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Finally, though, the show was over and everyone in the stands rose to their feet. They ambled out, talking and laughing, marveling over what they had seen, speculating about how certain things were done.

When the last body cleared the door, the performers offered up their own cheer, breaking out the hard liquor they’d made in their own trailers rather than any kind of champagne. Jecis was in the center of them, drinking in their praise.

Now was her chance.

Vika snuck out the back of the tent and raced to her trailer. Once there, she locked herself inside. Jecis had a key, but even if he decided to use it, the lights would flicker on and off, alerting her to his presence.

She exchanged her high heels for boots, but didn’t bother taking the time to change out of her dress. Not yet. If her father spotted her, she wanted him to think she was just out and about, intending to enjoy herself with the other performers. That way, he would be less inclined to stop her or even talk to her.

Well, it’s about time, a voice said.

X!

“I know,” she said. “Better late than never.”

Hands trembling, she stuffed as many necklaces, bracelets, and trinkets as possible into the largest bag she could carry. She ignored the chocolates, but also grabbed the cameras her mother had loved—besides the blade, they were all she had left of the woman who’d given birth to her, and she couldn’t force herself to leave them behind. There was barely any room for a sweatshirt and winter pants, but they were necessary, so she crammed them in.

“Did you know there wasn’t a key to the cuffs?” she asked, recalling the times he’d told her to grab Solo and go now rather than later.

No. I simply had a knowing that you needed to leave without worrying about the cuffs.

Before donning her coat, she put on several pieces of jewelry that hadn’t made the cut for the bag. Six necklaces, seventeen bracelets. Rings on every finger. What a sight she must be.

“Well, I wish you would have told me,” she said.

I did. Several times.

“Why not several more?”

Why not listen the first time?

A point she could not refute. “All right, I’m ready to go.” The bag was almost too heavy to lug, but lug it outside she did. Cold air instantly enveloped her, the heat of her breath causing a fine mist to form in front of her face.

“Do you know where Solo is?” she whispered.

I do. He’s in the same tent as before. The one for the petting zoo.

Suppressing a groan, she flattened herself against the side of the trailer, hiding in the darkness, waiting and listening the only way she could. Thankfully, there was no vibration at her feet.

Before you save the day, X said, you’ll need to steal Solo some clothing. He’s currently naked.

“All right.”

You’ll need a few other things, too.

As if she would argue with him about anything ever again. “Just tell me what to get, and I’ll make it happen.”

He rattled off a list of what seemed to be ridiculous items, and she swallowed another groan.

“All right,” she repeated. Heart hammering, she raced forward.

Twenty-three

For you have girded me with strength for battle. You have subdued under me those who rose up against me.

—PSALM 18:39

SOLO HAD LOST TRACK of time. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been bound to this wheel. He only knew his arms and legs were numb, tied as they were to the board, and that people had eventually stopped coming into the tent. Staring at him. Stroking his flesh as if he were a tame little house cat. Rousing the beast inside him to a fever pitch.

The otherworlders around him were quiet. Not because they were muzzled—they weren’t—but because they were in shock, still utterly humiliated, still reeling about all that had happened, about how vulnerable they’d been.

He couldn’t do this again. He would rather die.

Even now, his fingers were curled into fists, his claws slicing into his palms. His blood was hot, so hot, tongues of fire licking through his veins. Something even hotter had been pooling in both of his bound wrists, but now, in the face of his burgeoning resentment, that heat spread. The cuffs had just sped into another level.

No matter what you have to do, stay in control. He would tolerate nothing less. He just had to . . . what? Since the death of his parents, he’d had no luck with his temper. Not until Vika, who would have teased him and—

Vika. Where was she?

He pictured her, his sweet, kind Vika, and his fingers actually uncurled. He pictured her peering up at him, her lips swollen and glistening from his kisses, her eyes wide with bafflement and need, and his muscles relaxed.

To be with her, he could do this again. He could do anything.

I will have that woman. One day. Soon. Often.

And when that “one day” came, he would make her forget her aversion to the words.

“You deserve this, you know,” said Dr. E.

Right on time to try and revive Solo’s anger.

“No, you deserve what’s about to happen. Rescue.”

And there was X, here to build him up.

“Where were you guys while I was in the Nolands?” he demanded quietly, the words muffled by the muzzle across his mouth. “Wait. Rescue?”

A moment later, Vika raced into the tent. She was dressed in a glorious red dress, and he forgot his questions. Her arms were covered by a thick black coat, but the material was split in the middle and he could see that the top of her gown scooped low enough to reveal a hint of cle**age. The bottom was so long it swept across the floor, curling around her feet as if it were enchanted mist. The material clung to her every curve, and her body . . . it was a work of art. Small and lush, with hips that flared into a heart.

Her. She’s mine, he thought. He didn’t need X’s help anymore, not for this. He’d already realized that, yeah, but now the knowledge swirled where instinct beat with a heart of its own. Never again would he allow her to walk away from him.

She reached him, dropped the bag she was holding. Expression pale and pinched despite the bright makeup she wore, she immediately tried to undo the metal bars draped over his cuffs, pulling and tugging.

“We’re leaving tonight,” she said. “Now. No matter what we have to do.” But no matter how valiantly she struggled, she couldn’t remove the obstacles. “Argh! What should I do?”

He opened his mouth to answer, not sure she would be able to understand him, but she stiffened.

“Shh!” She raced behind the wheel, out of sight.


Tags: Gena Showalter Otherworld Assassin Science Fiction