Page 23 of Maison De Fous

The pounding bass from inside the tent fades as we step outside of the tent. The air is cool but heavy with the scent of blood and dirt as we make our way around to the back of the tent. The energy outside is tense, palpable, like the calm moments before a storm. I glance over at Lux, his jaw tight as we follow Giselle, her small silhouette moving ahead of us in a hurry. Each urgent step makes her tight little ass jiggle as she walks, and I can’t help but wonder how pretty it would be bouncing on my cock.

There aren’t many cirkies I haven’t stuck my dick into at this point, men or women. But Giselle is one of the few who won’t put up with my bullshit—or anyone else’s, for that matter. I could order that woman to get on her knees like I did for Syndey, and she’d slice me open and serve me up for dinner without a second thought. She’s tough—one of the toughest among the cirkies—and the way she’s walking now ignites a cold fury in my gut. But one thing is certain. If Giselle is asking for help, then something big time has gone down.

Whatever this is, it’s bad. And for whatever reason, the thought of Indie out there, blissfully unaware, and stoned off her ass makes my skin crawl. I know Lux allowing me close to her is only for tonight, and I’m okay with that. Shit, I know Indie is special to him; I’d never take her from Lux, never hurt her. But hell, I’ll definitely indulge myself in her for as long as Lux allows it.

“Talk,” I grunt, speeding up to walk beside Giselle. “What the hell’s going on?”

Her face twists in a grimace, lips tightening as she glances at me, then at Lux. “Some of the customers… they turned on us. One of them grabbed me, tried to slit my throat. Got the jump on a few of the others. Stupid fuckers! We didn’t see them coming.”

The thought of anyone laying hands on Giselle, or any of the cirkies, makes my blood boil. My fists clench, my body hums with rage. I cast a glance at Lux, whose face is a mask of cold fury. His jaw flexes, and I know he’s gearing up for blood. He doesn’t need to say a word, he’s never had to. He and I are like one in the same, and we’re always on the same page when it comes to shit like this.

“Where’s the bastard now?” I ask, my tone low and dark. I can already taste the violence that’s about to unfold and fuck if it doesn’t have my blood pumping and my cock ready to sink into something.

Giselle’s eyes flash in the dim light as we round a corner, her hand flicking toward the shadows ahead. “Dead. I slit his throat before he could finish me off.”

Good. But it doesn’t ease the tension thrumming through my veins. I want more. I want to see the light fade from their eyes. To make them bleed for thinking they could touch what belongs to us. The cirkies are ours to protect, and these fuckers are about to learn a brutal lesson about breaking the rules.

The tent’s glow fades behind us, and we find ourselves near the back of the campgrounds where the cirkies have all set up their makeshift shelters and tents around a large fire pit. The air is thick with smoke, the scent of burning wood mixed with something familiar and metallic.

Blood.

Ahead, near the fire, I see them—a group of customers dressed in black robes with the same black mask all the customer were given. Most people would look at them and assume they’re just customers. They just came here like all the other fuckers to get off to some weird kinky shit, or give into their wild depravities, but not me. There’s something off about them. Something wrong. And then I see it—the crumpled bodies near the edge of the fire, the flickering flames casting just enough light to show the blood pooling around their heads.

“Fuck,” I mutter, scanning the scene. At least four cirkies lie lifeless, their bodies limp, throats slashed open. A couple more off to the side, tied up but breathing. They’re still alive. For now.

Lux steps forward, his body tense, every movement controlled, deliberate. The customers don’t notice us at first, too busy dragging one of the last surviving cirkies toward the fire pit. Carly, one of the ballerina’s that works with Syndey is barely conscious, her body limp as they pull her closer to the flames.

“Hey!” Lux’s voice cuts through the night like a whip crack.

The customers freeze, their heads turning toward us, eyes gleaming from behind their masks. They don’t move, but I can see the shift in their stance—the way they size us up. There are five of them, all dressed in the same, but their builds give them away. These aren’t your average sick farm town fucks.

These fuckers are professionals.

“Well, well,” one of them says, stepping forward. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, his voice smooth, like he’s not standing infront of a pile of corpses. “Looks like we’ve got company. You must be the guys in charge around here.”

I don’t respond. It’s not my place to, as much as I want to rip this guy apart. I just crack my neck, the tension in my shoulders ready to snap. Lux steps forward, his eyes dark as the abyss, locking onto the leader.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lux asks, his voice low and deadly.

The leader chuckles, stepping closer, clearly thinking he’s still in control. “Having a little fun. Isn’t that what this whole freak show is about? Fun, games, maybe a few casualties along the way?” His grin widens, and he pulls a knife from his belt, twirling it between his fingers like he’s showing off.

Giselle tenses beside me, but I raise a hand, stopping her. We’ve got this. Lux and I can handle these fuckers.

“You think this is a fucking game?” Lux says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carries weight. Heavy. Lethal.

The leader shrugs, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “Everything here tonight is a goddamn game, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you freaks are all about—fulfilling desires? So, what if my desire is to wipe every last one of you off the map? Except for her,” he says, tilting his head toward Giselle. “I want her to suffer. To ruin every one of her pretty little holes before I put her down. Then when my friends here and I are done with her, I’ll bury her right here so she can rot alongside you and the rest of her pathetic friends.”

I lean in closer, my smile cold and mocking. “You think you can take her? You’re dreaming, asshole. You’ll never lay a hand on her, and if you think you’re leaving this place alive, you’re the one who’s going to end up buried in the dirt next to your little fantasies.” I glance at Giselle, a glimmer of pride igniting within me. “You don’t know the first thing about desire, but trust me,we’re more than willing to show you exactly how it feels to be hunted.”

My patience snaps.

I lunge, closing the distance between us in an instant. My fist connects with his jaw, sending him reeling, but I don’t stop there. I grab him by the throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the nearest tent post. The structure groans under the force, and I hear the satisfying crunch of bones breaking beneath my grip.

His hands claw at mine, desperate to break free, but I’m not letting go. “You think you know desire?” I hiss, my breath hot against his face. “You don’t have a fucking clue. You’re just a pathetic wannabe playing a game that’s already over.”

With a twist of my wrist, I snap his neck, the crack echoing in the still night. His body goes limp in my grip, and I toss him to the ground like the trash he is. One down.

The remaining customers freeze, their bravado evaporating as they realize what just happened. They’re not dealing with the performers anymore; they’re facing the ones who run the fucking show. Lux steps forward, his presence commanding, and the remaining customers back away, their hands raised in surrender.

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