Chapter 8 Jules
JULES
Iswipe on more mascara, making sure to coat all my lashes. I don’t know what I’m more nervous about—being alone with a possible killer or being alone with the man who made me come in a semi-public place with his hand on my throat. But I can see my pulse racing, fluttering at my neck.
Turning my head, I admire the very faint fingerprints he left behind. My pussy clenches at the memory of Elias’s fingers, his filthy, outrageous words, that unhinged sharpness to his gaze.
“What are you doing, Jules?” I ask myself. My eyes are wild, excited. I’ve never seen myself like this.
I should cancel.
But I won’t.
Because no one has ever pushed all my buttons at the same time like that. One evening with Elias and I’m an addict.
I grab my phone and keys, take one last look in the mirror, and exit my little bungalow house. My Harley’s waiting for me, and I pat the seat before straddling it. I put on my gloves and helmet with practiced motions, and I’m off… to the carnival.
The engine roars to life beneath me, a familiar vibration that settles my nerves even as it stokes everything else.
I pull out onto the darkening road, the last of the town’s streetlights thinning behind me as I head toward Marrow Falls.
The air is cool against my jacket, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine.
The road curves through stretches of forest and open farmland, the beam of my headlight cutting a clean path through the dark.
I lean into each bend, muscle memory taking over, my thoughts slipping away.
Riding has always been my reset—speed and balance, nothing else allowed in my head.
But tonight, Elias keeps intruding anyway.
His voice. His eyes. The way he said my name like it belonged to him.
A pair of towns blur past—sleepy places with closed diners and flickering gas stations, porch lights glowing.
I picture him waiting for me in his trailer.
Maybe cooking dinner. Probably thinking of the ways he’s going to rock my world.
I should be cataloging facts, forming questions, planning angles.
Instead, my pulse syncs with the engine, climbing as the road signs start pointing toward the carnival.
I crest a small hill, and there it is—the glow on the horizon.
Gold and red lights pulsing against the night, music riding the wind in broken snatches.
The Seven Sins Carnival. Even from here, it feels like a gravity well, pulling me closer whether I want it to or not.
I roll on the throttle, heart thudding, knowing I’m not just riding toward a story.
I’m riding straight back into temptation.
The carnival looks exactly like it did the previous couple of days—excited teenagers chasing thrills, adults on dates giving each other moon eyes, busy food stalls, long queues. It’s me who’s changed under the attention of its ringmaster.
I walk past the attractions open to the public to the back, where I know the carnival workers stay in their trailers. This time, I have permission to be here. When I’m chasing a lead, I always walk with purpose, acting as if I belong. When that’s actually true, though, there’s a lot less anxiety.
One of the idling mechanics sidles up next to me. “Are you looking for me, sweetheart?”
I smile at him—he’s around my height and easy on the eyes in that boy-next-door way. But I got a taste of the dark side wrapped in a gorgeous package with a ribbon made of charisma.
“I’ve got a date with Elias,” I say, then wink at him. “Though if he fumbles me, I’ll meet you right here.”
The mechanic laughs, a pleasant sound. “Right, right, the blue hair. Should have known. Boss’s trailer is the big one at the edge of the forest, right by the fence.”
I look around, considering the fence that runs around the whole carnival.
“What’s with that thing anyway? Must be a pain to set up, then take down, and set up again wherever you go?”
The mechanic shrugs, hands in his pocket. He really is cute.
“Keeps the wildlife out. Slows down thieves too. We have security patrolling all night. You can break in, but you won’t be getting out the same way.”
Something about those words sends a shiver down my spine.
“Makes sense,” I murmur, fighting to keep my smile from sliding off my face. “I’m Jules, by the way.”
“Jack,” he replies, beaming. “Have fun with the boss. Let me know if you need me to break the Ferris wheel for an hour.”
I can feel a blush creep up my neck. Does everyone in this carnival know their boss is doing the nasty with the blue-haired local girl? Hopefully not the clowns.
“Bye, Jack,” I murmur as I give him a little wave.
“See you around, Jules.”
Will he? The carnival’s not in town for long. And maybe this thing between the ringmaster and me will fizzle out before that.
God, I hope not. The man plays my body like he plays the crowd: with consummate skill.
Elias’s trailer is larger and darker than the rest, all clean lines and low light, sitting at the edge of the forest like it belongs there. I take one last deep breath, then raise my hand to knock. Before my knuckles make contact, the trailer door swings open.
The ringmaster outfit is nowhere in sight.
Elias is wearing a fitted black button-down shirt.
The top two buttons are undone, exposing skin I want to lick, and his sleeves are rolled to mid-forearm, showing off toned muscles.
Black jeans cling to his strong thighs, and I gulp at the sight of the bulge in the front.
“You look good enough to eat,” I blurt out, unthinking. Or maybe thinking out loud.
Elias’s smirk incinerates my panties—why did I even bother wearing any?
“How about you have some steak first?” he says in a voice that wraps around my ovaries. “Then I’ll gladly let you have your fill, Jewel.”
I refrain from making a joke about his meat, though I’ve kept questionable company so often that dirty humor is pretty much ingrained in me.
“Let’s see what you have, Romeo,” I tease him.
He moves to let me pass, but as I do, he grabs my arms and pulls me in for a devastating kiss. It’s over before my world tilts back to normal, and I blink at him in a daze.
“Just an appetizer,” he whispers against my lips, then smiles as he helps me find my balance.
Smug asshole.
I clear my throat.
Remember why you’re here, Jules. The story. Don’t forget about the story.
“Well, I have high expectations now,” I say in my best seductive voice. It comes out low and raspy, like I didn’t work hard to quit smoking two years ago and am back to inhaling a pack a day.
The trailer’s small, so I don’t have far to walk to get to the already-set table. I take a look around with professional—and admittedly also personal—interest.
There’s a kitchen area to the left of the entrance, surprisingly well-equipped with a stove, dishwasher, sink, cupboards, and a decent amount of counter space.
Opposite the kitchen is what looks like a wardrobe.
The table is booth-style, with dark leather seating on three sides.
Opposite is a heater and chairs folded against the wall under the window—clearly he holds some meetings here or entertains guests.
The right side of the trailer has two doors, slightly ajar.
Through one, I can glimpse a bed with dark sheets, and through the other bathroom tiles.
I note the storage drawers near the doors with interest—that looks like it could hold papers, documents… clues.
“It’s not much,” Elias says, pulling me back to the present. “Living in a traveling carnival demands minimalism.”
I snort. “Which is supremely ironic, seeing how utterly un-minimalistic everything outside is.”
“Is it the clowns? It’s the clowns, isn’t it?” Elias jokes as he reaches out to grab my jacket.
“Definitely the clowns,” I agree sagely.
Sitting at the table, watching him plate our food, it feels so normal. Like I’m a normal girl, on a normal date, with a normal guy… not a carnival ringmaster who practices erotic asphyxiation dozens of feet off the ground. And not like I’m here to uncover a salacious story. The contrast is jarring.
The steak he made is perfectly cooked, the potatoes prepared just right.
“This is amazing,” I gush, struggling to eat slowly and not stuff my face—which is what I normally do when something is delicious.
“Thank you, Jules,” Elias says quietly. He has a peculiar expression on his handsome face as he watches me eat. Almost like he’s struggling with something.
“So…” I begin, picking up my wineglass. “You’re the boss here, right? So you’re the one who chooses where to go next?”
Elias’s pale eyes narrow infinitesimally, but he nods, and I wonder if I may have just imagined it.
“What makes you pick a place? Do you throw darts at a map?”
He laughs at my guess, leaning back into his seat.
“No. We have Cole throw knives instead,” he deadpans.
“I guess Cole is the knife guy, eh?” I question casually. “How did you find all these talented people? The shows you have are incredible.”
Elias’s smile turns a bit brittle. “We’ve known each other all our lives,” he says with what looks like feigned nonchalance.
I decide not to push him more right now. There’s an edge in his eyes that looks sharp enough to fillet me into tiny pieces if I dare overstep.
“Are you done eating, Little Sapphire?”
I nod numbly, caught in the spell of his eyes, the low rumble of his voice.
“Good.”
Elias’s hands disappear under the tabletop, and I hear the unmistakable sounds of a belt buckle opening. My thighs clench together with want.
“Then get on your knees and suck my dick like a good girl.”