He had to close his eyes because the feeling he had for her was too intense, too overwhelming.

“My father loved my mother and me. Really loved us,” he murmured. He didn’t know why he told her. Maybe because the wind was blowing so softly across his face, feeling like a caress. Or because her fingers were still massaging when she should have been too tired to make the effort. He reached up and caught her wrist, bringing their clasped hands to his heart.

“I grew up in the circus. Did I tell you that? It wasn’t a huge circus, but everyone was very talented. We were like a huge family.”

“That sounds amazing, Jonas. Every child’s secret dream. Is that where you got your unbelievable balance and reflexes?”

“Yes. My parents started working with me when I was a toddler. We had a high-wire act, as well as a knife-throwing act. Also, a combination of the two.”

“Dangerous.”

“It would have been if we didn’t know what we were doing, but we practiced day and night. We never took unnecessary risks. My father was a big believer in hard work and never showing off. So we worked hard and we didn’t show off. He was head of the family and we followed his lead. He said something, it was law, not because he ruled with an iron fist but because he’d earned our respect.”

Camellia’s free hand was back in his hair, smoothing it from his forehead in little caresses that felt unbelievably like true caring. He could get used to this. The two of them. Having her close while he drifted off to sleep.

“I bet you looked really cute in a leotard. Was yours glittery and spangly?”

The teasing note would have gotten her retaliation of a very sexual nature any other time, but he was going slow with her. Giving her time to get used to their relationship. He wasn’t certain how much more time he could give her, but she was safe for the next fifteen minutes at least.

“I look great in a leotard. Especially the glittery kind.”

“I’ll just bet you do. At least the ladies would think so.”

They had. He wasn’t going to admit that to her or lie about it either. He found himself smiling. “I’ll get one just for you. There must be one of the beams I can walk on to show you the act.”

“Do you still remember it?”

“I watched my parents practically from the time I was born and then participated around the age of three and up in one way or another. Yeah, honey, I remember. I practice with knives daily. It’s a habit.”

“That’s because you’re bloodthirsty, not because you want to run away and join the circus again.” She laughed, the sound melodic, adding to the music made by the rustling of the leaves in the trees.

He rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. He had a large hand, much larger than hers, and he managed to cover a lot of her skin. “They rarely fought. Not often. They were passionate and always together, always touching and kissing. He’d suddenly just swing her up into the air, and she’d laugh and I’d laugh. He used to carry me around on his shoulders. He’d tell me that when he was an old man, I’d be carrying him.”

“That sounds so lovely, Jonas.”

“It was. I was lucky. I can’t ever remember my father striking me, and he was a really protective man. Off-the-charts protective. He could get angry and violent very fast with outsiders if they messed with any of our people. If there was ever any kind of fight, the moment he came on the scene, it was over. No one wanted to fight him.”

He rubbed her fingers over his chest. Over his heart. “That’s just some of what Whitney saw in me. What he enhanced in me. The protective trait. The violent trait.”

“What happened to your parents, Jonas? Where are they?”

He had known she would ask and that he would tell her. He hadn’t expected it to hurt as much as it did. He was a grown man. He’d distanced himself from it a long time ago, and yet now, just thinking about it, putting it into words for her, bringing the images back into his mind, it hurt like hell. It hurt the way it had in the days and weeks after he’d lost them.

“We all helped one another out. That was just the way it was. One of the big rigs had broken down, and my dad and I were helping fix the engine. We were a distance from where the others had stopped. Mom had parked our camper up about half a mile from us in some shade. It was hot as hell. Someone had told us there was a little stream with a swimming hole large enough for us to cool off in. A few of the kids were hiking through the trees just past Mom’s camper to look for the stream.”

Tags: Christine Feehan GhostWalkers Paranormal
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