Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

O ver the next week, those pursuing leads, like the Vampire Council and Daegan, had no new developments. And Clara had no new visions.

Maybe the failed kidnapping attempt had sent the bad guys back to the drawing board. Whatever diabolical plan they'd been hatching had been put on the shelf, for now.

"The Trads aren't known for their complicated political strategies," Yvette had pointed out. "And since they'll stab one another in the back in a heartbeat, whoever perceives himself in charge can change just as fast."

In the meantime, it gave Clara a respite, something everyone welcomed, even if the silence was worrisome. Yvette briskly directed everyone, including her fortune-teller, to focus on the upcoming show schedule. They had three-day bookings in four different towns. Circus season was in high gear.

Ruth reveled in the chance to be part of the routine. They were some of the best days she'd had as an adult vampire.

It lacked only in one area. Merc.

The few times she saw him, he was in the company of others, and he made no attempt to change that. So fine. She let him have the space. She wasn't going to chase him.

Which didn't mean he wasn't constantly on her mind, the things they'd shared re-living themselves in her mind, way too often. As a petty act of vengeance—known only to herself—she classified him as the most distracting crush she'd had to date, and refused to treat it as more than that. She excelled at channeling her desires in more useful directions.

Like today. Passing one of the staff workout areas, she saw Caleb, the Circus's "strongman," frowning at a formidable set of weights. Caleb was extraordinarily strong for a human. Rather than have him demonstrate it in the expected ways, Yvette used his strength and perpetually somber manner in the clown skits, in ways that made him an audience favorite.

For instance, in one of them, he leaned against the Big Top's center pole, looking startled when the whole thing began to shake. As he valiantly tried to steady it, the clowns piled on him to help. But when an errant breeze took his cap, spinning it onto a platform far above him, Caleb forgot why the tent had started to shake and started up after it.

Since the implication was that he would bring the tent down by climbing the pole, the clowns used elaborate sign language to stop him, three hanging onto his arms. As he tried to dislodge them, one let out a shrill whistle, making everyone freeze. He pantomimed a comical series of gestures. When Caleb finally understood, he braced himself stoically as one clown after another climbed onto his shoulders. They came up one clown short, all of them making frustrated motions.

That was when Jojo ran out, one of the Circus poodles. He climbed nimbly up the tower of bodies, jumped and grabbed the hat. As he did, he launched himself into the air, inciting audience cries of alarm. Jojo was of course caught in the capable hands of the dog handler, standing in the right spot for that purpose.

The dragons left the poodles alone, no matter how much they looked like sheep, because Yvette had mandated it in her usual warm and fuzzy way. "They're the most reliable performers I have," she informed her staff. "And the cheapest. I'll sacrifice one of you to the dragons first."

The silent act for Caleb wasn't an act. He could speak, but he rarely did unprompted. His communications were mostly reserved courtesies. Ruth detected a deep turbulence in him, one that inspired a desire to soothe. But he kept everything behind a wall, unavailable.

Everyone in the Circus had a story, and protocol said you waited for them to share when they desired to do so. Charlie had noted many were here specifically so they didn't have to.

"Does anyone know them all?" Ruth had asked her.

"Yvette, of course. No one comes into the Circus without her knowing their backstory."

An unsettling thought, one Ruth didn't think about too much.

While she might not have an invitation to solve Caleb's deeper problems, she could maybe assist with his current one. She approached the strongman.

"Can I help?" she asked.

Caleb didn't lift his eyes from the weights. "When Greygirl is okay with it, I can stand beneath her, put my hands on her belly and lift her. Mostly she prefers to wander up to the audience and take offered peanuts. Yvette believes she'll turn the color of a peanut eventually and her name will be confusing."

He was referring to the one elephant in the show, who'd been rescued from a sideshow zoo. Born and raised in captivity, she had health issues that prohibited any rehab and release options. They'd intended to place her at a sanctuary, but she liked the conditions provided for her at the Circus. She wasn't required to be in the show, but she traveled with the troupe. She showed no interest in leaving the Circus grounds, except when they were in the in-between spaces. She explored the green spaces there, usually with a cloud of pixie Fae perched upon her. Or the young dragons.

She contributed to the show in her own way, however, wandering the midway, surprising and delighting the attendees. Trip, her primary caretaker, stayed with her, making sure no one did something unwise, like allow their toddler to sidle close enough to have toes pulverized by Greygirl's feet.

Ruth had been warned Caleb didn't follow a linear track in communication. But from the time he could talk, Adan had had his head up the ass of the universe, firing great cosmic magical questions at it, so she understood what the strongman was saying, half of it in his mind, half of it said aloud.

"You're bored. You want more of a challenge today."

He lifted his gaze and studied her thoughtfully. "Yvette tells me I'm not as strong as a vampire, but she's never arm wrestled me."

Ruth offered a deliberately fangy grin. "That sounds intriguing, but I have a different idea. Game to try it?"

At his nod, she came closer. He wore a workout tank and shorts that did little to hide how startlingly well-endowed he was. The man had a horse's cock. She expected that attribute made him equally popular with the adult-only shows. "Lift me above your head, arms fully extended, me stretched out like a plank."

His gaze covered her. "You weigh far less than I can lift. Even if you have that vampire no-buoyancy thing."

"Wait for it, big guy."

He shrugged. "I'm going to lift you to my shoulder and adjust you from there. Is that all right? Are you afraid of heights?"

Her mind went to her flight with Merc. A big no on that one, but she teased Caleb. "You're tall and strong, but not that tall. And I don't break easily, so I won't be worried about being dropped."

"I won't drop you." He looked appalled that she would think it was a possibility.

"Good." As she put her hand on his shoulder, she noted it twitched under her touch, his eyes going to it.

It surprised her that casual contact outside a performance bothered him, but instinct had her injecting a gentle note to the question. "Is this okay?"

"Yes. Thank you for asking, my lady." His voice was oddly formal.

"Just Ruth." At a flicker of his expression, she amended, "Unless you're more comfortable with my lady ."

He didn't respond to that, but at her nod, he picked her up, shifting her over his shoulders. She crossed her arms over her chest, a la Dracula going to bed in his coffin, as he adjusted his palms beneath her.

"Lift me as high as you can," she directed. "And brace yourself."

Adan had shown her the "trick" after he'd used it to play games of strength with William and Matthew. When she chanted the words and focused the energy, she heard Caleb's surprised grunt. Because she didn't have Adan's abilities or control, and she wasn't a total sadist, she made sure her weight increased gradually.

Showing off, Adan had accelerated his so it was like a piano had been dropped from a great height. He'd enjoyed squashing Matthew beneath him like a bug. Boys. Just like the male pixie Fae and his friends.

She felt a fizzy sensation on her skin, a soda right as it was opened. To Caleb, it would feel like her weight was doubling, tripling, and so on and so forth…

As the obvious strain for his grip and shoulders increased, he braced himself, letting out a breath. A satisfied one. She was giving him the challenge he wanted. She'd crossed her ankles, so he wrapped his fingers around her leg between her closed thighs. His other hand was flat between her shoulder blades.

"When you take a knee, I'll stop," she said.

She heard whistles and catcalls, performers and workers encouraging the show. Caleb answered them by straightening elbows that had started to bend, thrusting her upward in a determined fashion.

"Can you river dance while you do that?" she taunted.

Hearing her joke, two of the clowns, wearing street clothes right now, jumped in on either side of him. They coaxed the serious Caleb into doing the Electric Slide with them. A radio was turned up, the Foundations' "Build Me Up Buttercup."

She noted the telltale quiver of Caleb's arms, a reaction that swept through his body. It was time to dial it back. No matter his strength of will or abilities, he was human, and she didn't want to hurt him. She wasn't going to have Yvette after her for damaging one of her performers.

"Take a knee, Caleb," she said, and murmured the reversal chant so her weight would reduce as gradually as it had increased.

He was reluctant, but no matter his pride, he was as conscious of his responsibility to protect himself as she was. He took the knee carefully, then brought her back to a sitting position on his shoulder, her hand braced on the other slick, bare one, her thumb against his racing pulse.

When she was standing on her own two feet again, Caleb put his hands to her waist and lifted her, verifying she was her normal weight again.

"My brother Adan taught me that spell," she told him. "It's really just a parlor trick."

She'd surprised him enough to gain a brief window into his head. His expression was one she recognized. Now she knew why he preferred her title instead of a first name basis. That, and what he said next.

"Thank you. And if you need blood at any point, my lady…from the vein, you're welcome to take from mine."

He believed as everyone did, that all vampires were dominant. But when it came to the relationship between vampires and humans, she actually had no problem holding that upper hand. Even if she had some troubles with her own issues around the more dominant human servants, like Jacob or Gideon, knowing they were human made it far easier for her to dismiss that feeling and behave as she should. As she did now.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, showing appreciation of the offer. "And if you need help working out again, let me know."

"I just got a delightful skit idea," Buella told him. "You can be holding a barbell above your head while we do a line dance. Audiences love dance routines. As you turn, you could pretend to hit a clown on the head with the barbell, knocking him off his feet?—"

"And we could modify the line dance, make it something people could do sitting down," the clown on his other side said. "Using hands, stomping their feet. Yvette would love it."

Ruth left them discussing the matter. Caleb looked as if his mind was far away from what they were telling him, but she'd seen that same distant look when another complicated routine was being reviewed. On its first run-through, he'd done it perfectly.

Gods create universes while eating spaghetti and reading spy novels.

Adan had said that to her. He'd been absorbed in one of his books while they sat with the bobcat kits in the rehab area. Since she'd been complaining they needed more rabbits on the island, and he hadn't responded, she told him he was ignoring her. He'd continued to read, but he'd picked up a handful of long grasses and woven them through his fingers, a seemingly idle task while studying his text.

A few minutes later, a rabbit made of grass hopped across the ground to her. Adan had put aside his book then and they'd made a game out of trying to get the rabbit to move fast enough to evade the kits.

Adan had eventually allowed them to capture and shred the doppelganger, hunting practice that prepared them for release. But that night, there'd been another one on her dresser in her room. Not animated, but that was okay. The memory would always be animated.

She knew Caleb's gaze followed her as she left them. Thinking of other things she'd noticed about him, she recognized he was a submissive who would serve a Dominant of either gender as a matter of pleasure, and to meet mutual needs, but his preference was male. His attention lingered on acrobats like Nikolai and Karl in their form-fitting costumes with a different intensity, but when they looked in his direction, his gaze cut away.

Had he ever found a male Dom to top him the way he craved? Or did he fear that volcano inside him too much?

She'd been on her way to another smaller workout area for her own training, a spot located near Gundar's smithy, the communal showers and cooking tent. When she started lifting, she used her earbuds and music player to keep her company.

She could easily lift hundred-pound weights, but strength only served her in a fight if she had the right control over it. As she did her reps with that precision, she hummed along to the music. The words made her smile, with a touch of more complicated feelings.

As if summoned, the cause of those feelings arrived to send a shiver across her skin. She tilted her head in Merc's direction as he touched her damp nape, the shell of her ear, and plucked the bud from it.

"What's making you smile?"

She knew he watched her, all the damn time. It had helped her feel somewhat better about him keeping his distance. If he was watching, he wasn't disinterested. Just the opposite.

Lurking was a thing for him. When he wasn't needed for anything, she'd deduced he regularly observed the Circus goings-on from his perches in different unseen spots. It was how he knew so much about so many things.

Putting down the weights, she turned and took the earbud from his hands, brushing his hair with her fingertips as she started to put it in his ear. When he drew back, his expression perplexed, she paused.

"Haven't you worn earbuds before?"

He shook his head.

"Any moral objections to them?"

His lips pursed as he realized he was being teased, but he bent down and let her tuck it into his ear. "Listen to the lyrics," she said. "They remind me of you. That was why I was smiling." While at the same time feeling that sad twist at its potential truth.

As she started the song over, she put her hand on his forearm, half-closing her eyes to listen to Tim McGraw sing through the other bud she'd kept.

Wondering why he acted the way he did, being his own worst enemy, waking up so fighting mad…

"‘Guess it's just the cowboy in me,'" she sang softly. The restlessness, the heart of stone… The smile left her as her hands tightened on him.

Merc listened. By the time the last note finished, he had a faint frown on his face, and an unexpected opinion. "It's you, too."

He cupped his hand behind her neck, drawing her up onto her toes, making everything tighten. Her hands landed on his chest and hip to steady herself. His body twitched under her touch. "How so?" she managed.

"There's not a line I haven't drawn that you haven't crossed."

"That one applies as much to you as to me. Just ask Marcellus and Yvette."

She'd made a mistake. He didn't like being reminded he had a keeper. He let her go and stepped back. Maybe she'd be compounding the mistake with her next question, but fuck it.

"Did you seek me out because you're hungry, and you thought about what I said?"

His expression darkened. "You think that's the only reason I'd come to you?"

"You tell me. I haven't seen you much."

"No." He stepped closer again, though this time he didn't touch her. She wanted him to, and she knew he could tell. He liked making her want. Not to be pointlessly mean. But to be pointedly mean, holding out of reach what was his to decide to give. "But you've felt me, haven't you?"

"Yes." They stared at one another.

"Would you like to sit in one of the places where I watch you?"

At her nod, he slipped an arm around her waist, letting her put hers around his neck. As she did whenever he gave her the opportunity, she played with the short hair there, liking the brush of it against her knuckles. Her eyes half closed in bliss at that lovely lift feeling, the wind from his wings brushing tendrils of her hair back from her brow. A few moments later, they were perched in a longleaf pine located in a cluster of them on the southwestern side of the camp. The tree offered a panoramic view of the Circus compound, the road leading into the small Georgian town nearest them, and the hills it disappeared into. "Wow. Good line of sight."

"One of my jobs is to monitor the area from the high ground."

So not just a lurker. He was a scout and camp guard. Marcellus and Yvette were good at employing their people's strengths.

Merc sat against the trunk, one leg resting along a substantial branch, his other foot braced against another, a triangle of stability. It allowed her to settle on his thigh and prop her feet against his opposite leg. His wings had folded behind him, cushioning his back, the tips trailing down either side of the trunk.

He slid a finger into the V of her T-shirt, tracing her breast above the hold of her bra. "You don't sample human food as much as other vampires do."

"A lot of vampires like the sampling thing. I don't do as much of it, unless it's a formal dinner where the host has prepared something. Don't want to be rude."

"Blood tastes better?"

"Yeah. But I really like certain things, and I can only have a little of them. Having a little can be as bad as having none, if you know what I mean."

He studied her. "Perhaps. What things?"

"Well, Kohana… He was my father's right hand, a second mark who was like a human uncle to me and Adan. He made this stoneground corn bread and added stuff to it. He'd make it for me when I was sad, or to celebrate, or just for the hell of it. He'd cut it into little heart-shaped cubes. He bought the cutter special for me."

She paused, cleared her throat. "After he passed… If I ever sat down to a loaf of it again, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I'd eat all of it, and be sick for days. Which is a moot point, because if he isn't the one making it, it wouldn't be the same."

"Vampires can get sick from human food?"

She gave him a curious look. "How do you not know that? You said you've watched vampires sample food."

"Yes. I didn't know that was why. I assumed it was because vampires simply prefer blood."

He hadn't asked anyone. Did he feel questions made him vulnerable, by exposing ignorance? Or was his focus primarily on the information necessary to safeguard his own survival or respect the boundaries that would keep him from becoming a further target?

He'd already revealed enough about why he didn't want them to know about his visit to the island to suggest his presence here was like being under house arrest. If he wanted to leave Marcellus and the Circus, could he? Or was that death sentence his only other option?

"I'll figure out what other favorites you might have," he decided. "I like the idea of feeding you and leaving you wanting more."

Without warning, he flipped their positions, setting her against the trunk as he stood. His wings spread and he launched himself, rocking the branch. She grabbed at the trunk with a yelp, and gasped as he returned, almost as quickly. When he restored their original position, her perched on his lap between his braced thighs, she shot him a cranky look. "An ‘excuse me, I'll be right back' is more polite than leaving me flailing like a fledgling about to fall out of nest."

Ignoring her complaint, he extended his hand, revealing a tiny square of white cake. "Charlie made these for Maddock. He's coming to visit her tonight, after the show."

"Did you steal one?"

"She's made him plenty. He enjoys them, but it will be her body he wants to sample and devour when he gets here."

"That isn't a no." Ruth gave Merc a severe look, though the cake's aroma was heavenly.

He shrugged. "I want to see you taste something from my hand. Open your mouth."

When he got that tone, that look, her scruples wavered. It was just a bite of cake, after all. She'd apologize to Charlie.

She parted her lips, and he put the cake to them. "Slowly," he said, the look in his eyes intensifying. When she took it on her tongue, she closed her mouth and began to chew, gradually breaking into all the flavors the cake had. A shudder rose from her core because he shifted his hand back to her throat, closing fully around it.

When she swallowed, it was because he allowed it.

After she was done, he didn't ease his hold. He moved his other hand to her hair, taking the clip out of it so her hair fell to her shoulders, straight long strands fluttering around her face and over his forearm. His thumb moved to her lips, then his grip on her neck constricted.

"Vampires don't need to breathe, do they?"

She shook her head. The feeling of not being able to breathe could panic a younger vampire, but she knew how to work through it. Breath was mainly needed to speak, and to add strength to physical effort, but right now he wanted silent submission and held her still.

"Lower your gaze, Ruth."

When she obeyed, the grip tightened further. He had the strength to crush everything he held, but she didn't think he would damage her throat. She let her hands, resting on his abdomen, relax and curl into the waistband of his jeans through the loose T-shirt he wore. This one bore a print of Michael Parkes' famous Gargoyle painting, a child blowing a bubble over the side of a building as the stone gargoyle on its corner burst loose to chase the floating sphere.

"Who gave you this?"

"Clara, some years ago. She was returning from a visit with her friend Alexis, and brought gifts back for everyone. Including me."

The shirt was faded and soft. He wore it often.

He could be such a frustrating mystery; despite that, sometimes she felt she could see inside his soul as easily as her own. She held that thought, her attention moving to his feathers, gleaming black and traces of silver white against a broken pattern of brown bark.

He drew her closer, so her mouth almost touched his. Almost, not quite. "It disappointed you, that I don't kiss women. I'll have to think about that."

His glance moved down, a brow arching. She'd drawn her blade from its hidden scabbard and pushed the point against his abdomen. His lips curved, eyes glinting. "You don't want me to speak of ‘women' in your presence, as if you are one of many."

Quicker than she could follow, he'd grasped her hand with the knife and pressed it under her ear. She drew in a breath as the tip cut several inches above her pounding artery. He leaned in, inhaling her blood with flared nostrils, and sampled it with his clever, teasing tongue. She moaned, a futile oath on her lips as he took her blood into him.

What if she had given him the first mark the other night, when she'd bitten him? She had no idea if that would even take on Merc's incubus and angel blood, though Catriona had accepted all three marks from Adan. She had some human blood, though.

The bond meant a lot of deeper things than what it seemed on the surface. But it was an absurd, crazy thought. One she should put away. Merc was definitely not servant material.

Merc eased back. "I get what you mean, about the more you take, the more you want."

He slid the knife into the scabbard, his touch intimate. Firm. "If you draw that against me again, I'll put it inside you. You'll have to hold still so it doesn't cut you more deeply than the shallow cuts I'll make upon the first thrust, so I can taste your blood and your cunt at the same time."

She managed to link a bland look to her hard quiver, a look that promised nothing. But she did settle her feet anew against his thigh and clasp her hands around her knees.

"Gideon said you were found in the Russian wilderness."

She wasn't sure how sensitive he'd be about it. Fortunately Merc seemed unconcerned, but he was also disinterested in the topic. He twitched the cord of her earbuds. "Let me listen to more music you like."

Ruth knew he'd once participated in Circus performances, before moving more fully into the security end of the Circus. He and Medusa had even had a flight sequence together, when Medusa and JP had first arrived. Merc had helped choose more instrumental pieces as a score for it. But had he never dipped his toe into pop culture, modern music, TV? The Trads viewed it with contempt, feeling vampires should be wholly savage. She wondered if it was like that for Merc. Had it been easier to be savage and objectify the world that didn't want him?

He'd said his incubus nature fought his angel side. Was it a choice, him purposefully avoiding exploring that side of himself, for whatever reason?

"You threaten me with my knife again, I'll knock you out of this tree," she told him.

"You can try. I'm not worried about the fall." His lip curled. "Wasn't that also in the song? We don't worry about the fall… ‘because of the cowboy in us all?'"

Lady Yvette leaned against the pillar outside her yurt. Small metal squares covered the wood. Each one represented a troupe member. When they were fully accepted as part of the Circus family, he or she could add their seal to the post, telling Gundar what they wanted on it. He was as accomplished with metal engraving as he was crafting weapons.

When it was put in place, she wove its energy with the others, pulling that member even deeper into the bonds of the Circus.

Only one long-term resident had never gone through that ritual. He didn't see himself as part of them. Many of the Circus members didn't see him that way, either. Though it had been some time since Merc had fully broken the parameters that allowed him to be here, Yvette had never issued the invitation. An essential ingredient had always been missing. For both of them.

Trust.

As she absorbed the camp activity, she confirmed all was well. A usually pleasurable task, drinking in the emotions. Excitement, flirting, friendship. The good kind of weariness. Effort and concentration, as someone practiced their Circus skills. Sexual pleasure, mostly explored inside the RVs, since they weren't inside a portal space. Amiable competition at card games, or companionship over meals.

Her scan paused over the silhouette of the pine tree grove at the far end of their encampment. Eavesdropping wasn't part of this, unless it was warranted. It was the energy that came to her that held her focus.

She opened her mind to share what she was experiencing with Gundar. He stood by her side, "listening," arms crossed over his chest. She touched his shoulder, his neck, tracing the artery with a sharp nail. Felt the pump of reaction.

He didn't move, though he was ready for her command. If she wanted blood and his body, he would go into the yurt and wait by her bed. When she bid him do so, he would get up onto it and prop his back upon the pillows, his boots courteously left on the floor.

She would lie in the curve of his strong arm—those who thought length mattered in the estimation of that were incorrect—put her mouth to his throat and sink in. Her Dom servant liked her to give him pain, not be gentle. Unlike Charlie, whom she treated like an egg when she drew blood from the slim healer.

People's differences held their secrets. Yvette's attention turned toward Maddock. The sorcerer sat on a chair he'd brought out of Yvette's yurt, to enjoy the night air. He'd remained quiet while she did her status check, but he had a distraction. Charlie knelt at his feet, leaning against his leg. His hand was in her hair, his thumb teasing the bra strap on her shoulder, bared by the scooped neckline of her dress.

Some of Yvette's second marks, like Dollar, were marked merely for operational needs, to provide the close communication Yvette required. Charlie and Gundar were different. She fed from them, and they shared her bed when she had that desire. Both carried a symbol of that more intimate commitment, a ruby that reflected the red hues in the Circus logo. Charlie, wore it on a necklace that nestled between her collar bones, whereas Gundar wore it worked into the metalcraft of his belt buckle.

When Maddock was here, Charlie was his. Volatile negotiations over the years had worked that out between them. Yvette still reserved the right to revoke his privileges when he was an idiot. Well, specifically related to his behavior toward Charlie, since Maddock was generally an idiot. Even if he was an outstanding sorcerer and a friend.

"It's like a courtship between two wild animals," Maddock said. His gaze was trained in the same direction as hers. "The male bringing the female prizes while displaying plumage. In this case, stealing my cake and showing off those panty-dropping wings. Should have spelled the food to zap his fingers."

"I can make more," Charlie assured him, propping her chin on his knee, amusement in her voice. "I think it's sweet."

"Yeah. Merc being sweet. That trips my freak-o-meter right off the charts."

"Ruth is a different experience for Merc," Yvette noted thoughtfully. "Though she has no physical advantages over him, she's not afraid of him, like most females are, unless he uses his compulsion abilities to draw them in."

"You're not afraid of him," Maddock pointed out.

"I'm a Dominant."

Maddock's expression flickered with surprise, but before he could ask the question, an annoyed male voice intervened.

"I thought I made it clear that Merc playing with my sister isn't a good idea."

Adan strode around the curve of Yvette's yurt. He'd been working on a minor glitch to the protection spell for the Big Top. Maddock could have fixed it, too, but Adan was Yvette's backup for problems Maddock might not be available to resolve. She liked giving both males the opportunity to stay familiar with Circus magic.

"You knew he was close enough to hear," Maddock observed.

"It's best we have this out." Yvette gave Adan an impatient look. "You told me your opinion. I didn't say I was going to act on it. You could see what was happening at the sparring match. It's not just him playing with her. She's playing with him."

"But we understand your concern," Charlie put in before the two vampires—one a sorceress and one a Light Guardian—could get snappish and put body parts and inanimate objects at risk. "My lady is letting things take their natural course, but keeping an eye on things for the same reason it concerns you. To make sure he doesn't harm her."

Maddock gestured the tense Adan to another chair he'd brought out. "You know your sister better than any of us. You know she's tough."

"Yeah, but not always tough enough. When we were growing up, she let me take the lead, but she was right there at my side, ready to provide back up with a ferocity that rabid badgers wish they had. If someone tries to corner her, no matter how strong they are, she'll fight." His jaw flexed. "She won't win. She'll get bloody. And even if she knows her opponent can kill her, she won't back down."

"It makes you afraid for her, even as you wouldn't want her to be any other way," Maddock said.

"Letting fear rule you destroys everything you hope for yourself," Adan said. "So, yeah. Doesn't mean I want to throw her in the path of danger."

Yvette glanced toward the pines. "This is the Circus, Adan. The rules here are different than in the vampire world, as much as I can manage it. It's a large part of why she's here, right?"

When her golden eyes came back to him, his expression had shuttered. "Yes."

"Merc's incubus side was in control from the beginning, because demon blood doesn't miss an opportunity to take the lead, particularly if nothing else is nurtured," Maddock noted. At Adan's censorious look, he raised a quelling hand. "However, Marcellus has often believed the angel is stronger within Merc than Merc has accessed. Over the years, he's encouraged him to explore that. With how much success, it's hard to determine. Merc doesn't reveal much."

Charlie lifted her head from Maddock's thigh. He shifted his hand to her back, tracing the bumps of her spine under her thin shirt. "Most people's energy changes as they interact with others," she said. "Over the years, his has always gone opaque around Yvette, Marcellus and Maddock. As Maddock says, there may be a great deal going on behind it, but the impression is he's being what he's required to be, to stay alive. What lies behind the wall… My gut says something has changed for him, these past few years, but I'm not sure."

"Have you noticed what his energy and auras are like around Ruth?" Yvette asked.

A slight smile touched Charlie's face. "Chaotic. A little frightening, but beautiful too, like a storm. I don't think he knows what to make of her, but she brings out the Master in him, something I've never seen him overtly exercise, though it's always been there."

"Really?" Maddock tugged her hair. "You've never mentioned that to me. How do you know?"

She shrugged. "How does any submissive know? We feel it, from the way you conduct yourself, the way you talk and act. Even though he's suppressed it, it's there."

Maddock glanced between Adan and Yvette. "Is that what all the subtext between you and Adan is about? You're saying Ruth is a natural submissive?"

"Goddess help us, he finally catches up," Yvette murmured, shooting him a look.

"Give me a break. I'm not around here as much as I'd like to be." His glance went to Charlie, lingered. Then he glanced at Adan, who had stiffened. He locked gazes with the wizard.

Maddock rose, his respect for the other male evident in the formal gesture. His hand stayed on Charlie's shoulder, conveying his understanding of the drive to protect and care for one he loved. "What's discussed here goes no further, Adan. You have my word."

"Marcellus is already aware," Yvette added. "He and I have discussed the need for discretion. He knew the first time he met her." She arched a pointed brow at Maddock. "How can such a smart male be so clueless?"

"I will put lice in your mattress."

"I will remove your testicles with barely a thought."

Charlie interjected a distracting thought, still aimed at reassuring Adan's concerns. "Merc isn't a vampire, and he's far stronger than one. In terms of your world's acceptance of the situation, doesn't that help?"

"Yes and no. It has to do with her, not him. A vampire capitulating to a stronger being because they're stronger is an accepted part of our natural order. A vampire wanting to be topped, wanting to submit, isn't."

"Your concern is if it gets revealed by her relationship with Merc, but the relationship ends…"

"She's been outted," Adan said tersely.

"She has allies here already." Charlie accepted Maddock's hand to stand at his side. "We'll do all we can to protect her, Adan. The same as we do for all the Circus family."

Yvette met Adan's gaze. "She's already proven herself willing to work hard and be a contributing member of this troupe. She's a good fit. We recognized what she is, Adan, because we're all misfits here. Aren't we?"

Adan couldn't summon a smile, but he inclined his head. "She's…she's in my soul, my lady. Don't hide anything from me that will help me protect her."

"I have not and will not. But I will respect her independence. As you and your father have done, by facilitating her job here. Life is not safe, Adan. Not if you're doing it right."

"Yeah." After a silent moment, Adan nodded to the Circus Mistress. "Glitch is fixed. Let me know if you have any other problems. With anything."

When he strode away, Maddock looked at Yvette. "I'm not sure we helped."

"Because he knows the vampire world too well," Yvette said, her expression grim. "But my primary concern is Merc. To have a submissive female trust him, not afraid, curious, willing to play and test him, is entirely new. It remains to be seen how he will handle that." She glanced toward Charlie. "And what will be revealed behind that wall."

"Motown is a treasure chest," Ruth told Merc. "The Temptations, the Supremes, the Jackson 5..."

They'd been in the tree for an hour, sharing music through her earbuds. "‘I'm gonna make you love me,'" she sang. "I like the part where he says he's going to shower her with love and affection. I used to tease my brother with that song when he claimed to like me less than shoveling cat dung. Mum liked that song. When it first came out and was always on the radio, she and Da would dance to it."

She swung her feet, brushing her bare toes through the trailing ends of his feathers. She'd toed off her shoes and let them drop down to the forest floor. "Do you sing?" she asked him. "Dance? Tap your feet?"

So far, he hadn't engaged that way with the music, but his eyes flickered with intrigue on every song she chose.

He touched her mouth, sending a shimmer of pleasure through her lips. "Play another."

"Okay." She already knew which one she wanted, and scrolled through her vast library for it. "But you have to answer another question for me. Do female and male sex demons mate?"

"I haven't spent much time with my kind, but what I know is they breed, but rarely mate. The sexual hunger, the drive to feed, isn't conducive to permanent attachments."

"But you belong to another race as well. How about angel kind?"

"I don't feel I'm part of that race. Not enough to be influenced by it." He assumed an impassive look she was starting to suspect was a cover, when his answer wasn't entirely true, or didn't cover all the relevant information.

She didn't press him on it. "Most vampires don't mate with other vampires, either. Hard to commit to someone for that long. Some might be together for a few decades or even a century, but then they'll go their separate ways. Sometimes they get back together, years later, but not that often."

She paused. "The longest continuous relationship in a vampire's life is usually with their third marked human servant. Servants live for three hundred years, and the vampire holds all the power, in theory."

"In theory?"

"My father is my mother's Master, but he'd do pretty much anything for her happiness and wellbeing." Her gaze shadowed. "My world has requirements that sometimes don't gel with what you'd prefer your priorities to be. So you have to fight for whatever space you can give them, if that makes sense."

She frowned. "I think it's hard for vampires to fully trust one another. Their nature is either to fight for dominance, or look for the opportunities to take control. With servants, there's more room for that trust to develop, because a third mark is a full soul bond. There's nothing they can hide from their vampire. Oh, this is a good one."

Removing her own earbud and putting both in his ears—giving her the chance to incidentally stroke his hair and brush her fingertips along his sexily stubbled jaw—she stood up on the branch to dance. She could pick up enough of the beat through her vampire hearing. She gave the song the full hip action treatment, incorporating a hairbrush move as she rocked down to her heels and back up again. "‘There's nothing holding me back…' Shawn Mendez. It's hard not to dance to this one. Listen to the lyrics."

He was obviously doing that, while watching her in a way that had her skin prickling with heat. She spun to the drumbeat, working around his outstretched leg. Then he held out a hand and she took it. He rose, put one earbud back in her ear…and launched them.

She wondered how Shawn would feel if he could have the chance to spin through the sky and clouds to the upbeat drum beat and guitar plucking in the song.

Nothing holding me back…

Merc gave her that feeling. When he landed at the base of the tree, she was breathless, laughing. She'd noted he hadn't smiled, not once. When they'd started the music marathon, he'd told her he wanted her to talk and act how she would if he was actively engaging with her—without him actually doing so.

At first, she thought it would feel like she was on a stage, but she'd realized how much it pleased him, not needing to give her anything…but his absolute attention.

She leaned against the trunk and looked up at him. He had his wing curved over his shoulder, close to her right side. She stopped herself from touching it, because it was different from brushing her feet against the trailing wing tips. He projected a certain reserve when he wanted her to ask permission to do it.

"Since we don't have a performance tonight, a few of the troupe are going into town," she said. "There's a club with live music. If you're not interested, we could explore a couple parks I heard about. One has a waterfall. If you don't mind flying us there, so we can get in after closing."

"You prefer to be with me rather than going with them?"

"Well, yeah."

"Because I can give you powerful orgasms."

"Don't be a jerk. Because I want to spend more time with you. Isn't that why you're with me right now?" She shrugged. "The orgasms are a nice bonus."

"I might join you in town," he said. "I have some other things to handle for Marcellus first."

She noted a tight look around his mouth, suggesting a problem, but the look also said he didn't want to talk about it. "Okay. But you might miss karaoke."

After she explained what that was, his look of horror had her stifling a giggle. "What? Can't sing?" she asked.

Her smile faded as he put his hand to her mouth again, tracing the shape. "You say you don't kiss, but everything about you says you might like to try it," she whispered. She thought about lifting on her toes, just that slight amount to close the distance, but he put a hand on her shoulder.

"No," he said. "And don't let Caleb touch you again. I don't like it."

Then he was gone, leaving her blinking with shock.