Page 93 of Carnival Mayhem

Flora’s eyes light up with understanding. The tent will give us privacy, warmth, and ample equipment to make things interesting.

“Twenty seconds,” Colt declares, sliding his white mask into place. “Start running.”

Flora lets out an excited squeal and bolts through the door, giggling. We step outside and begin the count as her footsteps crunch in the snow, her beautiful silhouette racing toward the training tent.

I secure my skull mask, sharing a look with Colt. The familiar thrill of the hunt courses through me. Flora wants to be caught. She’s chosen this game, chosen us.

“Think she’ll make it to the tent before we catch her?” Colt asks, his voice muffled behind his mask.

“Let’s find out.” I check my new pocket watch. “Time’s up.”

We enter the cold night air, following Flora’s tracks in the fresh snow. Her laughter echoes ahead of us, carried on the winter wind, drawing us toward our bounty.

I race after Flora, Colt at my side, our boots crunching through the fresh snow. Her laughter carries on the wind, urging us forward. We’re close, so close to catching her before she reaches the tent, but she puts on a burst of speed at the last moment and slips inside.

Colt curses under his breath, but I can hear the excitement in his voice.

We enter the tent, its warmth contrasting with the biting cold outside. The space is filled with training equipment—silks, trapezes, and mats—providing ample hiding spots for our clever little bird.

“Where do you think she’s hiding?” Colt asks, his eyes scanning the tent.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “Spread out. She’s here somewhere.”

We move through the tent, checking behind equipment and under mats. Each empty hiding spot only fuels my anticipation.I can almost feel Flora’s presence, her barely contained excitement and fear.

A soft rustle draws my attention to a stack of mats in the corner. I motion to Colt, and we approach slowly, stalking our prey.

“Come out, come out, little bird,” I call, my voice low and teasing. “We know you’re here.”

Another rustle, a stifled giggle. She’s close.

I crouch down, peering into the small space between the mats and the wall. In the shadows, I glimpse her wide, excited eyes.

“Got you,” I whisper, reaching for her.

She lets out a delighted shriek and tries to scramble away, but Colt is there, blocking her escape. We converge on her, pulling her out from her hiding spot and into our arms.

“Caught you,” Colt growls, his hands roaming over her body.

Flora squirms in our grasp, her breath coming in quick gasps.

I tighten my grip on Flora’s wrists, pressing her into the mats as she squirms against us. She bites down on my gloved hand, her eyes flashing with feral determination. The sensation sends a jolt through me, igniting something primal.

“Fight all you want,” Colt says, his voice dark with desire. “You’re not going to stop us.”

I nod, stepping back as he produces a length of silk rope. With practiced ease, he secures Flora’s wrists, her struggle only fueling our mounting need to possess her.

She continues to kick and struggle as Colt ties each of her ankles to her thighs, keeping her restrained and open to us. Our girl’s eyes flashed with fury. “Stop it! I don’t want this!”

Colt tears open Flora’s shirt, exposing her breasts to the cool air and making her skin pebble with goosebumps. She arches her back in a silent plea for more.

“Please, no,” she whimpers, attempting to cover herself.

“We know what you want,” Colt says.

I reach for the waistband of her leggings, my fingers curling around the elastic to yank them off.

“Stop fighting,” I murmur, trailing kisses along her spine. “Let us give you what you crave.”

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