Page 52 of Vampire's Choice
“It’s sometimes necessary to lie to those around us. So they do not know our thoughts, our condition. How we feel. You won’t lie to me. Not ever. You’re tired, Ruth. The Trad hurt you.”
“I’m all right. I had some blood. I’ll keep until the show is over.” Yet she was still hungry. Maybe that was what was making her so unwise. One of many reasons. She started to lift a hand toward him.
“I didn’t say yes.” he said quietly. “Keep your hands to yourself. Or I will tie them behind your back.”
“What will you do after you do that?” The growl in her voice was an invitation. Merc leaned in, his wings curving forward. They tempted her to defy him and touch. Maybe he’d clasp her wrist like he’d done earlier. She’d rubbed it before her latest sleep, thinking of that restraint, the heat in his hold.
“I don’t think you’d like what I’d do, little vampire.”
She curled a lip. “You’re calling me that to piss me off.”
“You’re aroused.”
“I can be turned on and angry at the same time. Most times, I prefer it that way.”
Something eased between them, though that only increased the flow of erotic tension, making it nearly unbearable to resist the desire to come further within that wingspan, within reach of his tempting mouth. Tease her fangs against his, prick his mouth, see if he’d score her flesh with his.
“You haven’t had a Master’s firm hand,” he observed, studying her, seeing it all.
“I haven’t had a Master who knows how to handle me.”
She hadn’t had a Master at all, but she wanted to put it out there, what her expectations were.
The red disappeared back into the black, leaving only a mysterious hint of the blood color in his eyes.
Her radio beeped, startling her out of the lock with his gaze. “Fifteen minutes to the finale.” Gundar’s voice. “Line up for Promenade.”
When she looked down to adjust the radio, wings brushed her face and her shoulders. Closing around her body, a cocoon. That was new. Then his hands slid down her back to give her ass a squeeze, so hard it made her gasp and shot arousal to her core.
Then his touch and presence were gone.
He was making a habit of that. She wondered if clipping his wings would help. Next time, she’d bring shears.
The Circus ended as it began, with a dramatic, thundering centaur race around the rings. They blew curved horns, leaped barriers with a flash of decorated hooves, reared high in the air and split the air with shrill, piercing calls that shivered down the audience’s spines. Pholos led them, his fierce expression and brandished spear causing the crowd to draw back then cheer as he passed.
After that, the rest of the performers emerged and paraded along the same track. They strode within reach of the front row of audience members, only the short wall in front of their swinging feet separating them.
Children crowded that barrier, trying to touch sparkly costumes, as well as the unicorns, dogs and horses. The adult dragons perched in the rafters and called out to their young when they swooped too close to the audience, but allowed them to dance in the open space over the rings.
After three clockwise circles, the performers broke into clusters in the rings. Yvette gave the audience permission to come down to meet with them. Her command to do that in an orderly fashion was obeyed, helped by security members like Ruth, positioned to help enforce it.
Some performers had a personal bodyguard. Medusa sat on a tall crate, her snakes wrapped around her arms and neck, one or two poking their heads out from beneath the curtain of her thick curling hair. John Pierce was at her side. While he was kind to the children and curious parents, he projected a firmness that said all ages were expected to be respectful and restrained.
Medusa was good at that herself, encouraging the children to be gentle with the snakes and take turns asking questions. Ruth could see why the performers enjoyed this part. They could share their love of the Circus with the appreciative fans, and interact with the wider world in a way they might not be able to do otherwise.
Yvette understood the value of reminding her troupe they were part of that wider world. That way, nobody forgot how to be civilized. A thought that made Ruth look for Merc.
He and Marcellus were absent, so no flights around the Big Top with the kids. She understood; it had been a crazy night, but she was sorry to miss that. Hopefully she’d get to see it another time.
Yvette was demonstrating her single tail to wide-eyed children. They jumped at the sharp crack, then curiously fingered the fall and popper. The female vampire wasn’t warm and fuzzy like Medusa or Clara, but the children were drawn to her, a fascinating but stern Goddess. When one shyly asked to touch her golden braids, Yvette gave her a measured look, then bent and allowed her a brief touch. Her gaze lifted as if she felt Ruth’s regard, and a slight curve came to her lips, followed by a simple nod.
Approval, reassuring her that she’d done well tonight. But Ruth also saw simmering anger in the vampire female’s gaze. Not at her, but at what had happened.
An hour after the last ticket holder had gone home and the Circus was closed for the night, the briefing happened. Ruth was glad to have experienced the pleasure of the Promenade. As Dollar had predicted, this was the polar opposite to it.
Yvette was pissed. And an angry female vampire sorceress her age was nothing fun to be around. She had no patience for speculation. She wanted the hard facts of what had happened.
Ruth and Dollar provided the information they could. Merc had taken a spot near the back of the acrobat tent where the meeting was convened. As Ruth was speaking her piece, she turned toward him. “I went down the midway while Merc tracked him from the parking lot. He may have more information on what the Trad did during that time period.”