Page 8 of Slay Me

I meet his gaze now that there’s space between us, not at all surprised to see agitation etched in every masculine line.

“May I continue?” I question.

He nods.

Chapter3

Liv

I’m just finishing up my stretches when someone knocks on my door. Getting to my feet, I make my way over and pull it open, expecting Fiona or Apollo on the other side.

Certainly not the man I spent last night dreaming about. The Ringmaster cocks his head to the side and studies my attire. Which, at the current moment, is not much. Tattered shorts barely cover my ass, and the tank top I’m wearing shows far more of my breasts than it should.

“Change,” he orders.

“Why? Perform—”

“You’re coming somewhere with me. Change, and meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

My heartbeat quickens. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” he snaps.

“As inoutside?” I question. “I can’t leave the circus.”

“You will do as I ask,” he snaps. “Or have you forgotten who you belong to?”

“Of course not,” I retort. “But Er—” He narrows his gaze, so I stop speaking.

“Is the very fucking reason you need to get out,” he snarls. “Safely. So you can see that that motherfucker cannot touch you ever again. Not while you belong to me. Five minutes, Liv,” he demands then turns and stalks away.

I slam my door and lean back against it, my chest seizing in panic. Sliding down to the floor, I practice my breathing. In and out. In and out.

Logically, I know that I am safe with the Ringmaster. But the illogical part of my brain? The areas of my mind still trapped in fear? I cannot help but believe that Ernesto is capable of so much more than the Ringmaster gives him credit for.

My breathing becomes easier with every passing moment, and since I don’t want to risk his wrath, I force myself up and change into black leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that I toss over my tank. After slipping into my flats, I step out into the hall and shut my door.

The walk downstairs takes mere minutes, but it feels like hours on unstable legs. Still, I’ve gotten really good at maintaining composure even when I feel like falling apart, so I do that now as I face the Ringmaster, who stands just inside the doors that lead outside.

“Is this punishment?” I question, voice shaking. “You know I don’t want to leave. That I don’t ever leave.”

“I have an errand to run, and you’re coming with me,” he replies. “You’ve been here twelve years, and you’ve never stepped foot past the boundary line.”

“You should be grateful,” I reply. “Doing so would put me in danger, which means you’d lose a performer.”

He leans in, so close I can smell the faintest hint of his cologne. I shiver, heat radiating through my body.

“I don’t lose things that belong to me, Liv.” The Ringmaster holds my gaze for a moment, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders. But before I can say anything in response, he moves past me and heads outside.

The weather is overcast, which makes me grateful I chose to wear long sleeves versus the t-shirt I nearly went with. To my surprise, no one joins us. Not even his security team. We walk side-by-side toward the boundary line.

I stop just on this side of it, feeling it pulsating as though it were a ward. In reality, it’s little more than a crack in the black asphalt.

The Ringmaster moves across it and doesn’t bother stopping to see if I’ve followed. Which I do, even as everything inside of me is screaming for me to turn and run back to the apartments.

“Where are we going?” I question, having to jog to catch up with his strides.

“The market.”

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