Page 3 of Taming the Lion
Sophia narrows her eyes slightly, reading between the lines, and for a split second, I see a flicker of something else—something vulnerable beneath that fierce exterior. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the walls she’s so carefully constructed.
“You’ve got everyone here eating out of your hand,” she continues, her voice like a blade, sharp and cutting. She steps closer, her gaze never leaving mine. “I suppose that’s what you’re good at—charming the crowd.”
I smirk, letting the corner of my mouth lift just enough to show I’m not rattled by her words. “And what about you? Are you charmed, Sophia?”
Her name tastes good on my tongue, and I can see the way it affects her. Her breath hitches ever so slightly, her eyesnarrowing further. She’s not used to being challenged like this, not used to someone seeing through her armor.
“Don’t play games with me, Alex,” she warns, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. But there’s no heat in her words, only a thinly veiled curiosity. She’s intrigued, and she hates that she is.
“I’m not the one playing games,” I counter, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between us. I can feel the heat radiating off her body, matching the fire that still simmers beneath my skin. My gaze dips to her lips, the memory of our earlier eye contact flashing in my mind, the way the world seemed to slow when our eyes locked. “But if I were, I’d make sure we both won.”
She scoffs, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, one she quickly suppresses. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?” she murmurs, more to herself than to me.
“Depends on what you’re looking for,” I reply, my voice dropping an octave. “Sometimes trouble’s exactly what you need.”
There’s a beat of silence, the air between us crackling with unspoken words, unacknowledged desire. I can see the battle in her eyes, the way she’s fighting against whatever it is that’s pulling us together. She’s good at hiding it, at pretending she’s unaffected, but I know better. I can see through her defenses, and I think she knows it too.
Sophia steps back, just enough to create some distance, but it feels like a retreat. “I don’t need anything from you,” she says, her voice firmer now, back to that sharp edge she wields so well.
“Maybe not,” I concede, though I don’t believe it for a second. I can see the way her hands tremble slightly, the way she can’t quite look away from me. “But I’m here if you change your mind.”
I walk past her, feeling her gaze burn into my back, the tension between us still thick, unresolved. I know this isn’t the end, just the beginning of something we’re both too stubborn to admit is happening. She’s a challenge, one I shouldn’t take on, but I’m already too far gone to back down.
As I disappear into the shadows of the backstage, I can’t help but wonder what it will take to break through those walls she’s built so high. And whether I’m ready for what lies on the other side.
Sophia’s going to make me work for it. And damn if I’m not looking forward to every second of it.
Chapter Three
Sophia
The sun isn’t up yet, but the circus is already alive with chaos. The usual morning calm is shattered by frantic voices and hurried footsteps. I step out of my trailer, the cool morning air slapping me awake, but it’s not enough to shake the unease settling in my gut. Something is wrong.
“Rajah’s missing!”
The words cut through the early dawn like a knife. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. Rajah. That damn tiger. He’s not just another animal; he’s a symbol, a legacy. Dante’s pride and joy. If he’s gone, it’s more than a loss—it’s a message. And it’s not a good one.
I start moving, my legs carrying me before my mind catches up. Performers and crew are already scouring the grounds, their faces pale with fear and confusion. Whispers of sabotage, betrayal, and theft buzz in the air, feeding the growing panic. This isn’t just a financial blow—it’s a violation, an attack on everything the circus stands for.
Dante’s voice booms over the chaos, barking orders, demanding answers. But no one has any. The tension is thick, and I can feel it gnawing at the edges of my composure. Rajahmight be the prized tiger, but my thoughts are on Zeus. My Zeus. If Rajah can disappear, then Zeus could be next.
A wave of protectiveness washes over me, sharp and fierce. I push through the crowd, ignoring the questions, the worried glances. My only thought is getting to Zeus, making sure he’s safe. The idea of losing him—no, I can’t go there. I won’t.
The morning fog hangs low, clinging to the ground like a bad omen as I navigate the maze of tents and wagons. Every rustle of leaves, every distant noise, seems amplified, setting my nerves on edge. My breath comes faster, my heart pounding in my chest as I reach the animal enclosure.
“Please,” I whisper to myself, the word a desperate plea as I round the corner.
When I see Zeus, a wave of relief crashes over me, nearly bringing me to my knees. He’s there, lying in his enclosure, his golden eyes watching me with that familiar, steady gaze. But the relief is fleeting, replaced quickly by a gnawing fear. If someone could take Rajah, they could come for Zeus next.
I drop to my knees in front of the gate, my hands trembling as I check the locks. They’re secure, but it’s not enough. I tighten them, reinforce them, every motion fueled by a growing sense of dread. My fingers fumble slightly, betraying the fear I’m trying so hard to keep at bay.
Zeus watches me, calm and unbothered, but there’s an alertness in his gaze that tells me he senses the tension too. He’s my rock, my constant in a world that often feels like it’s spinning out of control. Losing him isn’t an option. It’s not something I can even let myself consider.
As I work, my mind races, cycling through possibilities. Who could have taken Rajah? And why? It doesn’t feel random—it feels calculated, deliberate. The fear that this is just the beginning of something much darker lodges in my chest, refusing to budge.
And then there’s Alex. Damn him. My thoughts keep circling back to him, no matter how much I try to push them away. He’s been a steady presence since he arrived, calm in the midst of the storm, and I hate that I’m drawn to that calm, to him. I don’t want to rely on anyone, least of all a man I barely know, but I can’t shake the feeling that I might need his help. And that frustrates me to no end.
I stand, my hands still shaking as I take one last look at Zeus. He’s safe, for now. But the anxiety gnaws at me, the fear that it won’t last. That I can’t do this alone.
