Chapter 3
Halvard
It was her. Damn it, Sally was right. How could she be right? I didn’t deserve this. I was cursed; my talents had turned sour years ago, weighing me down rather than empowering me. I could not have a woman—I did not deserve a mate—when every minute in my presence risked turning her to stone. She had already proven to be particularly sensitive to my gaze. I had turned her to stone even i my tinted, enchanted lenses. She had returned to flesh and blood quickly, but I had seen the moment she froze in place.
Then I’d done the stupidest thing I might have ever done in my entire life: succumb ed to temptation. She had pricked her finger on one of Nakusha’s knives, right there at the bottom of the knife - throwing wheel. I’d grabbed her slender wrist by instinct and brought that bloody finger to my mouth. Our fates were sealed now ; my beastly side had her taste, her scent. I could never let her go, and when I risked one last look in to her wide brown eyes, I knew she didn’t want me to.
I stepped away from the knife - throwing wheel, put ting that part of my act behind me as though it hadn’t happened. I was in control now, direct ing my still - stunned woman to the center of the ring and announc ing to the crowd what I was going to do next. There was no way I could bring myself to turn her to stone again ; that was so inherently wrong that I did n’ t want to risk it. Once was enough, and I count ed myself lucky that she did n’ t look terrified but stunned and enthralled instead. “Another volunteer ! One who isn’t afraid of a little magic . I need a strong man who thinks he can resist the power of my gaze. Who here thinks he can avert my magic and refuse to turn to stone?”
As always, there were plenty of eager men willing to test their mettle — men who thought they saw through the tricks of this carnival , w ho thought they could resist the magic and shadow that clung to everything like a second skin. I picked three specimens : men from all walks of life. A bodybuilder, because it always looked extra dramatic when even someone as strong as that could not lift so much as a finger. A man in a suit , because everyone liked to see the rich humiliated. Last ly, I picked an average Joe to make sure that every single man in that audience could identify with what they were about to see.
My woman , with her lovely freckles , stood next to me. A flush of red color ed her cheeks, her knees shook , and I had to keep hold of her slender wrist or she’d bolt. I savored the silkiness of her skin and the rapid pounding of her pulse beneath my thumb as I made these men line up in front of me. Then it was time for the final part of my act. I braced myself because this was always the unpleasant part —unpleasan t only because I could no longer control it the way I used to. “Look into my eyes and resist my magic,” I drawled dramatically. T hen I lowered my ensorcelled sunglasses and stared each male in the eye, one by one. “My lovely assistant will now try to move each of them. Go on,” I said to my woman, and finally , I let my fingers slip from her wrist.
She was beginning to turn pale rather than flushed pink from her awkwardness in the spotlight. Still, she performed her task exactly as she should , t ouching each man by the arm and trying to move them . W hen that didn’t work , I suggested our strong man g i ve it a go . Boris lumbered out of the back to give the stone-turned men a good but very useless shake. My ability to freeze them had given each male a gray cast to their skin, but their eyes were wide and panicked in their faces. They saw and heard everything, but they could n either breathe n or feel the pounding of their heart s . I n this state , they did neither — it was a form of suspended animation.
Terror wafted from their stone shapes, thick tendrils curling into the air. It was a power source for the Carnival ; everything here fed on that kind of fear. Even I felt the jolt of it as it thrummed through the air between us. Oddly enough, my beautiful brunette was beginning to look calmer by the minute , as if she w ere getting used to being at my side — to being in the spotlight with me.
“Come on, anyone else think they can move these men —t hese statues of mine? Or shall I release them from my grasp?” I asked the crowd. Several young adults leaped eagerly into the ring at that challenge, but they soon admitted defeat with laughter and slaps on the shoulders. By the time they had returned to their seats, the effects of my gaze finally began to wear off, and first one , th e n the other spluttered back to life and bolted from the ring as if the hounds of hell were on their heels.
That was my cue to let my woman go, but I couldn’t let her slip from my grasp without so much as knowing her name. “A round of applause for my volunteers,” I called to the crowd, and they supplied it eagerly—thrilled to have been entertained, and glad to laugh at the fear I’d instilled in my victims. I used the cover of that noise to glance at her from the corner of my eye. “What’s your name, darling?” I asked. She did not reply, only staring at me with wide eyes and her pink mouth slightly open. “Why don’t you meet me at the side entrance, and I’ll show you around? Would you like that? I am Halvard, at your service.” I dipped into a bow, as much for the audience as for her, but she slipped from my grasp like water.
I watched her go with regret in my heart, but I knew this wouldn’t be the last I’d see of her. I had tasted her blood ; that was enough to tie u s together. All I had to do to find her was close my eyes and search for her. I did just that, still standing in the ring as the ringmaster’s disembodied voice shouted accolades and announced the next act. Dipping into a bow by instinct, my focus was entirely on the pull I felt inside my chest.
***
Camryn
I sank low in my seat the moment I reached it, my face on fire and my heart pounding. Thrilled, excited, wowed by these acts? Yeah, no kidding. I was all of those things — but meeting Halvard the Stone Freak was in a league all its own . Not only was his act pretty cool ( it really had felt like he’d turned people to stone somehow ), but he was also potently hot. And he’d asked me to come see him, to meet him at the side gate for a private tour. If Lis knew, she’d make me go, so I was going to keep my mouth shut and make up my mind in private first.
Did I want to see him again? Did I want to feel that kind of crazy desire at first sight? I had done that once, and it hadn’t turned out so great for me. The attraction to Thorne had soured so fast when we’d proven to be wholly incompatible in virtually every way. Fear crawled up my spine , and i t had nothing to do with the creepy act an illusionist was putting on right now. Remembering Thorne always made me feel that way — sick to my stomach, ashamed. Lis didn’t know how bad it was — just that we’d broken up, that he was an ass, and that I didn’t want to date.
Considering my past experience, my risk-averse nature wanted to tell me to stay the hell away from Halvard. He was a Stone Freak in a carnival, a traveling performer who would leave as soon as the carnival left. There was no future in a relationship with a man like that. My mind latched onto that : no future. It was quick, harmless, just fun. Maybe that was exactly what I needed — a rebound guy, a stranger to shake things up. I was certain that was a plan Lis would approve of.
“So,” my friend whispered, leaning close to make herself heard over the sounds of the act and the audience , “ d id that sexy man talk to you ? D id he say anything? You sure got close. Come on! Spill the beans, I’m dying here…” It was a miracle she’d lasted this long without asking, a s she’d practically been bouncing in her seat the entire time. Patience was not a virtue Lis had in spades, and it made me smile, the weird fog of fear falling away.
“Yeah, he invited me to go see him after the show… Private tour…” I said. My friend squealed, loud enough to make several people around us hush us with angry stares. Thankfully , the illusionist ignored us, though I was certain it had disrupted his concentration. “Yes, I am going , ” I agreed . W hen Lis opened her mouth, it tilted into a very satisfied grin instead —w ide and smug , like the Cheshire C at.
“Good,” was all she said. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good ; it was going to be spectacular.