Page 65 of Her Cruel Dahlias

Chapter Thirty

Cricket stood at the edge of the carnival stage, peering out the velvet curtains at Autumn as she performed. Wilder’s flesh was now wooden and resting in pieces beside her. Autumn scrunched her face, pretending to be confused about how to put him back together. The crowd laughed when she attached his hand instead of a foot to his leg. Then she gave a false pout, held up her hands, and shrugged.

Mistress Eliza’s Carnival was now the Carnival of Curiosities, led by Autumn and Wilder. Neither Cricket nor Zephyr had wanted the responsibility on their shoulders—they’d only wanted to perform.

Before leaving Nobel, Cricket and the others had set Mistress Eliza’s caravan on fire, along with Cricket’s own—a funeral of sorts. No one needed a reminder of where Juniper’s body had been found bloody and broken. Juniper and Stormy’s homes remained unoccupied for now.

Cricket’s heart pounded as she glanced out at the large audience once more. This was the first performance where she would show her full curiosity.

Warm lips pressed a soft kiss to her neck, and she leaned into Zephyr’s touch. He lifted her chin toward him. “Breathe. You have your act perfected. Just focus on what makes you happy.”

“I’ll try.” She would give it her all. Tonight’s dance was for Juniper.

Zephyr’s eyes became hooded as he studied her. “If you do well, I’ll reward you after.” A devious grin spread across his handsome face. “But I would do so anyway.”

Cricket mirrored his smile as heat spread through her. “I won’t deny that.”

“Good,” he purred.

Zephyr had finished his turn on stage, his performance more brilliant than ever before. It had been his first one since Juniper’s death, and she could tell with each step, each toss, each thought, that he was doing it for his sister.

Cricket had begun her search for her parents, hoping they would hear that she was a performer at the carnival and find her. Bram and Anika had also promised to send letters to the other cities to see what they could find out.

“Don’t break a leg,” Autumn teased as Wilder wished her luck once they left the stage.

“You’re up,” Zephyr said, his hand drifting down the curve of her hip to her backside, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you trying to make me stay here?” Cricket laughed softly. He chuckled, and she took a deep breath, then stepped forward. And for the first time, she walked onto the stage alone. Her curiosity remained tucked away, not a prickle or stir until she decided to will it.

Two violins played a somber tune, slow and steady, then gradually picked up their pace. She stopped in front of the middle of the stage. Thinking of Zephyr, Anika, Bram, her parents, those she’d lost, and the love they’d brought to her, Cricket lifted her right leg to the ceiling to form a perfectly straight line with her body. She held a hand forward, letting her skin lighten, the bones brightening. The audience gasped in delight, and she lowered her leg, then spun across the stage, doing one swift pirouette after another. Above, two performers unraveled from their hidden white silk fabric that resembled cocoons. They both wore split-colored costumes of white and black while crimson masks adorned their faces.

Cricket honed in on her curiosity, and the rest of her exposed skin became translucent, to where the audience could see her skeleton. At that moment, she was death while she twirled faster, danced harder to the rapid music the bows created against their strings. As she dipped into her curiosity, the prickling crept forth, the roses awakening.

The two female acrobats reached toward her, and she brought her arms up, grasping their hands. They lifted her just as the red roses unfurled from her flesh, proving that death could bring life. The audience roared with applause when her feet touched down once more.

Cricket leapt across the stage, dancing as she never had before, allowing her roses to close and reopen, their petals reaching toward the ceiling. Her limbs seemed to move of their own accord, perfectly in sync with the song. The roses swayed to the melody and fluttered with each motion. Then using a trick she learned recently, Cricket released some of the petals, the music guiding them like magic, showering the awed crowd as they reached to catch them with delight, the remainder floating to the stage in crimson velvet. When the violins slowed, she drew the flowers back beneath her flesh before coming to a whimsical halt and raising her arms to bow to the crowd. Applause filled the tent, and she spun once more until she was away from the audience’s view and behind the curtain.

Two arms caught her by the waist, drawing her to his firm chest. “You were brilliant,” Zephyr said in a gruff voice as he turned her around to face him.

Elation washed over Cricket, and her chest heaved from dancing, but she wasn’t tired enough to not capture his lips with hers. Zephyr deepened the kiss and walked her backward until they were hidden in the costume closet behind the stage. Shutting the door behind them, he pressed her against the wall.

“I think you owe me something,” Cricket said, her voice breathy and not just from her performance. She reached between them and unfastened the button of his trousers, freeing him.

“It seems I do,” Zephyr purred, lifting her so her legs circled his hips. He slid her one-piece to the side and stroked her arousal with his fingers as she tossed her head back. With one exquisite motion, he buried himself inside her heat, making them both moan. She gripped his shoulders as he thrust, as she ground against him. At that moment, she didn’t care if the closet door opened and the curtains fell so that the audience could watch their performance—she just wanted to keep feeling Zephyr.

And then, as if the stage had split in half, pleasure roared through her, and her body writhed. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming his name.

“I think I’ve decided what I want you to owe me,” Zephyr rasped, still trembling with bliss.

“Anything.” She smiled, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Well, maybe not anything.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, gently placing her back onto her feet. “Tell me you love me as much as I love you.”

Her breath caught, and her heart sang at the most beautiful words ever spoken to her. She brought her mouth to his. “That’s too simple. I love you, Zephyr.”

“Mmm, now let me worship you somewhere else properly.” He took her hand and led her out into the night when Autumn ran toward them.

“I have something to tell you. I was with Wilder when we came across something rather interesting,” Autumn started. “Deeper in the south, there’s word of a witch. One who can gift curiosities. Only this witch can do it without bringing someone back from the dead.”