Cirque Du Minuit (Cirque Masters 1)

Theo stayed down on the floor and watched, nursing a third beer. He couldn’t drink any more, even if the nicotine urges were starting to hound him. He had to be sober enough to look after her.

Even now, he could see other men, other dominants he recognized, sizing her up. If she’d come with him, they would know her for what she was...a submissive female. And her alluring naïveté and vulnerability--well, that spoke for itself. Her anxious smile, her laughter, her awkwardness. It charmed and slaughtered him at the same time. She might as well have “gullible target” tattooed across her forehead. And because of that, he wouldn’t get drunk.

Damn. Golden Boy was here. Wayne pushed past Theo to climb up on the platform. Kelsey greeted him, throwing her arms around him in a huge hug. They started to dance, caught up in the press of bodies. Theo watched a while, noting every one of Wayne’s flirtations, every seductive touch.

A friend from one of Theo’s previous shows clapped him on the shoulder and he turned, glad for the distraction. Let Wayne have his shot at Kelsey. Theo wasn’t threatened by his wholesome California charm. He already knew that wasn’t Kelsey’s cup of tea.

Theo moved to a quieter corner to chat with Hovik, an Armenian best known for creating breathtaking balancing acts. As it turned out, Hovik had made the unusual move into dance. Dance acts weren’t common, but Theo could see Lemaitre commissioning an especially erotic one for Cirque du Minuit. He became engrossed in Hovik’s description of the developing act and his sexy Russian partner, Svetlana, who was apparently already in one of the private rooms. With a start, Theo realized he hadn’t checked on Kelsey in ten or fifteen minutes. A scan of the platform told him she was gone.

He made some quick apologies to Hovik and frantically searched the room. Theo would kill Wayne if he’d taken her to one of the back rooms. He started for the hallway only to glance over and locate Kelsey’s towhead at the bar. Jesus, she’d ordered another Citadel Tea, and had already downed a good part of it. It wasn’t exactly the drink to use for thirst-quenching purposes.

When he reached her side, he took it away. “Slow down there. You weigh what? A hundred-ten soaking wet?”

“What does that matter?” Kelsey laughed, grabbing it back.

“Let me explain to you about metabolizing alcohol.”

Wayne butted into their conversation, greeting Theo like they were old friends.

“Hey, guy. Settled into the house yet?”

Theo gave him a look meant to freeze. “Yeah, guy. I’m settling in okay. Thanks.” Theo turned back to Kelsey to find her draining the rest of her potent cocktail. “Okay, enough,” he said. “No more alcohol for a while.” God, he’d wanted her buzzing, not passed out.

“It tastes good, Theo,” she said brightly. “I’ve only tasted a few drinks here and there, but I never really liked them. This tastes kind of like...” She sucked on one of the ice cubes. “Party punch.”

Oh my God. Party punch. He’d brought a woman with the social age of twelve to the Citadel. He deserved everything he got.

“Let’s go sit down a while,” he said. “Let that drink settle.”

They went over to one of the tables. Theo sat in a deep chair and Kelsey collapsed on top of him, curling up like a kitten. She blatantly rubbed her ass against his crotch. Oh great, she was one of those drunk girls. He needed a fucking cigarette. He let himself get hard, ground against her as he watched the dancers. After a few minutes, Kelsey turned in his lap until she was straddling him. Out of the corner of his eye, Theo saw Wayne watching them. Theo put a hand on the back of Kelsey’s neck and kissed her. A real fervent, hot kiss. The other hand slid down to her ass, guiding her erotic movements. Silly little drunk girl. She wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow.

Theo didn’t care. He kissed her, on and on, and thrust a hand up her shirt to squeeze her breasts. She was so lovely, so delicious. He lost himself in her, feeling drunk even though he wasn’t. Then he became aware of a stillness in the deafeningly loud room. Lemaitre had arrived.

When Theo broke the kiss to scan the room, Kelsey turned too. Lemaitre was in fetish gear--a latex shirt and leather chaps. He had his two striking male pets on a leash at his feet. Already, clothes were coming off. The frenetic dancing of moments before turned into a more sinuous slide of movement. Lemaitre scanned his domain, his staff, his performers.

“Look who’s here,” Kelsey marveled. “Wow, he looks incredible.”

He did. Woman or man, gay or straight, you would have to be blind not to admire him. A bartender approached him with a drink on a tray, a wicked beer shot Lemaitre preferred called an Irish Car Bomb.

Without warning, Kelsey was on her feet and reeling Lemaitre’s way. Theo watched in horror as she almost tripped over one of his pets. The blond stud shot her an aggrieved look, but Lemaitre greeted her with a smile as she stumbled into his arms. Lemaitre righted her and they exchanged a few words while the music pounded on and Theo’s heart galloped in his chest.

Well, he’d told her she’d have to make an impression on Lemaitre. She was making an impression all right. Theo was debating whether to go rescue her and call even more attention to her when Lemaitre dropped the shot in his Car Bomb and offered it to her.

“Kelsey, no!” Theo stalked over but it was too late. At Lemaitre’s urging she was pounding the drink. Thank God she only got halfway through before the disgusting taste registered with her. Theo glared at Lemaitre as he took Kelsey’s arm.

“I see you have brought out your new ingenue for our pleasure,” Lemaitre said to him in French with a true smile. “She is delightful.”

“She is drunk,” Theo corrected over the pounding music. “But she seems to have taken to le Citadel.”

“They all take to le Citadel,” Lemaitre mused. Kelsey still stared at him in drunken wonder. “You will have to bring her back again another night. Bring her into the back room. Have you trained her at all?”

Theo frowned. “Not precisely. We’re easing into it.”

“She is a handful, no?” Now Kelsey was patting one of Lemaitre’s blond toys on the head as if they were really pets. A curious crowd gathered around them. Theo glared at Kelsey, willing her to stop. No one touched Lemaitre’s pets, ever. At least not until now. Oh, God, now she was scratching the other guy behind the ears.

“Eh bien, Theo. Go enjoy your little girl. Next time, perhaps, do not let her drink so much.” With a comic raise of his eyebrows, Lemaitre nudged Kelsey away from his charges and proceeded past them on the way to his own private space. Theo yanked Kelsey over by the wall.

“You are so drunk.” He shook his head at her when she tried to snake her hands around his neck. “And that Bomb you pounded isn’t going to sit well with the cocktails you drank earlier.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Again, you should have told me this. You never tell me anyshing-- any--” She stumbled over the word. “Anything I really ne

ed to know.”

“Bravo,” Theo yelled over the music. “Finally, my English is better than yours. Here’s what you need to know. You don’t mix beer and spirits. You don’t pet Lemaitre’s boys. And you’re lucky the only thing he asked of you was to share his drink.”

“It tassted nasssty,” slurred Kelsey. “And it’s not really sitting right with me.”

She gripped her stomach and Theo steered her toward the bathrooms. He barreled into the men’s room with her since the line was shorter, and since gender was never a big sticking point at the Cirque. The revelers within took one look at Kelsey’s green face and gave up the next stall. Kelsey looked at Theo with pleading eyes. “I feel really, really sick.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ll hold your hair for you.”

“I can’t be sick in front of you.” She shook her head. “Please--leave--” That was all she could get out before her body took over. He couldn’t even hear the sound of her being sick over the blare of the music. But she was definitely sick. Really sick.

Poor thing.

*** *** ***

The first thing Kelsey thought when she woke up was, This is not my bed. This is not my room.

The second thing she thought was, Oh God, please let me die.

Her head ached so bad--a throbbing, knifing pain in her brain. Her mouth felt too dry to swallow. Everything hurt, even her skin. She saw a dark blur in the dim room and then Theo was there, leaning over the bed, brushing her hair back from her face. It was a gentle touch but it still hurt. “Ouch,” she said, but it came out a dry, shapeless rasp. “Theo...”

He shushed her and shoved a glass against her lips. She pushed it away in a panic. “No more. No.”

“It’s just water.”

She managed a sip or two before the tremors overcame her. She was so cold. Theo tucked the blankets closer around her and the softness of the sheets and the warmth almost made her cry. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Theo slid into the bed beside her. More soothing warmth, and a solid wall to rest against. She wanted to sleep but her head hurt too much. “I’m never drinking again.”