Chapter Thirty-One
Amelie
This room is filled with fairy lights and pillows, with a seriously chilled vibe. Onyx is sitting on a pillow playing with his phone, while Slate is lying on his side dressed as…a ninja? I can’t tell.
“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask him, gesturing to his skintight, all black outfit.
“Me? I’m a knife thrower.”
“I don’t see any knives,” I scoff.
Slate pounces to his feet and is pressed against my body in the blink of an eye, a lethal-looking blade held against my throat. Where did that come from? The cold metal bites against my flushed skin, but there’s no menace in Slate’s eyes. Only heat. Fuck, that’s hot.
“Look who I found,” Kalen announces unnecessarily. Slate releases me, looking me up and down, lust filling his eyes. “How hot is her outfit?”
I must say it is hot: white corset which threatens to make my boobs spill over the top, a very short skirt with a fluffy bunny tail attached, white stockings, white gloves and very cute bunny ears.
I guess, after the Halloween costume choice from Kalen, I should be glad that he included a skirt, rather than just a white satin thong.
The only thing bugging me, however, is how the hell I’m meant to run in this getup when the clock strikes midnight.
And of course, the blinding white of our costumes isn’t exactly inconspicuous for a midnight run through the woods.
I need to think about that. I have time to come up with something because one thing I know for sure is that when we have to run, I am not getting caught.
“I don’t think our costumes fit,” I tell Kalen.
He steps into my space, invading my senses as he runs his hands all over my outfit.
“I’d say it fits pretty perfect, sis.”
“I mean, we don’t fit with your theme. Who ever heard of rabbits at a circus?”
“The rabbits are for the dogs, sis. Didn’t you know you’re the hunted?” I scoff at his words but a frisson of fear shoots through my chest at his dark undertones.
“The circus is cool,” I say, changing the subject.
“Do you like it?” Kalen’s face lights up.
“Yeah, very ‘Greatest Showman’ vibes.”
“Oh, so you finally caught up with the rest of the world and watched it, did you?” Slate drawls from the cushions he’s sprawled back out on. It’s like he never moved, like he never sprang to his feet and held a knife to my throat in a sexy as hell ninja move.
“Yeah, well, if someone had shown me it last year when they promised, I wouldn’t have had to suffer through it with Elsie when I was on bed rest.”
“Order stuff came up. I apologised at the time.”
“Wait,” Kalen interrupts my standoff with Slate. “‘Suffer through it’ – you didn’t like it?!” He says it like I’ve just kicked a puppy. Which I would never, ever do. I smile thinking of the really cute way Marshmallow likes to lick my nose with his tiny tongue.
“I liked it the first time. But by the seventh, I was losing my damn mind,” I grumble. They chuckle.
“I bet you know all the words.”
“No,” I threaten as Kalen begins to hum the opening bars to the most annoying song. “Don’t you dare! Okay, so I have a question for you.”
Onyx eyes me warily.
“If it’s about The Order—”
“It’s not. So, I love the circus theme, like I said. But why aren’t there any clowns?”
This time Slate and Onyx give deep belly laughs and Kalen scowls at them.
“It’s not funny!”
“Oh, but it is,” Slate replies.
“Kalen here, has a teeny tiny phobia of clowns,” Onyx tells me with delight.
“You’re scared of clowns?” I frown. “I mean, I guess IT is pretty scary…”
“Oh no,” Onyx begins.
“Not those kind of clowns,” Slate continues.
“He’s scared of the regular, happy, funny, kid’s party kind of clowns,” Onyx finishes and they fall about laughing even harder. I crack a smile and a giggle slips free.
“You have to explain why,” I insist.
“Sure—”
“I’ll tell it! It’s my trauma, I mean story, after all!” Kalen interrupts.
With a lot of piss taking and interruptions, Kalen eventually manages to tell me the story of why he’s petrified of clowns. I’m wiping tears from my eyes and clutching my stomach by the time he finishes. My tummy hurts from laughing.
“Oh you think that’s funny do you?” Kalen growls, stalking towards me. He cracks his whip, the end lightly kissing my bare thigh with a sting before I’m crushed against his chest. Not gonna lie, that whip is hot. And where the hell did he learn to wield it like that?
“You need to bring that whip next time you sneak into my dorm,” I whisper in his ear.
“Yeah?” He grins, running the soft leather against my bare skin. “You like?”
“Mmmmm,” I give a throaty groan as I lean back my head to give Kalen access to my neck. He takes the hint and begins to kiss his way along my sensitive skin, still trailing the whip along my thigh. “I’ve told you before, you can be rougher with me.”
“Like BDSM and shit?” he whispers in my ear.
“Yeah,” I moan before kissing him. He grasps my hands and pulls them against his chest, trapping them as he wraps his arms tightly around my back.
“Like this?”
“How is this BDSM?” I frown.
“I’m restraining you, aren’t I?”
“Kalen, this is snuggling.” I snort back a laugh. He holds me tighter.
“Shut up, snuggleslut.”
I shake my head at his ridiculousness and a thought suddenly pops into my head. I wiggle against Kalen, working my hands free and wrapping them around his neck. Pulling him closer, I murmur against his lips, “Shut up and kiss me, you goofball.” Thankfully, he complies.
I deepen our kiss, pressing my body against his, gyrating to the music and grinding against him.
I’m practically dry humping him, but it’s okay because he’ll probably assume I licked a card at the entrance.
My behaviour isn’t any different to everyone else’s here.
Just a little less carefree, and a little more calculated.
Kalen’s hands slide round to cup my breasts, pulling them free of the corset and I let out a blissful sigh, both at his touch and at being free of the confines of the damn corset.
I need to force Kalen to wear one so that he knows what it feels like.
But then his fingers find my nipples and as he pulls and tweaks them, my knees buckle and I have to cling to him to stay standing.
I don’t even care that Slate and Onyx are with us, watching. If anything, it makes this hotter.
Just as Kalen’s mouth finds my hard nipple and his fingers slide under my short skirt and into my panties, a loud whistle blows, startling me back to my senses.
“W-what’s that?” I stammer.
“Ten-minute warning, it’s almost midnight,” Slate explains.
Shit. I need to get moving. I quickly push my breasts back into my corset – which isn’t easy, but I'm not about to ask for help.
“Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom before whatever brand of bat shit crazy Kalen has concocted is unleashed.” I make my excuses and leave.
They don’t follow me, probably needing this time to set up or fetch the dogs or whatever.
It doesn’t matter, it means my coast is clear to weave my way across the dance floor of gyrating bodies.
As soon as I spy Jasper and Elsie – thank god he’s tall – I march up to them.
“Jasper, I need your shirt. Now!” I snap. He doesn’t put up any fight, shrugging and pulling off the black tee to hand to me. Elsie giggles and slides closer to Jasper, running her hands all over his defined chest. It’s like I’m invisible to the two of them; they only have eyes for each other.
I race down one of the halls off the main tent, the one labelled toilets.
For the first time ever, there’s no queue for the ladies and I slip into a single stall and flip the lock.
Rushing, I strip myself of every item of clothing I have on before turning the faucet on full blast and hastily washing down my body.
The water is icy, but I don’t have time to wait for it to heat up.
I wonder if it’ll be enough, but then decide I’m not willing to risk it.
I load my hands with the liquid soap and dunk my head under the tap, vigorously washing it.
Wet hair at midnight on a late February night has to be a recipe for disaster, but I figure the guys won’t let me die of hypothermia, right?
I squeeze out the worst of the wet as best I can, before pulling it back in a messy bun and securing it with a band.
My hair will hate me for the rough treatment and nasty impromptu shampoo tomorrow, but some things – like pride – are more important.
My body is dry so I pull on the shirt. It’ll have to do.
There’s no way I’m running in white hooker heels either, so I keep my feet bare.
As I’m exiting the bathroom, a heavy hand clamps down on my shoulder and I jump out of my skin.
“Here.” A gruff voice hands me a pair of black trainers and I look up to see Frost scowling down at me. He doesn’t approve of whatever is about to happen, but he knows he can’t stop it.
“Thanks.” I pull the shoes on, impressed that they fit. Not to be a bitch, but would it have killed him to grab me some leggings or a jacket? Oh well. I hear another whistle blow and know that it’s time. I follow the hordes of people exiting the tent and allow myself to get swept up into the crowd.
The Ringmaster in his red and white getup and holding a flaming torch is easy to see in the dark, and I follow him deeper into the woods alongside everyone else.
When we come to a stop, I see Kalen, Onyx and Slate standing on a small podium overlooking us all.
Slate’s keen eyes scan the crowd, searching for me, but I duck down and use my crappy height to my advantage.
Smoke machines pump out hazy fog all around us, making the whole event even more eerie and creepy.
Thank fuck it’s not Halloween, I think I’d pee my pants.
If I was wearing any. I wasn’t about to take any chances with that bloody spray.