Carnival of Hearts: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (9 page)

“Kat!” he cried, prowling right up to her and grabbing her in a fierce hug.

She hugged him back. “Dad,” she breathed. “Hi, you’re okay! What just happened? I—there’s one in the fun house, hurt. A wolf. And I hurt my foot.”

Baptiste came slinking into view behind her father, whip in hand.

D’Orfeo nodded and then bent at the knees, scooping Kat up into his arms. “Baptiste, get the wolf into a cage. Kat, we’ll take you to Mabel and see about your foot.”

Kat didn’t resist her father’s arms. “Is everyone all right?”

“Mostly.” D’Orfeo turned to carry her away from the fun house.

“Who were they?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet,” D’Orfeo murmured darkly. “But I’m going to find out.”

By the time Max could focus enough through the pain to determine where he was, he’d shifted out of his wolf skin and into his man skin. A reflex, he figured, since it had been the wolf who’d been hurt, and thus the animal retreated back into his heart, leaving him naked and in agony. His mind was a kaleidoscope of images and thoughts and sensations: running through the woods on the hunt with his pack, the alpha’s call to war ringing through the trees. The scent of the girl he’d chased into that dark structure, and then the girl herself, how she’d looked at him after he’d broken the mirror all over the two of them. Problematically, she was beautiful, and now he couldn’t get the memory of her face out of his head, or the scent of her, a mix of grass and sunlight, out of his nose.

They’d put him in a cage. He saw the bars as soon as he opened his eyes, and felt the clean straw beneath his cheek. He also felt the tightness of a bandage around his midsection and wondered why they’d bothered to patch him up instead of just killing him outright. Thomas, his alpha, would have ripped out the throats of a surviving attacker if given the chance.

Max hoped that the rest of the pack had made it back into the woods without any casualties. That made him the only captive, and a lone wolf was ever so much more dangerous than one with underlings to protect, or alphas to serve. He was imagining how he would get out of the cage and kill everyone in the carnival when he caught the drift of sunlight and grass on the wind and knew that the girl was standing on the other side of the cage. He lifted his head just enough to see her through the bars.

Still beautiful. Something about the way the big top lights struck the wild black curls of her hair stirred him, along with the determined glimmer in the depths of her bright green eyes. He could just make out the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, dotting up the arches of her cheekbones. He gritted his teeth, struggling towards his hands and knees. Pain spiked into his side and he growled. The girl took a step back from the bars of the cage. Max remained lying on his side.

“Why did you attack us?” she asked. He didn’t look at her again.

And he didn’t answer her. It had been Thomas’s decision. They hadn’t even realized the carnival was passing through, but then they’d caught the scent. Such a wild mixture of shifter smells had driven Thomas into a rage when he had discovered it so close to their territory. The attack had been instinct-driven and spontaneous. But Max suspected that Thomas would rally the pack to attack again, and next time it would be planned, and probably successful.

“You can tell me, or you can tell Baptiste’s silver whip,” the girl went on. “That’s what’s going to happen. They don’t know I came to see you first.”

He felt another snarl bubble up in his throat.

“Sure, growl all you want,” the girl snapped. “But it won’t help you.
I
could help you. I probably shouldn’t, because you tried to
kill
me, but I will because I’m a nice person and I don’t like seeing people suffer.”

Max considered her words, and considered her scent. She was human, not shifter. What was she doing with all these weird creatures? He sighed.

“My alpha caught all the scents and went berserk,” he muttered. “So we attacked.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

He growled. “Go away.”

“Are they going to come back?”

“No,” he lied.

“Not even for you?”

“No.”

“My name is Kat.”

He blinked. He hadn’t expected her to tell him anything of interest, not even her name. It suited her, though. He thought of black cats when he saw her eyes. “I’m Max.”

“Well, Max. You should consider that if they’re not coming back for you, you’ll have nowhere to go. And this carnival is a place to go. But not if you keep growling and trying to kill me. Or anyone here.”

This was the most preposterous conversation Max could remember ever having been a part of. A carnival that took in homeless shifters was the craziest thing he could think of, let alone the idea that it would take
him
in if his pack abandoned him. Of course, his pack would never abandon him, and they would find that out soon enough. He did realize, though, with some measure of consternation, that he was glad he hadn’t caught and killed this girl, Kat. He couldn’t have said immediately why, because she was annoying, so he blamed it on the smell of her. It was a very, very nice smell. In spite of himself, he started to wonder what she’d taste like. What her skin would taste like if he licked it.

The sharp
snap
of a whip clanging against the bars of the cage shook him, and he startled up onto his hands and knees despite the roar of pain in his side. If he’d had more strength, he’d have shifted into his wolf skin, but he was too weak. Standing beside the girl now was a short, slender man with a pointed face, and that whip. What had she called him? Baptiste.

Baptiste took Kat by the arm and pulled her back from the cage. “Go find your father,” he told her curtly.

“His name is Max,” she said. “He said his pack attacked because their alpha went nuts. Don’t hurt him, Baptiste, he can’t tell you anything else.”

The narrow-faced man scowled. “He can tell me where his pack goes to ground.”

“It was a mistake,” Kat argued. “Don’t hurt him. And don’t let my father turn this into a war!”

“They struck first,” Baptiste hissed. “And they hurt Liam. Mabel’s tending to him right now. Kat, he’s lost a bloody
hand
, maybe the whole arm. There will be a response whether you like it or not.”

Max knew what that meant. He hadn’t met the alpha of this menagerie, the
Ringmaster
of this carnival, but any self-respecting alpha would have done the same. A counterstrike. An attempt to retake the pack’s dominance, to stand its ground, to lay waste to its enemies. Max had been a part of a few of those, and his pack had always won. But these shifters were strange, banding together as they did, from different walks. That would make them unpredictable. He watched Baptiste attempt to manhandle Kat back towards the big top and growled through his clenched teeth again.

Baptiste continued hauling the girl away, but jabbed a finger towards him. “I’ll be back for you.”

The carnival was gathered under the big top. Baptiste dragged her inside, and she wasn’t in much of a position to pull free of him because her foot was bandaged and sore. Eventually he let go of her arm and she went limping onto the sand to take a seat on one of the performance platforms. The last time they’d all come together beneath the big top had been when Marcus and D’Orfeo had fought, and the tension was just as thick now as it had been then. Only it was worse, Kat realized, because the tension wasn’t coming from apprehension, from wondering what would happen next. It was coming from defeat, from pain, from fear.

Kat saw Mabel there, still holding her shotgun, a gash running through one bright eye. Liam wasn’t there, but his bears were milling restlessly around, muttering to each other, and Kat felt dread open in the pit of her stomach, remembering what Baptiste had said about his arm. The twins were sitting arm-in-arm on the sand, both looking pale and shaken. Many of the carnival members were bloodied, some in slings and some just bruised, but everyone had come out to fight, it seemed. But then, they always did. They defended each other and their home.

Kat knew that she should be thinking about what would happen next, how they would defend themselves or take the offensive initiative, but she was thinking about the wolf in the cage. Well, she was thinking about the naked
man
in the cage. It wasn’t the time or the place, but he just kept popping right up behind her eyes, flickering through her mind, and all of her thoughts bounced back to him.

She hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. And so naked. A beaten bundle of pale muscled flesh, a swath of dark brown hair and piercing golden eyes. He was gorgeous. Kat was unaccustomed to talking to gorgeous men, generally speaking. Marcus had been gorgeous, but he saw her as a little sister. None of the other men in the carnival would ever have looked at her as anything else; that was one of the Ringmaster’s rules, of course. No fraternizing with his daughter.

Fraternizing was one of the aspects of life that Kat was missing, that she longed for. She’d never had a boyfriend, or even been on a date. This had caused some serious friction between herself and her father, but she never won those arguments. In the end, she was powerless. And he was
always
there. She could only maneuver around him, not move through him, and there were only so many ways she could trick him. She’d exhausted them all, and then she’d betrayed him, and now she was pretty sure that she was going to be alone for the rest of her life.

Her few moments of freedom felt stolen. She’d had her first kiss in the fun house, with a boy she’d met that very night, one of the guests of the carnival. She’d been thirteen and he’d come with his family but got bored and wandered off, and she’d been manning the fun house door, collecting tickets. They’d locked eyes and Kat had felt a thrill right down to her toes, so she’d offered to go with him through the fun house. He had kissed her in the topsy-turvy room, an upside-down armchair drilled into the ceiling above her head. She’d run off as soon as it was over, afraid her father would just
know
somehow and the boy would get in trouble. She’d managed to lose her virginity a year ago by using Marcus’s tricks. She’d met another boy in Texas, where they’d spent two weeks, and the night before the carnival had left, she’d given herself to him in the back of his pickup truck. Not the most romantic first time—and it was as yet her
only
time—but it was another experience she’d felt as though she had to steal if she was ever going to have it. Mabel had covered for her that night, and had never asked her what she’d been doing. Or who.

Those two boys had been normal, average in every way. The man in the cage was not even remotely normal, but Kat found herself drawn to him in a way she’d never felt before. It was exhilarating and terrifying and she knew she
had
to stop thinking about him, but her brain just wouldn’t cooperate. And then she saw her father walk in and head for the center of the sand, in the middle of the big top’s performance ring. He’d changed his clothes. Now he was wearing the black tailcoat that he wore when he wanted to look intimidating—it worked, every time.

He was all tall, narrow muscles, broad-shouldered but lean, and the coattails plus the salt in his dark hair made him look distinguished and a little mean. Or perhaps he just
was
a little mean. Kat didn’t like thinking about that, though over the years, as they’d begun to fight like all parents and children, and her perceptions had begun to widen, she had started to see it. A darkness to him. And she’d never been brave enough to ask after its source, but she knew that it was not a thing that had lived in him forever. She knew that earlier in his life, he’d been a good man who did good things, and at some point that had changed. Mabel wouldn’t talk about it, and neither would Liam or Baptiste. And they were the only ones who had been with the carnival long enough to know.

Now he stood before his people, and Kat was somewhat thankful for that darkness, and that meanness, because he used it to protect them all.

“Liam is going to be all right,” he told them all, first and foremost.

Kat felt her heartbeat gallop suddenly, thinking of how close they must have come to losing Liam if her father led with that.

A chorus of questions answered him, the members of the carnival all chiming in around the room.
Who were they? What did we do? Will they come back? Did you know we were in their territory? What can we do to protect ourselves?
And on and on. Eventually, the Ringmaster held up his hands, and the members of the carnival reluctantly quieted.

“I don’t know who they are,” D’Orfeo said sadly. “A wolf pack. I didn’t know we’d crossed into their territory. You all know how careful I try to be about that. And I don’t know if they’ll come back, but what I
do
know is that we are going to find them
first
.”

A rumble of concern shifted through the crowd. D’Orfeo shook his head.

“I won’t let this carnival be attacked for no reason without responding in kind. Fortunately, my own Kat managed to capture one of them. Baptiste is interrogating him as we speak, and with the information he gleans, we will be able to put together a safe counterattack. We’ll show them our strength, and that we are not going to be bullied, no matter where we are.”

More raised voices from the carnival members, but this time in agreement. Some of them congratulated and thanked Kat herself. But Kat wasn’t listening to them anymore; she was looking around the big top, trying to find Baptiste. But he was gone. He must have left as soon as her father had walked in. He’d gone back to hurt the wolf until he told him what he wanted to know, and her fears were confirmed: her father would use that information to lead them into another war.

Even as people were talking to her, as her father was explaining his plan of attack, as the carnival was banding together to defend their strange home, Kat was getting to her feet and hurrying out of the big top. She heard her father’s voice rise up, shouting for her to come back, but she just limped faster, practically hopping to keep the weight off her wounded foot, but without slowing down. She burst back out of the big top and turned down the lane of animal cages. There, at the far end, was the cage holding Max, and Baptiste was inside it with him. He was still on the floor of the cage but Kat could see the silver glint of the edge of Baptiste’s whip, the length of it wrapped around Max’s throat.

“Baptiste, stop!” she cried, waving her arms as she hurried over to the cage.

Baptiste’s head came up, a scowl contorting his features, but his grip on Max loosened enough that the man dropped facedown in the straw on the floor of the cage.

“What are you doing here?” Baptiste asked Kat sharply. “Get back in there!”

“I told you not to hurt him!” Kat clambered up the steps and right into the cage. Baptiste hastily gathered up the whip and reached for her, but she ducked his arm and dropped to her knees in the straw, putting herself directly between the tamer and Max.

Baptiste whirled around, staring at her. “What are you doing?”

“I know they attacked us,” Kat said. She felt Max stir behind her, but he stayed down, and she was grateful for that since she wasn’t actually sure that he wouldn’t shred her to fleshy ribbons if given the chance. And this was a chance. She held Baptiste’s gaze, though. “I know that people were hurt. I was one of them! But this isn’t the way to do things! It’s just hurting and hurting and hurting, and when does it stop?”

“It stops when our enemies are destroyed.” D’Orfeo was standing outside of the cage now, his arms folded, frowning fiercely at Kat through the bars. “Get out of there.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, I won’t let you
torture
him.”

“Kat.” D’Orfeo’s voice rose; it echoed down the lane. Kat was all too familiar with that decibel. It meant she was in very real trouble. “Get out of the cage.”

She didn’t move. She refused to let him bully her. She truly believed that this whole cycle of warring against other shifters was going to destroy
them
before it destroyed their
enemies
.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she told her father. “I’m staying right here.”

D’Orfeo’s expression darkened with fury. Then his eyes ticked from her to Baptiste, and he shot the man a short nod. Baptiste stared back at him and Kat saw his face flush with surprise.

“Ringmaster,” Baptiste said in a low voice.

“She wants to stay in the cage!” D’Orfeo bellowed furiously. It was so loud that Kat flinched back from the bars, landing on her ass in the straw, legs brushing Max. “So leave her in the bloody cage!”

Baptiste ducked quickly out of the cage and, before Kat realized what he was doing, he’d pulled the cage door shut. And then he was locking it. And Kat sat there watching him do it with her mouth agape, shocked.

“Dad,” she said, looking at the Ringmaster. “Dad, but, I—”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” D’Orfeo all but snarled at her. “Assuming you’re still alive.”

He turned, the black tails of his coat snapping behind his legs, to stalk down the lane and back towards the big top. Baptiste fell into step with him, though the fox-faced tamer did glance back once over his shoulder at her, and Kat thought she saw something like regret in his narrow face before he looked away again. They disappeared around a corner and Kat was left in that cage, trapped, with a very naked man who could turn into a wolf, and probably would, and would probably eat her, before the night was over.