“It’s my act and I’ll do what I want.”
He bleats like a whiny child. I feel my lip curl with disdain. “I don’t have time for your shit.”
“Make time,” Tanno growls. “I want to know why you’re suddenly interfering in my act when everyone else is allowed to do what they want. Why you’re allowed to have Ryah and no one else is.”
Have Ryah. I don’t have Ryah, and that alone is making me crazy. I feel my fingers curling into fists at my sides. “Stop pushing it. I said what I said. Now clear off and go do something useful.”
“What’s going on? I heard my name.”
Ryah has come up behind us. Tanno looks past me and smiles. “Ryah, sweetheart, I was going to ask you to if you wanted to be part of my whip act.”
Sweetheart. God, I want to smash his fucking face in. I turn and look at her, searching her eyes for any hints that she might be interested in Tanno, a wolf who refuses to let anyone else touch the youngest, prettiest wolf in the pack even though he can’t have her himself.
Is it just me, or does a shadow pass over Ryah’s face as she looks at Tanno?
“But I’m in Cale’s act.”
“That can be changed,” Tanno mutters. Louder, he says, “You can decide what you want to do, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
She blinks, as if she’s puzzled why Tanno even feels the need to say that. “Yes, I know I can, but I’m with Cale. Maybe you could ask someone else. When you’ve had more practice, I mean. You said to me yesterday that you’ve only been at it a few weeks.”
Tanno flushes crimson as he watches her walk away. I have to cover my mouth and cough to prevent myself from bursting out laughing.
“I am—I’m ready for—” Tanno calls after her, but Ryah has already gone up the steps and disappeared inside her wagon.
I pat Tanno on the back, too hard for it to be considered friendly, and walk away, grinning to myself.
I’m with Cale. Three little words that follow me around like a favorite tune. I hum them to myself every chance I get. Maybe it’s beneath me to revel in getting one over a man ten years my junior when competing for the attentions of a seventeen-year-old girl, but privately, I revel like it’s a goddamn midsummer celebration.
The next morning, I make a round of the wagons, checking everything’s safe and in working order. Two wheels on one of them are splitting, and Gorran, myself and two others change them for a new ones. It’s hard, heavy work, and within half an hour we’re all stripped down to our shirtsleeves despite the chill wind.
Jareth watches me sweating and heaving from a dozen feet away, cozy in his rug and idly chewing some hay.
“All right for some, isn’t it, boy?” I gasp, holding an axle with one of the other men while Gorran props it up. Just in time, too, because my heel skids on the mud and I fall on my ass. The others help me up and I wipe my hands on the least muddy part of my jeans I can find. Glamorous circus life.
We finish, I wash up and change into clean, dry clothes and go and call my mother. The usual pang of guilt goes through me as I lift the receiver in the public call box. It’s not like she ever asks if I’m going to settle down instead of crisscrossing the country, year after year, but I can feel the questions hanging over me. I’m their only child now. I’m thirty-one. They’re probably wondering if they’re ever going to have any grandchildren. The only woman I’ve been interested in for years is an intensely vulnerable seventeen-year-old girl, so I fucking doubt it.
I lean against the square panes of glass in the booth, both hands shoved deep in the pockets of my coat and the receiver tucked against my ear. Mum picks up, and we exchange pleasantries about their farm and my circus.
Then she asks, “How many for Christmas this year?”
My eyes drift over the camp until they land on Ryah, who’s carrying an enormous bale of hay and wearing men’s jeans turned up several times so they’re not too long for her, and a heavy knitted jumper. She’s swimming in the huge clothes, but she looks cute as hell. She drops the hay by the horses and beams at them. One of the bays nudges her affectionately and almost knocks her off her feet. She turns around, scolds it a little, and then plants a kiss on its nose. I quash the smile that’s spread over my face so my mother doesn’t hear it in my voice and ask me what’s so amusing.
“About the same. Maybe one or two more.” I’ll have to have my poker face fixed on tight around my mother. No one in the circus seems to have clocked that I’m fonder of Ryah than I should be, though I’ve seen Elke watching me speculatively a few times. Usually after she’s caught me watching Ryah from across the fire.
I’m not staring. I’m just checking she’s okay. That’s my job.
As I hang up, I feel quite cheerful at the thought of the Christmas break. I’m looking forward to some downtime and a break from the traveling. The mud. The cold. I find I’m also excited by the thought of Ryah seeing where I grew up. Maybe we can go riding together and I’ll show her all the laneways and bridle paths that became so familiar to me as a boy.
I lean against the side of a wagon, watching Ryah chat with Aura. I’m too far away to hear their conversation but I enjoy her animated expression. My parents will like her, I think with a smile. Thoughts of children are still hovering at the edge of my mind.
That makes me think of Ryah pregnant. Of getting Ryah pregnant. Seeing her naked and spread before me in bed, those sparkling blue eyes gazing up at me trustingly. Then hazy with desire. Then her cheeks flushed with heat as she moans my name and comes while I’m deep inside her.
My dick gets suddenly, painfully hard. I clear my throat and head into my wagon, intending to calm down and head out again, but the image of Ryah’s naked body beneath my own is too vivid.
I slide my hand along my hard length beneath the denim, and the friction makes me groan under my breath. My head full of Ryah, I unbuckle my belt and undo my jeans. I pump my hand up and down my length, imagining her pretty pussy all wet for me. I’d have to go careful with her at first, because I don’t think she’s ever been with a man before.
The idea of showing sweet, innocent Ryah how good it feels to be fucked has me tipping over the edge. At the last second I grab wildly for discarded T-shirt so I don’t make a mess.