Page 35 of One for the Money
I’ve seen that haunted look before.
But I was young then, and I didn’t have the power to intervene, as much as I wanted to. Our parents did what they could, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.
Eventually, the ghosts of my past lay themselves to rest, and I give up my vigil outside of her trailer. I don’t know if I was protecting her from someone, or just trying to appease my Alpha instincts that growl and snarl that she needs help, but either way, there’s nothing else I can do here.
I turn away, only to hear a strangled cry from the trailer.
I can’t go in.
I can’t.
I can’t violate her safety by barging in unwelcome, even though the master key to all the trailers is burning a hole in my pocket.
But I have never felt anything like the visceral desire to throw that door open and comfort her—the all-encompassing feeling of need to get her in my arms.
I don’t think she realizes just how thin the walls of these trailers are. If she did, I doubt she’d let her guard down at all.
There is no way she’d be okay with anyone here knowing she was crying.
Another cry, and then a thump, like she fell out of bed, has my resolve cracking. What if she’s injured? She may need medical attention. She could have hit her head.
But then a light comes on inside, dispelling that theory, and I high-tail it out of there, not wanting to be caught creeping on the pretty Omega doctor.
The pretty Omega doctor who has demons that I have met before haunting her.
Maybe she is supposed to be here. She should fit right in.
We’re all a little fucked up here.
“Are you sure, boss?”Matteo asks, finally looking up from his notebook. I can’t tell who he’s sketching, his fingertips dusted with charcoal, but I have an idea if that slim jawline is any indication. “He’s just been in a lot of pain lately, and I don’t want to push him.”
“If you guys aren’t comfortable doing it, then no, but I think the crowd is ready for it. You’ve been practicing, right?”
He sighs and rubs his eyes. “Yeah, but that’s differentthan an audience and you know it. I can’t exactly ease him into subspace with an audience watching.”
“Why not?” The look he gives me makes me want to shrink inside myself, despite being nearly twice as big as the Beta.
Quinton and Matteo have an incredibly dangerous act as it is. Still, what I’m asking him to do, the combination of body suspension and sword swallowing, can end up disastrous if it’s not done correctly.
Hooks and rings are inserted through Quinton’s skin, and then his body is lifted by a pulley system, suspended from the beams of the tent by just his flesh. And then Matteo is responsible for feeding him the sword, something that is usually done by his own hand.
It gives me the heebie jeebies, but I’d never say that out loud. It does make for an incredible act, though.
“Because subspace takes time, time we won’t have if he’s got to do the rest of the act first. If he’s not in subspace, he’s not relaxed enough unless he’s high out of his mind, and he cannot swallow swords and keep his body still enough when suspended while high.”
The he in question, Quinton, is high as fuck right now, sitting there blinking at the roof of the tent like we’re not talking about him. His torn jeans and worn t-shirt reek with a skunky scent.
“Whyishe so high right now?” I ask Matteo, dropping my voice a few levels.
“He’s feeling worse lately. Headaches, body aches. It’s like he has the flu, but on steroids. I don’t know how long this can continue to go on.” Matteo rubs his eyes, like he didn’t get any sleep. He clearly loves the Alpha in a way anyone would be lucky to experience. They’ve been together for years, since before they came to the circus, and not only are they lovers, but there is a friendship there thatis unshakable. They look out for each other and take care of one another.
They’re family.
“It’s gotten worse since we took Alex nest shopping and he hung out with her instead of going to the cookout.”
I wrinkle my nose at the admission. I knew about the cookout thing, but the nest part is new. It’s not at all what I expected him to say. “Why did you take her nest shopping?”
“She needed to go. Didn’t have shit, if the amount of stuff she bought is any indication.” He flips a page in his notebook and continues to sketch. I don’t hold it against him. I know he’s still paying attention to our conversation. Sometimes, he has to multitask to pay attention, as backwards as that sounds.
