Page 4 of Tamed By the Lion Freak

Chapter Two

Sunset was approaching.

Damn it.

Leo sprinted for his cage, set in the back of the animal encampment. The donkeys brayed at him. One of the tigers took a halfhearted swipe as he raced passed. If he wasn’t in his cage after sunset, he’d get the electrical prod.

Climbing inside the cage, he swung the door shot and it locked behind him. Trapped inside the ten feet by twelve cage with reinforced steel bars on one side, he felt the familiar surge of dread. A threadbare mattress lay in one corner and he quickly sat down on it. He stripped off his clothes so he wouldn’t ruin them.

Gritting his teeth, Leo braced himself for the agony to come, for humanity to retreat until the sun rose again. It started as a tingling in his fingertips, a prickling along his spine. Then, as the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon, pain exploded through every cell of his body.

A guttural roar tore from his throat. His bones cracked and reformed, muscles stretching and contorting. Coarse, golden fur erupted from his skin as his face elongated into a powerful muzzle. The transformation was excruciating, as it had been every night for the past ten years, yet he never grew accustomed to it.

When it was over, Leo lay panting on the cage floor, his massive lion's body heaving with each breath. The scents of the carnival assaulted his heightened senses – grease paint and cotton candy, sweat and fear. He shook his mane, trying to clear his head of the lingering disorientation.

Slowly, Leo rose to his paws and padded to the barred side of his enclosure, peering out at the carnival beyond. Carnies scurried about, setting up for the night's performance. In the distance, he could hear the calliope starting up, its cheerful tune a stark contrast to his black mood.

A familiar scent wafted towards him – jasmine and smoke, with an undercurrent of something dark magic. Leo's hackles rose instinctively.

"Good evening, my pet," Madame Noir's silky voice preceded her appearance. She materialized from the shadows. "I trust you're ready for tonight's performance?"

Leo snarled, baring his fangs. Even in this form, stripped of human speech, his loathing for her was clear.

Madame Noir laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Now, now. Is that any way to greet me after all I’ve done for you and your sister?" She raised a hand, and Leo felt an invisible force constrict around his throat. He clawed at the air, choking, as Madame Noir's eyes glowed with an unholy light. Images flashed through Leo's mind – the antiseptic smell of the hospital, a desperate plea, a contract signed in blood. He sagged in defeat, and Madame Noir released her hold.

"That's better," she said, smoothing her gown. "We have a new addition to our little family. A lion tamer, if you can believe it." Her lips curved in a cruel smile. "Kitty Wylde. Perhaps you've heard of her? Quite the scandal she caused."

Leo's ears pricked forward at the name. Of course he knew of Kitty Wylde. He remembered seeing footage of the accident – the chaos, the blood, the look of horror on Kitty's face as her star lion attacked an audience member.

"She's fallen on hard times, poor thing," Madame Noir continued, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "But I see potential in her. And I think you two will work wonderfully together."

Work with a lion tamer? One who was rumored to abuse and starve her animals? She was in for a rude surprise if she tried that shit with him.

"It’s almost showtime. Do try to put on a good performance tonight. You know how I hate disappointment."

The threat in her words was clear. Leo had seen what happened to those who displeased Madame Noir. With a final, chilling smile, she melted back into the shadows, leaving Leo alone with his rage and the lingering scent of powerful magic.

As the carnival came fully to life around him, Leo paced his cage, his powerful muscles rippling beneath his golden coat. He could hear the crowd gathering. Their excited twittering was an annoying itch to his sensitive ears. Beneath it all was the persistent thrum of the carnival's dark energy, feeding on their anticipation, their wonder, their fear.

Leo had long since learned to tune out the voices of the other performers as they prepared for their acts. The bearded lady's constant complaints about her itchy chin, the sword swallower's nervous gulping, the conjoined twins' bickering – it all faded into background noise. But tonight, there was a new voice among them, one that cut through the din and made Leo's ears twitch.

"I'm not sure about this, Madame Noir. It's been so long since I've worked with lions, and after what happened..."

"Nonsense. Your talent is innate. And Leo is as meek as a kitten."

Leo snorted, but he crept closer to the bars, straining to catch a glimpse of the newcomer. And then he saw her.

Kitty Wylde was nothing like he'd imagined. In the news footage, she'd been all sequins and bravado, larger than life. The woman who stood before him was diminished, her shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible weight.

For a moment, their gazes met. Leo felt an unexpected jolt, a connection he couldn't explain. Pity. It had to be pity that he was feeling. That was why his anger had dulled.

Then Madame Noir's hand closed around Kitty's arm, steering her away, and the moment was broken. Leo retreated to the back of his cage, confusion warring with a strange sense of anticipation. What game was Madame Noir playing? A kitten? Him?

Before he could ponder it further, the familiar sound of his cage being unlocked rang out. It was showtime.

Leo allowed himself to be herded down the narrow corridor that led to the main tent, flanked by two burly handlers armed with shock prods. Not that they'd ever needed to use them. Leo knew the consequences of misbehavior all too well. As they entered the big top, he blinked against the sudden glare of the spotlights. The tent was packed, faces blurring together in a sea of wide eyes and open mouths.

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