Carnival of Hearts: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (7 page)

The carnival found them a few hours later, just as dusk had begun to lighten the sky. They’d slept in each other’s arms, and then gotten dressed and simply waited, knowing the hunters would come. It was Liam and Baptiste, of course. The gigantic, black-eyed bruiser of a man and the lithe fox-faced tamer with his silver-tipped whip.

“Not much of a chase,” Liam remarked as they passed between the trees encircling the spot where they’d slept. “I’m kind of disappointed.”

As Marcus got to his feet, pulling Clara with him by the hand, he saw the flicker of Baptiste’s whip and issued a warning growl towards him.

The whip’s
snap
hit the air, but fell harmlessly to the grass in a countering message.

Liam held up a hand, looking at them. Marcus perceived his eyes traveling over them, and lingering, of course, on the blood that had dried on their mouths, and necks.

“You fool,” he said, eyes wide. “You marked her.”

Marcus felt the power of the mark scorching through his veins, and he smiled back at Liam. “Yes, I did.” He jabbed a finger at Baptiste. “If that whip hits the air again, I’m going to strangle him with it.”

“What’s your play here, Marcus?” Liam asked.

Marcus gritted his teeth and held tight to Clara’s hand. “You can take us back. I know those are your orders.”

Liam must have known then, Marcus reasoned. He must have known that Marcus was going to challenge D’Orfeo. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He couldn’t return empty-handed. So he gestured for Baptiste to put away the whip, and the smaller man did. Then he waved them forward and turned, leading them back towards the carnival grounds.

By the time they arrived at the big top, the whole carnival had gathered to watch them walk up the lane to the main tent. Marcus caught sight of Kat in the crowd and was relieved to see that she was unhurt, at least physically. He met Mabel’s eyes, too, as they walked to the big top, and saw the faintest flicker of pride touch one corner of the older woman’s mouth. Familiar faces, all, amassed outside, and there was Lucien D’Orfeo himself, waiting for them at the entrance to the big top. He’d abandoned shirt and tails and stood barefoot and bare-chested, in only his fitted black trousers, an expression of beautiful fury on his face.

Marcus squared his shoulders defiantly as they came to a stop before him.

“What is this bullshit?” D’Orfeo hissed at him.

“This is my mate, Ringmaster,” Marcus said, lifting his voice so that the gathered den could hear him. “You have no power over her. And none over me either.”

“You gave yourself to me willingly,” the Ringmaster snarled.

“And I’ve given myself to her now instead,” Marcus replied. “You are no longer my alpha. I repudiate you. I
challenge
you.”

“You sonovabitch.” D’Orfeo bared his teeth. “I should’ve killed you like I did your father. I should have left you to die with the pathetic remnants of your den.”

“But you didn’t,” Marcus snapped. “I challenge you.”

“Good!” D’Orfeo threw up his hands. “Excellent! Finally, a fight worthy of the Carnival D’Orfeo!”

“If I win,” Marcus said evenly, “we go free.”

D’Orfeo hissed at him behind his teeth. “If you lose, you die.”

Marcus felt Clara’s grip on his hand tighten. He looked at her and summoned up a reassuring smile. “I won’t lose.”

“You better not,” she whispered.

D’Orfeo shoved aside the entrance flap to the big top and prowled into the tent, and Marcus followed, drawing Clara along with him. The rest of the den filed in behind them. Marcus settled Clara in the stands with Kat and Mabel and the other den members and stepped into the performance ring opposite the Ringmaster.

Baptiste and Liam stood on the sidelines, and Marcus knew they were there to stop any of the other den members from intervening in any way. It came down to his strength versus D’Orfeo’s, as he had always known it would. But where before, he’d always felt a sense of great anxiety, of fear, at the thought of facing down the man who’d destroyed his people, now he felt nothing but determination and love and pride. The strength of the mark would see him through this.

The lights inside the big top dimmed on the stands, throwing the anxious, shifting crowd of den members into darkness. Shadows in scarlet and tangerine kissed the performance ring, brightening through the tent’s colors as the sun rose in the sky outside. D’Orfeo unbuttoned his trousers and shucked them off his legs, tossing them aside. Marcus climbed out of his jeans and did the same.

“Let the challenge for dominance begin!” Liam bellowed.

Marcus dove to the ground. His hands hit the sand, and he gave his heart over to the bear, felt his bones crunch and change, his skin receding beneath thick fur, as he shifted from his man skin to his bear skin. Across from him, he saw D’Orfeo do the same, but he knew the man was not shifting into a bear as he did. Wild tawny fur swept over the Ringmaster, gigantic paws with talon-like claws overtaking his hands and feet, and when it was done, he lifted his regal head and the lion let out an earth-devouring roar. Then he lunged, and Marcus lunged, and the two beasts slammed together in a flurry of claws and fangs, snarling and swiping and snapping as the fight began.

Clara covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide as she watched the Ringmaster transform into a
lion
. He was a freaking lion. And then the bear and the lion were tearing into each other, and she felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest, fear icing through her. It was all happening so fast, and so violently, that she was struggling to keep up with who was landing more blows and who was wounding who the worst. Blood began to splatter the sand of the performance ring.

“This is our way,” Mabel murmured to her. “This is the only way he’ll ever be free.”

“This is barbaric,” Clara hissed.

“Yes,” Mabel agreed. “We are a barbaric type of creature. It’s still our way.”

Clara started towards her feet. “I have to help him.”

But Mabel grabbed her arm and yanked her right back down into her seat, more strength to the woman than Clara would’ve given her credit for.

“You can’t help him that way,” Mabel said softly. “Focus on the mark, girl. Focus on the bond between the two of you. Give him strength.”

Clara pulled in a deep breath, staring at the two animals ripping each other apart. She tried not to look at the blood, not to hear the growls or the roars or the snarls. She focused her eyes on the bear, on her Marcus, and thought about how deeply she loved him. How she’d remembered him, waited for him, hoped for him. How she’d never given up, no matter how many times her friends told her he was never coming back. How she’d
known
, deep in her heart, that he would never forget her, that he would come back to her if he could. And he had. She thought about how they’d made love only a few hours before. She thought about the mark, about the pain and the pleasure of it, and then she felt it begin to warm on her throat.

That warmth spilled through her, lighting her up.

And suddenly the tide of the fight turned. Where before it had been impossible to tell who was winning, suddenly the bear was overpowering the lion. He rose up onto his hind legs and delivered a vicious swipe to the lion’s face, knocking the great cat into a tumble and roll across the sand. Before he could get his bearings, Marcus was on him, pinning him to the ground, and clamped his jaws on the lion’s throat.

Liam and Baptiste started into the ring, but Mabel rose from her seat.

“It’s done!” the bearded woman announced, holding up her hands. “It’s over, and if the two of you interfere, you shame our alpha. The fight for dominance is over, and he has lost.”

The two men stopped, looking up at her. After a moment’s clear hesitation, though, they stepped back to the edge of the ring once more.

Marcus released D’Orfeo and eased back from him. His eyes met Clara’s across the ring, and she felt her heart sing with triumph.

In a great gust of wind and swirl of sand, Marcus shifted back into the man that Clara knew. A few feet away, D’Orfeo shifted back into his man form as well and slowly started climbing to his hands and knees. Kat scrambled out of the stands and to her adopted father, getting his arm across her small shoulders to help him to his feet. Both men were bloody, bearing numerous cuts and bruises and deep slashes. Silence blanketed the den.

D’Orfeo turned, with Kat’s help, towards Marcus.

He waved a hand. “Be free,” he said, voice raspy with pain.

Marcus didn’t even respond to him, just leapt the edge of the ring and climbed through the crowd to Clara.

“Come on, love,” he said, with a smile for her that was private, eyes brimming with joy. She took his hand and he led her out of the stands, and out of the big top, and out of the carnival altogether, at last.

She stopped him at the edge of the fairgrounds and leaned up, kissing him. The warmth of the mark, all the power of it, had to go somewhere. She put it into that kiss. His arms came fast around her and he kissed her back fiercely.

“Wait!”

They turned in each other’s arms to see Kat running towards them, waving.

Clara saw Marcus frown. His arms stayed around her.

Kat came to a skidding stop in front of them and held out her hand, offering over what Clara realized was a set of keys. She blinked at the girl.

“Here,” Kat said, breathless, smiling. “Take my car. I don’t need it. Take it.”

Clara took the keys. “Kat, this is too much…”

Kat shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Get out of here. I have to go back and clean Dad up, but you guys earned your freedom. You can take the car. Be happy.”

Clara clutched the keys to her chest, more grateful than she could really express. She let go of Marcus and stepped over to Kat, hugging the girl warmly and tightly.

“Thank you.”

When Clara let go of her, Marcus slid past her and hugged Kat as well. He whispered something into her ear that Clara couldn’t hear, and then released her with a tired smile. Then he took Clara’s hand and pulled her towards the parking lot.

Clara looked back over her shoulder once and saw Kat standing on the edge of the carnival ground, waving goodbye to them.

Sooner rather than later, Clara and Marcus were married. He moved into the little apartment above the bar with her and got a job on one of the local fishing boats. Mariel and Daniel accepted him warmly into their little family and the four of them, plus Daniel’s wife and kids, spent years having barbecues on the beach and weekends on the boat and living relatively quiet, uneventful lives. Eventually Marcus met Clara’s parents and helped her begin to rebuild her relationship with them, one holiday at a time.

Three years after escaping the carnival, Clara emerged from the bathroom one morning with a little plastic stick in her hands and a wide-eyed, astonished look on her face.

Marcus was standing at the kitchen counter, flipping through the newspaper as he drank his morning cup of coffee. He looked up when she walked into the kitchen, saw her face, and saw the stick in her hands.

“Clara?” He almost dropped the cup of coffee.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, staring at him. “Marcus, I’m pregnant.”

Marcus grinned, abandoned the coffee and the newspaper, and went to her. He hauled her right up into his arms and spun her in circles in their little kitchen, laughing.

“This is the best news ever, Mrs. Zane,” he told her, brushing his nose to hers.

“Yes,” she agreed, smiling hugely. “Oh my god, yes. It is. We’re having a baby.”

Marcus kissed her, and she kissed him, and they stood there entwined in each other’s arms in the kitchen, kissing, for maybe minutes or hours, they didn’t care.

When Marcus finally set her feet on the floor again, he cradled her face in his hands and stood there just looking at her for a while.

“I love you so much,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” she said, smile helpless and delighted. Then it flickered. “Marcus, do you want to…go home?”

He faltered, his own smile fading. “What?”

“To
your
home,” Clara said softly. “To your home where your people are, where you’re from. Our baby…should know his or her father’s home. Don’t you think?”

Marcus hesitated. “You would do that? You would go back there with me?”

“I would go anywhere with you,” Clara promised him. “And if our baby is like you, I want it to have a den. To have family like you, like yours.”

“I could rebuild the den,” Marcus said, nodding. “I could try to.”

“
We
would build it,” Clara said, smile resurfacing. “Together.”

Marcus grinned fiercely at her again and bent down, catching the backs of her knees and scooping her right up into his arms. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re not the only alpha in this house.” Clara laughed.

Marcus laughed too. “No, ma’am, I am clearly not.”

He turned, carrying her into the bedroom, and spilled her right down onto their bed, kissing her into the pillows. They both called in sick that day and spent the hours together in bed, making love and laughing and planning the future of their family.

The Carnival D’Orfeo still travels the same circuit. It passes through the same towns, or near enough, every two or three years. It is famous in some parts for its spectacular big top show, in which a notably slender tamer performs incredible tricks with a fierce, powerful lion. It is famous in other parts, to other people, for the diverse number of individuals who travel with it, who live in the shadow of the big top. Like all carnivals, it has its mysteries and its mystique. Its oddities and its marvels. And its dangers.