Circus Save Me Page 3

  I barely register a whistle through the air before a crack of what feels like lightning strikes my back. My back arches and my head is thrown back in agony; tears filling my eyes as a silent cry leaves my lips. I start panting, the skin on my back screaming at the harsh movements, my body's natural instincts trying to take over. To protect me, to defend.

  It takes every ounce of my strength to stop my body from changing; from revealing to the watching crowd that I am different from them. The power that I have kept hidden since I discovered it when I was just a girl, could make my already difficult life, hell. Those that were ‘altered’ are not trusted; often hunted and experimented on. For me to be different, and a woman, is bad news.

  Every cell in my body fights to protect me, trying to harden to granite to prevent the belt from splitting my delicate skin. My panting increases, I don’t even want to contemplate what they would do to me if they discover my power. I pinch my eyes closed, focusing on keeping my skin normal in appearance.

  My silent battle ends as the belt hits my skin once more. I cry out, my voice ragged, and I feel my skin ripple across my back as I lose control. What feels like scales run across my back in a wave, before I force it away. In my panic and pain, I turn to granite, becoming a human statue. I hear a gasp run through the crowd, along with angry shouts and heckles.

  “Freak!”

  “Burn the witch!”

  “Kill the slut!”

  The noises around me get louder and I’m aware of the sounds of fighting. I guess people are trying to get to me before Frederick is done with me. He will be furious that I have kept this hidden from him for years. The thought is bittersweet.

  “I knew it.” His raspy voice causes me to open my eyes.

  He has a satisfied look on his face, which was not what I had expected from him. My head reels and I take in the scene around me. Men are fighting each other in the crowd as Frederick turns his back on me, his men gathering around him.

  “Get in there, you idiots!” He demands. His lackeys throw him a look before jumping into the fray. I lean my head on the pole, exhausted from fighting the change and the welts I can still feel dripping blood down my back. A flash of black at the edge of the crowd has me squinting before it disappears.

  “Rhea!” Comes a shout from behind me. Rex drops to his knees next to me as the sounds of fighting and shouting get louder.

  “Come on, Wildcat.” He gently starts to untie me, his face scrunching in concentration as he tries to hurt me as little as possible.

  “Is Fluffy okay?” I croak. He stops for a second and stares at me, blinking incredulously.

  “He's fine, I'm more worried about you,” he admits before blushing a little, his eyes dropping back to the rope. I stare at him blankly in shock at his comment. I’ve never had anyone worry about me before. It’s strange. I’m brought back to reality at the sounds of a scream behind me, the sound making me flinch.

  I hate not being able to see, it makes everything sound closer and more dangerous. My bare back is still exposed to anyone who stumbles close. Rex grunts and rips off the rope, before gently pulling me up. I sway with a small moan as pain rips through my back at moving. He watches me, the worry clear on his face as the man from the market, the beautiful one with the curly hair, comes jogging up next to him, out of breath. Blood is splattered across his cheek and one eye is turning red.

  “Come on, we need to get out of here. Oh, I’m Jesse by the way, I didn’t get to tell you that before you ran away.” he says, winking at me, before turning and watching our backs.

  “I don't think I can walk far,” I admit in shame. Even now I can feel the blood trickling as the skin pulls tight, my powers choosing now to desert me. The pain is making my head fuzzy, which is not a good sign. Rex looks around before approaching me and gently grabbing the back of my thighs. He lifts me up like I weigh nothing. The sharp movement has me crying out as spots dance in front of my eyes. Fire runs through my body and the darkness closes in on my vision, as the pain overwhelms me. The sounds of fighting, and even Rex’s worried voice, fade away as I fall into the awaiting blackness.

  Jostling wakes me up, my back throbbing painfully with each sway as someone carries me, each step making me grit my teeth. Before I can try and open my eyes, the darkness reclaims me, the pain too great.

  “Why did you do that? We don't even know her. Now we are going to be in so much shit. Fucking morons, the lot of you,” the angry voice has me groaning as I come back to myself.

  “Shh, Blain, you might wake her. It's best she stays unconscious.” The chest I’m held to vibrates as each word comes out soft and quiet. The warmth of his chest and the soft stroking of my hair has me sliding away again, greeting the nothingness like an old friend.

  “I can't believe we are still doing this! She’s going to have the whole town after us. Just because you two idiots are enchanted by some stupid pussy.” The same angry voice from before shouts from somewhere above me. Cracking open my eyes, the light makes them sting as I realise I am laying on something soft. When I can finally focus, I see the edge of a bed in front of me and someone's legs as they stand there.

  “Shut up, Blain,” Rex complains, his voice closer. He kneels down where I can see him and offers me a small, strained smile.

  “Hi-” I start coughing at trying to talk, which only makes me groan in pain at the jarring movements.

  “Try not to move, okay? They are treating your back. It's a homemade concoction that should have you as good as new in no time.”

  Laying my head back down on the soft material, I keep my eyes on him as he smiles at me. Something cold touches my back, making me jump.

  “Sorry, but try not to move. This will help,” I recognize Jesse’s voice as he touches whatever it is to the wound on my exposed back. My skin pebbles as the cold air hits it, making me shiver.

  “God damn idiots, that's what you are. When Alcide finds out, he will have you on shit-shoveling duty for the rest of the year!” Comes the yell from the man whose legs I can only see.

  “Either help or get out Blain,” Rex says, frowning before offering me a shy smile. The room goes quiet before I see the legs moving, Blain leaving wherever we are.

  “Thank fuck he’s gone, he’s such a grumpy bastard,” Jesse complains as he smothers my back in something. I crinkle my nose at the feeling, but try to stay as still as possible. My back does seem to hurt less, though, I can barely feel the pain anymore, allowing me to focus on everything else. Like the fact that I’m half naked in a random place with two men I only just met. The thought doesn't scare me as much as it should. I feel oddly comfortable and they are too busy looking after me to notice. My jaw cracks open on a yawn, the day finally catching up to me.

  “Sleep Rhea, we will be here when you wake up,” Rex offers as he leans forward and moves a stray hair from my face. I try to fight it, but my eyes start to close as he watches me, my body succumbing to sleep.

  Awareness rolls in slowly, my body heavy with sleep. I peel my eyes open, the soft light in the room feeling nice on my tired eyes. I lift my head from where I still lay on my front, I don't even feel a throb in my back. I test it by sitting up and when it doesn't hurt, I stand, having to catch myself on the bed when my body protests.

  Letting my eyes wander, I take in the room. The bed is covered in deep red sheets, with black pillows scattered here and there. The walls seem to be made of material, so I would guess we are in a tent. A large mirror is propped up in one corner and a desk in another. Candles are dotted around, the flames flickering and chasing away the darkness. The ground is covered in soft rugs, mismatched ones sewn together to create padding under my feet. Trunks are piled at the end of the bed with an open sketchbook laying on top. Looking around again, I slowly walk to it when I don’t spot anyone lurking anywhere. Hesitantly, I graze the page where a detailed drawing of Fluffy sits. It looks like it's drawn with charcoal, but the detail and likeness is incredible. Picking it up, I flip through page after page of amazing drawings, making me smile in awe until I come to the last page.

  There staring back at me, is a half-finished drawing of my face. I'm obviously asleep, my head cushioned on the bed and my back bare. Frowning, I glance down at the large shirt I now wear, only now noticing I’m dressed. My eyes drag back to the drawing, my heart beating faster at someone taking the time to draw me, each line lovingly made. The curve of my face, my high, sharp eyebrows; they even managed to get the shades in my hair, although they are black and grey rather than the bright red blending down to blonde. I wonder who drew this?

  Nibbling on my lip, I gently put the book down before someone catches me. Hugging my arms to my torso, I debate my options. I could wait here for Rex or Jesse to come back, but from the darkness I can see through the flaps of the tent as they blow in the wind, I'm guessing it’s night. Decision made, I trot to the tent flap and stick my head out. When I spot no one, I slowly step through, leaving the safety and warmth of the tent behind. Instantly, the chill has my arms breaking out in goosebumps.

  I can't see much in the darkness, the moon's rays only letting me see outlines of shapes spread around the field around me. Noise reaches me, someone's grunts and the clang of metal hitting something. A big top tent sits close to the tent I am in, hurrying to keep warm I head towards it. I push through the open flap to stop and stare in amazement.

  Rows of seating on raised platforms curve around the tent from left to right. Steps in front of me lead down to the open sand-covered stage in the middle. Big grey bricks circle around the stage, clearly dividing it from the audience. A tightrope sways above my head, as do some platforms. The noise comes again making me step in further. There, in the back corner, a man stands throwing knives at a large red and black wheel. Curiosity has me stepping s
ilently down the steps until I'm leaning on the grey bricks.

  The man's side is towards me, allowing me to see his back and every inch of it is covered in black tattoos. Too many to make out all the details, but I can see a version of Fluffy on his right shoulder and a large animal on his other one. The rest are clean, sharp black lines and shapes with scrolling words and scattered drawings. His arm flies forward, another knife whizzing through the air to embed in the wheel. I run my eyes over the rest of him, he's trim. Smaller than Rex but bigger than Jesse, his shoulders are strong and narrow down to a muscled back, which ends with two clear dimples above his bum. His black leather pants ride low, allowing me to see his washboard abs and V as he moves with his throws.

  His hair is neat, parting just off centre, the dark black hair slicked back to either side. It’s cut short, only just reaching his pierced ears. Another piercing glints in his nose as he turns to grab more knives from the table behind him, the blades moving between his fingers with an expertise born from years of practice. I must make some sort of noise when I see his face because his head cranes up and he glares at me. Not even the scowl twisting his pouty lips can detract from his looks. Stubble covers his jaw, more a shadow than anything. His sharp cheekbones and jaw add to his beauty. As do his deep, almost black eyes, surrounded by the longest lashes I have ever seen on a man. The tattoos carry onto his front and up his neck, stopping just below his jaw. I don't get a good look because his sharp voice has me flicking my eyes back to his.

  “Great, so not only do we have to save you, it turns out you’re a nosey bitch.” I realise he's the angry voice from earlier. Didn’t Rex call him Blain? Jesse is right, he is grumpy.

  I don't know what to say, I'm just staring at him dumbly as he groans.

  “You fucking stupid, too?” He snarls at me, making my cheeks heat. I must look like an idiot, just standing there staring at him, but what an asshole.

  “It's better than being an insufferable prick.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, causing my eyes to widen. I’ve never spoken to anyone like that before. I freeze, waiting for a punishment that never comes. Well, not a physical one anyway.

  “Least you’re not a total lost cause,” muttering he turns back to his board and throws knife after knife.

  “What's your problem?” I shout, his lack of anger at my outburst spurring me on. He spins to me, a knife in his hand ready to throw.

  “What's my fucking problem, you ask?” he stalks towards me, the knife still clutched in his hand, making me take a step back and hesitate. My eyes are glued to the weapon shimmering in the light. He frowns and stops before dropping his arm with the knife.

  “Fuck, you think I'm going to stab you or something? Crazy bitch,” he yells before turning in disgust and throwing the knife the length of the tent to the board. It strikes the bullseye, but he doesn’t even spare it a glance; like he expected nothing less; as he turns back to me, his eyes flashing.

  “You're my problem. Not only did we have to interfere with a settlement matter, but now, we are going to have the fucking assholes who run this place gunning for us all because of you and what's between your legs. You put us all at risk.”

  “And that's my problem, how?” I shout, crossing my arms. “I didn't ask you to save me and I sure as hell didn't ask to be born a woman.”

  “Start taking responsibility, sweetheart. Now get the fuck away from me, I don't need to look at you. Bloody trouble is all you are.” He growls as he walks back to his table, collecting his knives in a leather bundle.

  “Listen here, asshole, I've had men tell me all my life that everything's my fault. Do this, do that, don't speak, don't fight. Spread your legs and think of England. I was fine keeping my head down as I worked my way to freedom before I stepped in to save your friends. So don't blame everything on me just because it got a little bit hairy.” My rant runs out, my frustrations and anger at the situation and my whole life coming out like the blades in his hands. His attitude only spurring me on. “I didn't ask for them to save me, but I'm glad they did. I owe them my life, so I guess that means you better suck it up, sweetheart,” I sneer the last word.

  He glares at me, his mouth opening to throw out more of his bad attitude and unwelcome opinions, before he looks behind me and storms out of the other side of the tent without another word.

  I am left fuming at Blain and his shitty behavior. I shouldn’t expect anything else, men have never treated me with anything other than disdain. I am so caught up in my anger and frustration that at first, I don’t notice that I’m not alone anymore.

  My body stills as I realize that someone has entered the big top. I spin, thinking that Blain has come back for more, my temper flaring. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me so mad. I am used to being quiet around men, subservient in actions if not in character. It was how I was raised, but something about these men has me acting differently, more reckless, and Blain makes me so mad that I’m acting completely out of character, against my better judgement.

  I am good at adapting, I have to be to survive in this male-dominated world that is constantly changing. The only way that I have made it alive and intact to this point in my life is by keeping on my toes and adapting to the situation. My powers have also helped keep me alive, but they also put my life at risk. So I hide them, keep my head down, adapt, and survive.

  “So, you are the woman that has caused my men so much trouble?” A rich accented voice greets me.

  Not Blain then. The voice sounds cultured, and although the words may be harsh, I can hear a playful edge around them. His men, he said. So this must be the man in charge of the group. I straighten my back, searching the shadows for the source of this new voice. I don’t want to look too defiant; these guys did rescue me after all, but I am not going to jump from one bad situation to another. I have no idea why they decided to help me, and I have learnt the hard way that nothing comes for free in this world.

  Squinting across the darkened room, I try to get a better look at the man addressing me. There is no doubt from his voice that that’s what he is, his rich voice runs over me as he takes a few steps towards me.

  “I-” My voice cracks. I clear my throat, not wanting to sound weak. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” I tell him, my voice low.

  I am unsure how to act around the man who now holds my fate in his hands. Jesse and Rex just treated me like a normal human, they were easy to be around. Blain made me so mad that I acted before I could think. But this unknown stranger made me realise that once again, I have no control.

  As the stranger comes closer I drop to my knees, head bowed in a position of subservience. That little part of me that has slowly been growing is screaming at me to stand up, not to let myself be used. But a lifetime of being taught that you are a second-class citizen makes certain habits hard to break. The footsteps stop instantly.

  “Shit,” the smooth voice utters, his slight accent making the word sound different. Exotic.

  “Stand up, Cariñoa, we don’t do that here.” He sounds angry, but I get the feeling that the anger is not directed at me.

  Standing, I look up at the man for the first time. He is tall, over six foot, with dark hair shaved short on the sides and styled longer on the top. His icy blue eyes widen slightly as he takes in everything about me, his plush lips quirking up into a smile. He has a short, neatly trimmed beard that does nothing to hide his strong jawline. He looks older than the others, perhaps early thirties? Frankly, this guy is gorgeous. They all are, where did he find these guys?

  Striding closer to me, he circles around me, appraising me as if I am cattle at the market. My temper flares again. This man is contradicting himself; one minute telling me not to show subservience and the next, examining my body like an asset for him to sell. Crossing my arms, I spin, glaring at him. He is wearing tight leather trousers which show off his defined legs, and a fitted red jacket with golden trim. He reminds me of the old circus ringmasters I saw in a magazine I stole from Frederick once. I can’t help but admire the way it fits him, accenting his powerful male body. He notices my interest, winking at me as he continues his perusal. This just makes me angrier, but at myself more than him.