Page 44 of Carnival Shadows

I lay beneath Remy, our bodies still joined, my heart gradually slowing its frantic pace. The forest canopy sways above us, dappled sunlight dancing through the leaves. Every nerve ending in my body hums with satisfaction, my muscles deliciously sore.

This man knows my shameful secrets, has read them in my journal, and instead of running, he brings them to life. The thought sends a shiver through me. He shifts but maintains his possessive hold, his weight anchoring me to the earth.

The scent of pine needles mingles with sweat and musk. Somewhere above us, a bird calls to its mate. Nature continues its course around us, indifferent to our presence and what happened here.

I trace my fingers along the ridges of his back, memorizing each dip and curve. This moment feels surreal—like one of my fevered dreams come to life. But the bark scratching my skin and his weight proves this is so very real.

My obsession with Remy started as something clinical, even academic. I told myself I was studying him, analyzing him like all my other subjects. But he saw through that facade from the beginning and recognized the deviance that mirrored his own.

A gentle breeze cools our heated skin. Neither of us speaks—words would only break this perfect moment. Instead, I close my eyes and simply feel his breath against my neck, his heartbeat against my chest, the way our bodies fit together like matching puzzle pieces.

I’ve spent years documenting others’ obsessions and their descent into depravity. Now, I’m living my own story, and for once, I don’t want to analyze it. I want to exist in this raw, primal space where Remy and I understand each other completely.

22

REMY

Ishift another crate into position while Cade hands me the inventory list. The early morning sun beats down on us as we prepare for tonight’s exchange at the lumber yard.

“So,” Cade says with a smirk. “Saw you and the podcaster getting cozy in the forest yesterday.”

I shoot him a warning glare. “Focus on the job.”

“Hey, I was setting up my own fun with Lily when I spotted you two.” He chuckles, checking off items on the list. “Never thought I’d see the day the mighty Remy would let someone get that close.”

“Drop it.” My voice carries an edge that would make most men flinch. Not Cade, though. We’ve worked together too long.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” He hands me another crate. “The way you were looking at her, that’s not just playing with your food anymore.”

I slam the crate down harder than necessary. “You’re crossing a line.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Cade raises an eyebrow. “Eden’s different than the girls you usually fuck. I can tell. You’re actually letting her in.”

My jaw clenches as I continue working. He’s right, but I’ll never admit it out loud. Eden’s gotten under my skin in ways I never expected—ways that could be dangerous in our line of work.

“Just be careful,” Cade says, his tone growing serious. “Distractions can get messy in this business.”

I nod, knowing he’s speaking from experience with Lily. We finish loading the crates in silence, both lost in thoughts about the women who’ve complicated our carefully ordered lives.

I stretch my shoulders, working out the tension from moving crates all morning. Cade lounges against a stack of boxes, taking another unauthorized break.

“You know what your problem is?” He grins, that manic gleam in his eyes. “You think too much. All that brooding and calculating.”

“Better than not thinking at all,” I shoot back, but there’s no real heat. Cade’s unhinged, but he’s also my closest friend.

“Hey, I think plenty.” He pulls out a cigarette. “Like right now, I think you need to get laid more. Loosen up that stick up your ass.”

I snort. “Says the guy who can’t shut up about his girlfriend.”

“At least I’m honest about what I want.” He blows smoke rings, oddly precise for someone so chaotic. “You’re all...” He waves his hand vaguely. “Mysterious and shit. Must be exhausting.”

“Working with you is exhausting.”

“You love it.” Cade grins wider. “I keep things interesting.”

“That’s one word for it.” I grab his clipboard, checking the numbers myself. “You’re the reason my hair’s going gray.”

“Please, you’d be bored without me.” He flicks ash onto the ground. “Remember that time in Denver?—”

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