The Ringmaster (Harrow Faire #4) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,100

savor it.

She felt its pleasure. Felt its relief. This was water to a man dying of thirst. This was a loaf of bread to a man who had not eaten in weeks.

“I can live just a little longer, Cora. And I can do it because of you…thank you. Thank you.” It was blessing her, praising her, urging her on. She smiled.

Duncan’s eyes went a little bit glassy. Just a little.

“Can you feel it, Duncan? You can, can’t you?” She chuckled. “I can, too. Tell me something. Think back. What was the first car you owned? You were so proud of it…you kept pictures of it in your wallet like it was your baby.”

He opened his mouth to answer but could only gape like a fish. Fear flashed in his eyes as he tried to recall something so simple and obvious…only to find it gone. And still, the Faire continued to drink.

“Do you remember that ski trip you took with your family when you were twenty-one? You told me how it was the best vacation of your life. You loved to ski. That was the only time I think I ever saw you really happy—when you were on the slopes. You were good at it, too. You were good at a lot of things.”

“Please…please stop…” he whimpered.

“Can you remember that trip?”

“N—no—”

And still, she smiled. And still, the Faire drank. Its pleasure rushed through her, and she pulled in another gasp. It was happy. It was proud. She felt its love for her. Silently, it sang to her—let it linger.

“Tell me about college, Duncan. What did you major in?”

He couldn’t answer. He just stared.

“What’s your favorite food?”

Silence.

“Are you right-handed? Left-handed? Do you know how to swim?”

Nothing.

He was crying and shivering. She leaned over him, pressing her free hand to the ground by his head. She wanted to watch him fade away. To watch him disappear. “Everything that makes you you is going away. Can you feel it? Slipping through your fingers like sand? I can…I can feel every piece as it passes through me. Pretty soon, you won’t exist, Duncan. I can’t rewrite what you’ve done to Emily. I can’t make her trauma go away. But I can make sure you never, ever hurt anyone again.”

“P…please,” Duncan whispered.

“I begged you like this once…when you held me down and raped me. I cried for mercy. You gave me none.” She lowered her face closer to his. “You took from me, like you take from everyone around you. Now I’m going to take everything from you. Everything.”

She kissed him.

And Harrow Faire consumed him.

There was a part of Simon that should be jealous.

But he was too awe-struck to register it.

Because every time he thought he had seen the pinnacle of the beauty that Cora was capable of achieving, he was wrong. She was radiant as she straddled the man beneath her. If she was the specter of death—if she was the force of vengeance—then let it come for him, too.

Cora looked lost in bliss. Submerged in ecstasy as the man beneath her slowly ceased to be. She whispered terrible things to him, taunting him with his own disappearing soul.

And through it all, Simon wanted her.

He wasn’t certain he had ever wanted anyone so badly in his life.

The vision before him, in her leotard and stripes, was sensual and terrifying, like a succubus atop her victim. When she kissed Duncan, Simon bit back a sound. He wouldn’t interrupt the scene. This was a pure masterpiece of poetic glory. This was the work of a god. He knew her whispered conversation had been with the very Faire itself. She was its conduit.

And when she pulled her lips from the mortal man beneath her, Simon witnessed such a glorious apotheosis. When she straightened, she flicked her hair back and looked for all the world like he had seen her when she sat straddled over his own hips.

And also, because as she sat back up, the man beneath her didn’t move. He gaped like a fish beneath her, eyes searching the air around him, but seeing nothing. He was an empty husk. She had drained him dry.

“I understand now,” Cora murmured. Whether it was to Duncan, him, herself, or to Harrow Faire, Simon wasn’t certain. “I understand.”

Simon didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe.

Cora stood from Duncan and looked down at him with a curious tilt of her head. “A living body and a living soul. And no one home to make that soul a person.” She shut her eyes