Master's Flame (Cirque Masters 3)

“I thought Mr. Lemaitre kept a lot of slaves,” she said. “Why is everyone gawking at me?”

Jason pulled at his lip, then let out a soft breath that flared his nostrils. “Do you want to have lunch?”

Oh no. She’d come to recognize that tone all too well. “Actually, I was going to grab something quick and head over to the gym—” she began.

“I think we should have lunch.”

She followed him to the cafeteria, trying not to think too hard about the determined expression on his face. People stared as they walked down the corridors, and continued to stare as they filled their trays and sat down at a table.

She turned her back to everyone and took apart her turkey sandwich, eating the tomato slices first. She wished she could put tomato on some of her art. The red was so vibrant. The texture of the shredded lettuce clinging to the turkey caught her attention next. She poked at it as she bit into the tomato.

“So,” said Jason. “I’ve considered your request to add the series of flips to the finale.”

“And?” She looked up from the lettuce and knew he was going to tell her no. “I can do it,” she said. “I used to do flips on top of my three brothers in a stack. Boom, boom, boom.” She used her hands to illustrate the concept. “They never dropped me. Never.”

“Somehow I believe that.”

“So why?” She shoveled the lettuce into her mouth, then reassembled her sandwich and took a bite. “I like the challenge,” she said after she swallowed. “I want it to be hard every night.”

“I know you like things to be hard every night,” Jason said, with a bit less patience in his tone. “But you can’t incorporate skills into the act that can’t be replicated every show, day after day. Every skill in the act should have a one-hundred-percent likelihood of perfect execution.”

“I could do it perfectly one hundred percent of the time.”

“Valentina.”

“I could! It’s the speed. It’s easier to balance moving fast than moving slow—”

“Valentina, enough.” He brushed a crumb from the corner of his mouth. “Look, the answer is no. If I didn’t tell you no now, then Genevieve would tell you no when she saw the flips. And if she didn’t say no, then Lemaitre would.”

Just hearing his name made Valentina go tense. She took another bite of her sandwich, her throat suddenly tight and itchy. “I’m just trying to be myself,” she said. “I came to Cirque du Monde to be an artist, to express my—my—” She waved a hand. “Whatever it’s called. My vision.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it’s so.” She glanced up to find him staring at her with one eyebrow raised. “You know, when you look at me like that, I want to throw my plate at your face.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Your Master wouldn’t be happy.”

“He’s not here right now.”

“But you’re his slave, aren’t you? You’re supposed to behave in ways he finds pleasing, whether or not he’s here.”

She looked around the cafeteria, like he might be watching from a corner somewhere. Yes, she’d been learning—via some very painful lectures and punishments—that her Master’s will trumped everything where she was concerned. She pushed down uneasy feelings and forced a smile, giving Jason a flirtatious look. “You wouldn’t tell on me, would you?”

“I would tell on you in a heartbeat, especially if you threw a plate at my face. Maybe I’ll go tell on you right now for threatening me.”

“No!” She reached out and grabbed his hand before she realized he was joking. Oh shit. Now he looked perturbed.

“What’s he been doing to you?” Jason asked. “You’re not yourself today. Honestly, you haven’t been yourself in a while. Where’s the Valentina that showed up here last fall ready to conquer the world?”

“You won’t let me conquer the world. You won’t even let me put fun stuff in the act, because it can’t be replicated.” She said the last word in a sing-song mocking tone.

“Let’s forget about the fun stuff in your act because it’s not happening, and that’s not what I want to talk about.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “What’s going on with you and Lemaitre?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why the fuck are you putting yourself through this? I told you, you aren’t a good match. He’s not Lugo in the showers, Valentina. He’s not Adei. He’s not even me. He can be a brutal, unfeeling Master and he’s not one to fall in love with his slaves. If you think you’ll be different, that you’ll somehow get through to his heart, you’re in for a disappointment.”

She stared at the table. “I don’t want to get through to his heart.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve been in love with him since the first week.” He took her hand hard, the way she’d taken his hand when she thought he was going to tell on her. “I love the way you fall in love with everyone and everything. I do. I love your recklessness and intensity. They’re wonderful qualities.”

“They’re terrible qualities,” she said, grabbing her hand away. “You complain about them all the time. Mr. Lemaitre is going to help me be a better person. More focused. More self-disciplined.”

“He’s going to help you be a better sex slave, okay? Period. That’s it.”

She shook her head. That wasn’t true. Mr. Lemaitre had told her he would change her, that he would make her better and stronger. “You don’t understand. You haven’t been there for our conversations.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re having lots of conversations,” said Jason, rolling his eyes. “I know the kind of conversations Lemaitre likes to have with his slaves. They involve lots of lubricant.”

Valentina put down her sandwich. “You don’t understand anything. You think you know everything about me and Mr. Lemaitre, but you don’t.”

“I know enough. I warned you off him weeks ago, Valentina. I’m worried about the two of you together because I don’t think your personalities mesh.”

She took small sips of water, refusing to look at him.

“Hm, no comment,” he said after a moment. “Listen, if the reality isn’t what you thought it would be—”