The Ringmaster (Harrow Faire #4) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,22

the kitchenette table, sending his bowl of pasta crashing to the ground, forgotten.

Did he just say he—

He didn’t.

Did he?

No.

Maybe?

There was no way of knowing, and she didn’t have time to think about it. He ripped off her clothes and descended on her like the madman that he was. When she tried to sit up, something thin and invisible snapped around her throat, dragging her back to the tabletop.

His strings.

When she went to protest, he slapped his hand over her mouth. “No talking. No touching.” He grinned viciously down at her. Snatching her wrists, he slammed them to the table over her head. She felt his strings snap around them, holding her there.

“I have some…frustrations to vent, cupcake.” His hands swept over her thighs, stroking up her stomach, toying with her body as he perused her to his heart’s content. Each time she squirmed or writhed, he tightened his strings or added more until she could barely move.

Tilting his head, he looked down at her and grunted. “You are…quite a sight, Contortionist.” The rattle of a buckle and one violent, unflinching thrust, and he was inside her. He laughed at her cry as she arched her back and wailed. But it wasn’t a sound of pain that left her. It was anything but.

He grinned down at her. The grin she had come to adore. The grin she had come to love.

“Consider this your apology, Cora.”

6

It wasn’t until dinner that Cora finally worked up the nerve to leave her boxcar. She knew she was going to be lambasted with questions. Honestly, she was shocked that Ringmaster hadn’t come pounding on the door, demanding answers about what had happened with Clown.

Answers she didn’t know how to give.

Answers she didn’t know if she even wanted to give.

Yeah, so. Clown died because he carried with him a link of the Faire. That’s what was eating the seity of the Family members, not him. No, I don’t know why it isn’t Mr. Harrow who has it. No, I don’t know why me. But I know the Faire talks to me now. So, there’s that.

Oh, and we’re all dying slowly.

Apparently.

Great. The tacos are good tonight, aren’t they?

Resting her forehead against the mirror in the bathroom, she dreaded what she was going to have to deal with. She had dressed, put on makeup, and tried to make everything feel as normal as it could be, but it was a lie. There hadn’t been a single moment of normal since the moment she set foot in the stupid circus.

Would it kill this place to give her a few weeks to adjust to something before it dumped more on her?

Probably. It is dying, after all.

She wondered how long it had to live or how urgent everything was. She honestly had no idea. Every time she tried to talk to the Faire, Simon found a way to butt in.

Speaking of.

He rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “You alive in there?”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “Yeah, yeah. Just gathering my thoughts.” Opening the door, she stepped out. He was fully dressed in his usual garb—the expensive and eccentrically tailored red suit with the black pinstripes. Reaching out, she smoothed her fingers over the lapels before wandering to his tie.

He had a lopsided smirk on his face as he watched her. “It was not long ago that you were terrified of me. Now you gaze at me like a lovesick puppy. Fascinating how quickly things change.”

She jabbed him harshly in the chest.

“Ow.” He hardly seemed upset, as he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her close. “You can be indignant all you want. It’s true.”

“I’m still terrified of you. I always will be. I think that’s a large part of your charm.”

“I think that reflects more on you than it does me.”

“Undoubtedly.” Leaning against him, she rested her cheek on his chest. She let herself enjoy the smell of him—the sensation of him. “I don’t know what to say to everyone when they ask me what happened.”

“I suggest saying nothing at all. Tell them you don’t understand what’s transpired—which is true. Say nothing of your link to the Faire, and of our impending demise. Wait until you have all the pieces to your mystery.”

“Why?”

“Because only then will you know who is a friend and who is a foe.” He paused. “Including me.”

She shut her eyes and knew he wasn’t joking. There was no point in trying to pretend she didn’t understand exactly who and what he