at him as a result of my temper.” She stroked the snake, who was in a spiral on her shoulder.
“He provoked first. But that isn’t why you are still here with me now. You have other issues to resolve.”
“My lady?”
Yvette raised her voice. “Your snake-girl seems to think you would be better off with a fully human submissive in the nice picket fence world that knows nothing of any of this.”
“Is that so?” John was standing beside several stacks of still standing crates. Medusa had been so focused on Yvette she hadn’t seen his arrival.
His tone sent a shiver through her, and the expression he leveled on her now hadn’t been on his face when he looked at that other woman. Her gladness about that warred with her worry that the words Yvette had spoken were truth. But how had the vampire known Medusa’s feelings? The vampire seemed to have not only eyes and ears everywhere, but ways of plumbing people’s feelings in a very unsettling way.
“Be mindful of whom you talk to, John.” Yvette looked at Medusa. “I appreciate your willingness to come to my defense. I respect bravery and loyalty. It will not be forgotten.”
When the vampire took her leave, John snagged Medusa’s wrist and drew her over to another alcove of crates, away from the eyes of those working in the main tent. She found herself bracketed against the crates by two long arms that were far more welcome than Merc’s legs.
“So you saw me with Susan. What’s going through your head?”
It sounded so much better on his lips than Merc’s. She realized the incubus’s mocking use of the endearment was what had launched her unwise challenge to him. Seeing John Pierce with the other woman had made her think of a time when she might not be with him, when she couldn’t hear him call her snake-girl. Yet if he would truly be happier, she couldn’t stand in his way. He was her protector, yes, but she was not helpless, not even in this world that wasn’t her own.
“I have been so focused on my own choices, and I have never questioned yours,” she said slowly. “You spoke of this, how our understanding of one another’s lives, empathy, is not enough to create a permanent bond. Am I penance, reward or escape? Are you so sure I am love?”
His brow creased. “Wait just a minute—”
She raised a hand. “You rescued me. You came to me, brought me to a place where my life can have more possibilities. You have helped me see I have as many choices as I am willing and brave enough to grasp. There is no reason you must stay with me now. I no longer need you to...serve me. You deserve an easier life. A happier life.”
He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Though the posture was more casual, she didn’t miss the set of his jaw, the muscle tic in it. “Easier doesn’t mean better or happier, Medusa. There were a lot of women I enjoyed before I met Maddock, but none made it through to my heart. He helped me realize the dream I’d always had of you could become a reality. But it wasn’t until I landed on your island and met you I knew that it could become better than that dream times a thousand. I told you all of that. It’s still true, in every way.”
She closed her eyes as he leaned in and brushed his lips against her temple. “So stop this shit,” he said softly.
She put her palms down against the crates, clasping the slats so she wouldn’t reach for him. “But the way she looked at you…”
“She has a thing for a strong-handed Master, because she hasn’t found the right one for her,” he said with a touch of imp
atience. “We had a good thing, but she was well in my past when I started on the path that led me to you.”
“She called you Master.” It burst out of her in such a spiked ball of anger, she made Earthson start and hiss, looking around for another foe to fight.
He stared down at her, then his lips curved. As she nervously began to lift her hands to push him away, he shook his head. “Leave them where they are.”
He ran a thumb over her lips, which parted at his touch, then tested the elevated pulse in her throat with another stroke there. “So responsive,” he murmured. A shadow crossed his gaze and he straightened. “When I was watching you fly with Merc tonight, Yvette said something to me. ‘Medusa will serve any Master or Mistress worth serving.’ She meant it as a comfort, suggesting you would be cared for here, even if I wasn’t your ultimate choice.”
The shock of the words took away any voice she had to respond. For three blinks. Then she found them. As well as an overflowing cup of anger.
“Yvette should realize that I am not Charlie,” she said hotly. “And so should you. I thought you weren’t Merc, but perhaps I was wrong about that.”
If she’d suddenly sprouted an extra pair of wings, she could not have startled him more. She saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by a flash of dangerous annoyance. Good.
“He thinks he is just as suited to meeting my needs as you, because he only sees the desires of the body.”
“Medusa—”
“No.” She pushed past him so she was on the outside of the aisle of crates, so she could leave when she was damn good and ready, as Clara might say. He didn’t stop her, but his hand curled around her forearm as if he thought she was about to take off. She had plenty to say first, though.
“Yes, I might serve any Master or Mistress worth serving. I obeyed and served the senior priestesses of the temple. I served Athena, my Goddess. I will give my loyalty and service in that capacity because yes, that is who I am. Loving a Master is different.”
She could feel the heat in her face, and realized her hands were clenched. “I may be younger than you by a significant amount of years, but I am not so indiscriminate in my choices. You chide me for forgetting what you have told me of your desires, but you have forgotten things I have said to you as well. So let me remind you.”
His expression flickered, perhaps because she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. “You came for me. You understood my hurts, my needs. You have fought and lost in your life, John Pierce. You have stumbled and made mistakes that give you nightmares. You were willing to give up your life and serve me in an unexpected way only a Master understands.”
She remembered those moments of branding possession, him taking her body so decisively it felt as if he’d taken her soul and heart at the same time. Mine. No one else’s.
She hadn’t known how to respond to that then, but she did now. This required a different kind of courage than what Yvette had just commended, but it was courage nonetheless. Stepping back up to him, she put her hands on his shoulders and neck and went onto her toes. “Mine,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. “No one else’s. Until you ask to be set free, John Pierce. You serve me, do you not?”
The fire in his serious eyes kindled into a different kind of heat. But then it was banked, replaced by another emotion. Chagrin. “I apologize,” he said quietly, resting his hands on her hips. “You’re right. But I think I just made my point, didn’t I? Doesn’t matter who called me Master before; not if I’ve found the one I want to call me Master forever.”
She opened her mouth, closed it. His expression reflected a combination of amusement, exasperation, and some deeper emotions, ones that they shared enough to bring things back together now.
“Just as that solitude I had on my island may not have given me many options to explore,” she said. “But it did provide ample time to think about the qualities I would most desire in a man. You fit most of them, John Pierce.”
“Most of them, hmm?”
She sniffed. “There is always room for improvement.”
“Not for you. I like you just fine the way you are. Head to toe, heart and soul. And your beautiful, clever mind, which just put me right in my place.”
She had enough woman’s pride not to reveal he’d done the same. But she placed his palm over her heart. “It is right here. And you have rested there for quite some time.”
His gaze softened and he shifted both hands to her shoulders. He considered her for a long, thorough moment.
“So that’s it, then,” he said at last. It was almost as if he was speaking to himself. He met her eyes, though, tying her into his one-sided conversation. “We’re done second guessing ourselves and ignoring what we want so much for fear it’s not real.”
She let out a relieved breath. “That is my wish as well. And—”
His kiss took her under and left her knees weak, but his urgency that robbed her of further words said she wasn’t the only one affected. She curled her hands in his shirt, holding on, kissing him just as passionately, her body pressed as close to his as was possible without merging into one being. And that didn’t sound like a bad fate to her, either.
Lifting his head after a blissful length of time, he pinned her with that penetrating stare once more. “Glad we got that settled. Though I think I should reinforce it some, preferably in a way that will give you trouble walking. I don’t want you to ever worry again when you see me with another woman.”
“And I will endeavor in my surrender to your demands to convince you that you never need worry about me around the likes of Merc.”
“Or Gundar, or Marcellus, or Maddock, or any other male.”
She smiled, then let out a startled gasp as he claimed her mouth again. This time he took over, clamping a bruising hand on her buttock and lifting her up to pin her against the crates. “You better brace yourself for the consequences of pissing me off, sweetheart,” he muttered against her mouth. “Penance, my ass. Comparing me to Merc?”
He was holding his body solidly against hers, letting her feel his need to imprint the conclusion of their conversation on her right here and now. Her body yielded as she drew him closer, locking her legs around him. She wanted the same thing, to purge that woman’s voice from her mind, to make sure she was the only one imprinted upon his soul, from now forward.
The call of another voice was distant, irritating, but when he lifted his head, she realized it was Marcellus, probably looking for John to help with whatever security tasks were left for the night. He bit back a curse.
“I’ll take it on account,” he promised her in a rough voice she loved.
“All right.” She was breathless as he eased her down to the ground.
He held her tightly for an extra moment before reluctantly leading her out of the Big Top and the forest of crates and onto the midway again. The crowds were thinning out. “You stay out of dark corners unless you’re with me,” he ordered. His expression eased and he stroked a lock of hair from her face. “I love you, snake-girl.”
“I love you, too.” It was easy to say it after all, even more so when the smile he gave her lit up her heart brighter than the flood lighting in the parking lot.
“See you in a bit. I expect they just need some help with traffic flow in the parking lot.”
She watched him stride away. Other women watched him with a feminine pleasure she fully understood, but this time, instead of feeling the unpleasant bite of jealousy, she embraced something far better.
He was all hers, and she was his. It was a wonderful, complete feeling. In this moment, standing on a circus midway under a crescent moon, she was perhaps closer to happiness than she’d been since her earliest days in Athena’s temple.
Passing a fingertip over her lips, she savored the lingering tingle that John’s mouth had left on hers. Tonight, they would be back inside the portal. Perhaps they’d take a blanket out into one of the meadows and lay under the stars to make love. Sleep there and be woken by the sunrise,
the sounds of dragons and hawks, the thunder of centaur hooves.
As she circled around to the back entrance of the Big Top, she smiled. She’d find Charlie and return this outfit to her, then help her however would be most needed. It would make the time go even faster until she could be in his arms again.
She felt a twinge of guilt at using Charlie as an example to prove her point to John. Charlie’s heart seemed to be halfway into Maddock’s keeping, but she served Yvette, suggesting service drove her more than personal preferences. Yet Medusa hadn’t known the woman long enough to understand what drove her. She would tell John the same later. She didn’t want him to think she had a bad opinion of the dressmaker. Though John being John, he probably knew she’d made the careless remark in the heat of her anger.
She thought of John’s promise of future retribution and what that could mean. Erotic longing passed through her every limb, reflected in her increased heartbeat.
It was obscene to have all that she was feeling interrupted by a cold shot of fear. The feeling was a premonition, instincts honed by years of fighting for her survival. Unfortunately, it happened only a blink before hard hands closed on her and jerked her out of sight.
The roustabouts coming and going out of the back doors of the Big Top never saw her disappear.
She was pulled behind a storage trailer. As she opened her mouth to scream, a gag was shoved in her mouth and a bag yanked over her head. The bag was cinched tightly around her neck, a frightening restriction of air as her snakes were contained. Rope was wrapped around her torso swiftly, disabling her wings. Then she was tossed in the back of a vehicle.
The rough hands never left her, taking away any opportunity to fight. Ratqueen was hissing and Treebark was striking at the burlap covering them, his muscular body hitting her jaw and face.
Her assailants flipped her and bound her wrists and ankles, connecting them to one another so she was toppled on her side, which increased her terrifying helplessness.