Page 13 of Slay Me

I laugh. “No, I know that. Just, is there more to him? Or is he just an angry bastard?”

Crossing her arms, Fiona leans back against my headboard and studies me. “You do have a hard-on for the Ringmaster! I fucking knew it. Liv, you’re playing with fire.”

“I don’t! No! Of course not. I’m just spending a shit-ton of time with him these days, and I’m curious.”

“You’ve been spending a shit-ton of time with him for the past twelve years. Why ask me all the questions now?” Gaze narrowed, I know she’s studying my expression for any tell that I’m lying. A faint change in my breathing, perspiration on my brow, the predator in her will pick it up easily enough.

“He intrigues me,” I reply. Partial honesty is better than an outright lie and a hell of a lot better than the truth.

Her expression morphs, turning dark, and she leans in, dropping her tone. “Intrigue leads to feelings, Liv. And while I may not know him well, I do know that feeling anything for that man is going to lead to a hell of a lot more pain than you deserve.”

Chapter4

Liv

“Come on, Liv. It’s just coffee,” Fiona urges me, hand on my arm. “You left yesterday. Today should be a breeze.”

Yesterday, I had the Ringmaster with me.Of course, I don’t voice that reason out loud. Doing so would not only offend my friend but admit to her that the predator out here terrifies me far more than the Ringmaster.

A predator I've no doubt I won’t escape a second time. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” I feel weak, pathetic, to be battling with such a seemingly brainless decision such as going out for a cup of coffee, but here I am. Damn near ready to curl in on myself over it.

“Look.” Releasing me, Fiona yanks up the sleeve of her jacket and shows me the tattoo on her wrist. It matches the one on mine, three flames dancing around a ring. The ink is black, though it shimmers beneath the sun above us as though it’s alive from the inside. Our brand, a mark that tells the world who we belong to. “This might as well be our House ring,” she says. “It tells everyone not to fuck with us.”

“I don’t know,” I say. My stomach aches, clenching with the idea of being recognized by one of Ernesto’s men. They’re everywhere. Or, at least, they used to be. And they won’t hesitate just because someone else has inked my flesh. Truthfully, Ernesto will likely take great pleasure in slicing it from my body.

“I’m with you, too,” she says. “Apollo will be there, Harriss—you won’t be alone. There’s more of us today than you had yesterday.”

After yet another sleepless night plagued with memories I’d rather bury and attraction that borders on self-torment, I’d decided to take the leap and at least try to get comfortable with leaving. After all, if I plan to escape, I’d better figure out how to handle the crippling anxiety that accompanies the outside world. However, now that it’s actually time, I eye the gate at the edge of the circus with uncertainty. “I’ll just wait here. Bring me back something?”

“No. Seriously, Liv. You need to leave this fucking place, or else you’re going to end up with Stockholm’s Syndrome or some shit.”

Swallowing hard, I glance back at the circus as the Ringmaster steps out of the big top. Flanked by massive red and white stripes, he looks small in comparison to the performance tent. But then his gaze finds mine. Eyes swimming with something I cannot even begin to understand, his mere presence at my back pushes me out the proverbial door. I turn to face her, leaving him to stare at my back. “Then let’s do this.”

“Yes!” Fiona cheers and loops her arm through mine as we take the leap.

But the moment my boot hits the ground outside of the safety of the circus, my anxiety turns near crippling. It slams into me, far worse than yesterday. Honestly, if it weren’t for Fiona’s arm on mine, I might have collapsed. Or sprinted back and locked myself in my apartment.

Palms sweating, muscles shaking, stomach churning, I continue to hold her arm as she guides me down the alley and toward one of the main arteries in No Man’s Land. Every noise might as well be a drumline in my ear, every movement an enemy I’ve yet to face. It surprises me how different I feel now, without the Ringmaster at my side

Shit, Fiona is right. I might be suffering from Stockholm’s Syndrome.

Fiona is silent as we walk, likely taking in the surroundings with the senses of a predator while I search for any possible exit should we be cornered. The street is busy today, filled with people moving up and down in search of work or headed toward the marketplace to search for their next favorite bauble.

I spent years on the streets here. So much so that I know them like the back of my hand. Before Ernesto turned on me, I’d even attended the circus as an onlooker. More than once, actually. The Ringmaster had captivated me then, too. The man in red and black. A man who’d always seemed larger than life.

Something that had not escaped Ernesto’s attention.

I shiver.

“You good?”

I glance over at Fiona, surprised to see her ice-blue eyes trained on me even as we continue walking. “Yeah, why?”

“You shivered, and it’s not cold.”

“This place and I have some history. And it’s not pleasant.”

“Gathered as much. The coffee place is just ahead.” Letting her guide me through the trash-littered streets, I breathe a sigh of relief when the massive coffee bean comes into view. As soon as we step inside, my panic shrinks away to little more than background noise.

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