Page 58 of Carnival Shadows

“Yeah.” Remy resumes chopping, each strike of the knife precise and controlled. “He’s rotting in prison. Won’t ever get out.”

I process this information, adding it to my mental profile of Remy. So much about him makes more sense now—his need for control, his capacity for violence, his distrust of connections. And yet here he is, cooking dinner with me, sharing pieces of his past.

Minutes later, I watch Remy plate our food, my heart fluttering at this glimpse of domesticity. How he moves in the small kitchen makes me ache for something I’ve never let myself want a real connection with anyone before.

“Come here,” he commands, moving the chair so it’s placed parallel to the table rather than facing it and unzipping his pants to release his cock.

I move toward him, and he guides me onto his lap. My breath catches as he positions me, sliding inside me with a low groan. The fullness makes me whimper.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice rough against my ear. “You’re keeping me warm while we eat.”

I nod, trying to control my trembling, as he positions the plate between us on the table to our side and grabs the fork. The first bite he offers makes me moan—I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeding me another bite. His free hand strokes my hip, steadying me when I instinctively try to move. “I said stay still.”

The intimacy of it overwhelms me. How he’s taking care of me, feeding me while staying buried deep inside me is more than just sex. More than the rough claiming I’m used to from him.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Remy says, offering another bite. “Just feel.”

I stop moving and accept the food. For the first time in my life, I let myself hope that this man has the same need for connection as I do.

I moan softly as Remy offers me another bite of the delicious stir-fry, the flavors exploding on my tongue. His cock pulses inside me with each small movement, reminding me of our intimate connection.

“Your turn,” I whisper, taking the fork from his hand and spearing a piece of pepper. I bring the food to his lips.

His eyes lock with mine as he takes the bite, and something in his gaze makes my breath falter. There’s hunger there, but not just for food or sex.

“More,” he commands, and I’m unsure if he means the food.

We continue like this, trading bites and soft touches. His free hand strokes my hip, thigh, and stomach—not to arouse but to maintain contact and intimacy.

I feed him another bite. When a drop of sauce escapes the corner of his mouth, I lean in without thinking, licking it away. He growls but doesn’t push for more.

“Open,” he murmurs, offering me another bite. The tenderness in his voice makes my eyes sting. I’ve never had someone take care of me, feed me, or hold me like I’m precious.

The food disappears slowly as we savor each bite and each other’s presence. Neither of us speaks much. We don’t need to. The quiet intimacy of sharing a meal while physically joined says everything.

28

REMY

The crunch of gravel outside my trailer startles me awake, followed by hushed voices that don’t belong to my crew. My muscles tense as I slip out of bed.

“Stay here,” I whisper as Eden shifts, grabbing my knife and gun from the bedside drawer.

Exiting the trailer, I scan the shadows between the carnival rides. Three figures dart between the tents, heading toward Ty’s office trailer. My jaw clenches. Those idiots from the Martinez crew think they can strong-arm us by causing trouble.

“I said stay inside,” I growl, sensing Eden’s presence behind me without turning around. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t retreat.

The intruders pause behind the Ferris wheel, their outlines visible against the moonlight. One carries what looks like a baseball bat, another a crowbar—amateur hour.

“Go back to the trailer. Now.” I keep my voice low but firm.

“I want to help,” Eden whispers back, her stubbornness shining through.

“This isn’t one of your podcast stories.” I grip my knife tighter as the figures split up, two heading toward the storagecontainers. At the same time, one continues toward Ty’s office. “This is real, and you need to?—”

A crash echoes through the carnival grounds as one of them knocks over a stack of empty crates. My window of surprise is closing.

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