Page 2 of Tamed By the Lion Freak

Pain jolted through her.

Somehow she doubted that she’d ever love again. Not after Marco’s betrayal. But the other stuff? It was worth a shot. What was the worst they could do? Kick her out on her ass?

Been there. Done that.

Decision made, Kitty snatched up her keys. She plugged the address into her GPS. The truck's engine coughed to life, and she peeled out of the lot, leaving behind nothing but tire marks and the lingering echo of failure and ridicule.

The highway stretched before her, a ribbon of black in the gathering gloom. Kitty's hands clenched the wheel, her mind racing faster than the truck ever could. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on the road ahead.

Images flashed through her mind, as vivid as the day it happened. The chatter of the crowd, the smell of popcorn and the thrill of waiting to step into the spotlight. Brutus, magnificent in the center ring, his golden coat gleaming under the spotlights. The routine had been going perfectly. Until it all went to shit.

A man who had been sitting in the front row, standing when he should have stayed seated, waved his arms, shouting something she couldn't make out over the music. Then all of a sudden, he had a Tomahawk steak in his hands. Was he crazy? Had he had a death wish? Brutus, distracted, eyed the man and the meat that had been dripping juice into the ring. And then...

Chaos. Screams. The metallic tang of blood in the air.

Kitty blinked hard, forcing the memories away. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she angrily wiped them away. Crying wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't bring back her career, her reputation. Her lions.

God, her lions. What had happened to them after? The thought of Brutus, Nala, and Sarabi locked away in some sterile zoo enclosure made her chest ache. Or worse, put down because of one stupid man who should have known better. He had wanted to pet the lions.

Pet them.

Lured them in with a steak.

He lost his arm.

It happened so damned fast.

She almost lost her arm trying to get Brutus back under control. The claw marks he left pulsed with a phantom pain.

The nasal voice of the GPS told her to take the next exit. Once off the highway, she was directed to take a narrow road that wound through a dense forest. Branches scraped against the truck's sides like grasping fingers. The darkness was broken only by the weak glow of Kitty's headlights. She leaned forward, straining to see through the dirty windshield.

The trees pressed close on either side, their leaves rustling in a wind she couldn't feel. It reminded her of the way Brutus would huff softly before a performance, his warm breath tickling her neck as she prepared to step into the ring. The memory sent a pang through her heart.

Just as she was beginning to think the GPS had gotten her hopelessly lost, the trees parted. Kitty's breath caught in her throat.

Before her sprawled the Twisted Carnival. Tents of various sizes dotted a muddy field, their once-bright colors now faded and stained. Strange, twisted shapes loomed in the shadows. The Ferris wheel stood motionless, its weather-beaten cars swaying slightly in the breeze, chains creaking ominously. The merry-go-round was a study in decay, its chipped and faded animals frozen in a macabre dance, their glass eyes reflecting the dim light with an unsettling gleam.

As she killed the engine, an eerie silence fell. No calliope music, no chatter of crowds. Just a low, throbbing hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It vibrated in her chest, setting her teeth on edge.

Kitty's hand trembled as she reached for the door handle. What was she doing here? What did she hope to find in this godforsaken place?

But she was out of options. Out of time. Out of hope.

With a deep breath, Kitty stepped out of the truck and into the unknown. The mud sucked at her shoes, threatening to pull them off with each step as she walked through the temporary gates. A sickly-sweet smell hung in the air – cotton candy mixed with something darker, something wrong. It reminded her of decay, of things best left buried.

As she drew closer to the main tent, Kitty became aware of other sounds. The creak of metal, as if the rides were shifting in their sleep. A distant, keening wail that might have been the wind or something else entirely. And underneath it all, that persistent thrumming, like the heartbeat of some vast, slumbering beast.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Kitty whirled, heart pounding. A figure emerged from the shadows, moving with an unnatural power. As it stepped into the wan light of a nearby lamp, Kitty's breath caught in her throat.

The woman before her was tall and rail-thin, draped in layers of dark, shimmering fabric that absorbed the light around her. Her face was all sharp angles, framed by a wild mane of black hair shot through with silver. But it was her eyes that held Kitty transfixed – deep, swirling purple that looked right through her, stripping away every defense.

"I'm looking for work," Kitty managed, hating the tremor in her voice. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how unprofessional she must look in her T-shirt and jeans. "I thought—"

"You thought what, my dear?" the woman interrupted, her voice a silky purr that sent shivers down Kitty's spine. "That you might find refuge here? Or perhaps redemption?"

Kitty stiffened. "How did you—"

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