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  “Lie down,” Caroline said when she’d finished with his face and he tried to rise. “I’m going to use the rest on your back again. Then I’ll do you, Riley.”

  “I didn’t realize you were going to,” Riley said. He had been sitting next to her on the chaise, mesmerized while she worked. “I can do my own. I can hardly complain.”

  “Okay. I’ll do what you can’t reach. The third bottle is for you.”

  She didn’t bother putting the rest in her hands, just poured it over Colm’s back to pool in the valley of his spine and slide down his sides. She rubbed it in like massage oil, less gentle now and more insistent, digging into the muscle when he didn’t protest.

  “God, that’s the good stuff you have right there, girl,” Colm breathed against the bench. “Potion costs thousands a pop these days.”

  Caroline marveled at the way his skin transitioned from a dead grayish color and scar tissue to pink new skin, then the pale cream that it had been when she’d met him—a few dark freckles here and there, but all scar marks gone, even some he might have had before.

  “Why’d you do it?” Caroline asked, kneading his lower back.

  His ass clenched every time she pushed deep into the restored skin.

  “You told me not to go after the kids because you knew what might happen. But you came after me anyway,” she said. “And you used up one of your wishes to turn your back into raw meat instead of mine and Riley’s. What kind of a damn fool thing was that to do?”

  She had the same questions for Riley, but to a lesser degree. He was a human being with capacity for empathy. It wasn’t that she just expected Riley to follow her and do the right thing—it had been amazing that he had. Not everyone would. It just hadn’t made her question the foundation of his very nature.

  “You’re not much use to me dead,” Colm said. “And I doubt you’d be in the mood for having a go after the both of you were beaten, even with the healing potion—which is fucking amazing. Have I mentioned that? God, that feels good. You feel that, boy?”

  “Apparently not,” Riley said, rubbing the potion into the clown bites on his shoulder. His face was already absorbing the blue liquid, but like with Colm, the healing was delayed.

  “Don’t do that.” Caroline held herself back from slapping his cheek. It wouldn’t be hard enough to hurt, but she had to remind herself that he’d had enough things hitting him for a while. “Don’t lie to me. People don’t martyr themselves for selfish reasons, unless they’re pathologically masochistic.”

  “I was ridden like a horse for almost fifty years,” Colm said.

  “Not by choice. You don’t put yourself at risk of death then take a beating that might kill you just to get laid,” Caroline said. She finished rubbing in the potion. There was nothing left except moisturized skin and pliant muscles under her hands.

  She sat back on the chaise, moving her hands to her lap instead of him, in case they were too much of a distraction. Her palms were unbelievably warm, partially from Colm’s heat and partially because of the magic, which would explain why it felt so good to him once the pain had receded—like a hot oil spa treatment.

  “Maybe I just want one specific person, and it would leave me with a massive case of blue balls if that person was taken from me,” Colm said. He slid his hands underneath his body and pushed himself upright. There were still bloodstains on him and on her hands. But she too had her own bloodstains on the rest of her body. They were all dirty. That was the least of their concerns.

  “I think you’re full of shit,” Caroline said.

  “That’s your prerogative.”

  Caroline turned and inspected Riley, her cheek against his shoulder as she looked over his back to make sure he had been able to reach everything. He had. She ran her fingers over the wings of his shoulder blades anyway, closing her eyes.

  “I mean, I know why Riley did it. But his wish, while still a sacrifice I might never be able to repay, wasn’t as dire as yours. A person who isn’t a saint doesn’t take a beating like that for someone else, especially for people they hate. Is it a pride thing, you not answering me straight? You don’t want to be the demon who did something good?”

  “I didn’t do anything good, crazy girl,” Colm said. “And I’m sure as hell not going to do it again.”

  “Do what again? Help save me?” Caroline asked.

  Colm grabbed her by the back of her neck. The action startled her, and she screamed a little before she could remind herself it was just Colm, that she wasn’t in any danger.

  “Is that what you think I did?” Colm asked, lips thin and cheeks twitching from the clenching of his teeth. “You think I saved you and your boy? You think I saved your life because of some romantic notion of love and loyalty? You think I wanted anything more than this?”

  He stood and bent over her, still holding her neck but also bracing himself against the chaise to control his brutal kiss. Colm grunted as he bit at her lip to make it swell, manipulated his tongue inside deep enough that she almost gagged before he entwined his with hers. He squeezed her neck so hard she thought he’d make it snap. The way he loomed over her, he forced her head back so that it was difficult to breathe, especially with him kissing her like that.

  “This is all I wanted,” Colm murmured before biting her jaw.

  He unfastened the bra part of the dress. The straps over her shoulders fell down her arms. He shoved the leather off and pinched her left nipple, swallowing the whine that caught in his second kiss. He slid a knee onto the lounge then grabbed and pinched both nipples. Every time she squirmed, they pulled away from her body and intensified the sensation.

  Caroline was scared. She was confused. And terribly, terribly aroused. Pleasure tumbled in the tumultuous waters of her fear. She shoved him away then pulled him closer, unsure whether the noises she was making were encouraging or discouraging.

  “All I wanted was your body, wicked girl,” Colm said again, his forehead against hers as he twisted her nipples sharply to make her squeal.

  He shut his eyes tight, his face contorted in the same way as it had been after the beating and during the healing. His cock was fiercely erect and leaking, bumping against his abdomen where he bent over. That must have been some healing potion.

  “Your tight, beautiful, tasty, fuckable body, because it’s the one I know, the one I know will let me in like the wicked slut you are. All right? That’s all… That’s all I wanted. That’s all you are to me. That’s— Damn you.”

  He palmed her breasts, his hands a balm after the pain of his fingers, and he was kissing her again as she wrapped her arms around him. She surrendered to the new kiss, the real kiss—the one where the anger dissolved into lust and whatever ran deeper inside of him that he’d tried so desperately to hide.

  She guided him beside her on the chaise, running her hands over his back. It was a reminder to both of them that he had willingly taken the punishment for her and she had been permitted to heal him.

  Heat and softness sheathing steel alerted her to Riley getting closer from behind, unzipping the skirt of the dress. He peeled her out of it as he kissed her shoulder. His hands clashed with and accompanied Colm’s on her breasts. Colm abandoned her mouth for the place on her neck that he loved and always made her moan. She turned back so that Riley could taste those moans. She kissed him as hard as she could to let him know that although Colm had proved more fragile and broken, she hadn’t forgotten what Riley had done for her as well.

  She shivered from the breeze that the air conditioners created backstage. It was too cool on her warming skin. Caroline pulled her men closer to her.

  “I want inside,” Colm rasped in her ear.

  She nodded.

  Colm lay on the chaise much as she had, but she didn’t hold him down, just let him arrange her over him before she slid back over his thick cock, taking her excruciating, sweet time so that she could feel herself close over every last inch of him. Riley was a great shadow over both of them, marking each of he
r vertebra with kisses and reaching around her to stroke her clit and labia, feeling where Colm split her.

  She raised herself up before pushing down his length once again. His need was urgent, but hers wasn’t. She caressed him with the wetness and softness that covered the intent muscles of her cunt clenching around him. Colm kissed her chest, her swinging breast, then fell back to kiss her arm and her hand before giving over to the sensations. It didn’t take him long. She bit her lip to thin a moan as he grabbed her hips and thrust his up, slamming inside her. He came, emptying the full extent of his desperate pleasure.

  He immediately pulled her off him, surprising her. “You next, boy,” he said. “You give your mistress the pleasure we survived to give her. She’s the only reason the Ringmaster didn’t mark you tonight.”

  Caroline pitched forward as Riley took Colm’s place inside her from behind, pushing through the moisture of her arousal and Colm’s hot cum with his cock. He groaned, helpless to keep himself from pounding in.

  Colm stayed underneath them, his eyes half-lidded as he watched them lose themselves in their bodies. The movement of Riley’s hands over her became rougher, less caressing and more a handhold to his unspooling self-control. The place where their bodies met with increasingly forceful thrusts throbbed with carnality—eroticism in the sound of their thighs slapping together and his scrotum striking her clit, his groans rumbling through her body and her own heightening shouts distant to her ears. She met Colm’s eyes, but she cried Riley’s name, rubbing her clit and clenching around his cock.

  The ends of her jagged hair brushed Colm’s face when she lowered her head, panting. Riley thrust through the flutters and twitches that followed her orgasm, until he too froze with a prolonged groan against Caroline’s shoulder, his cock the only part of him not paralyzed as it shot his release into her.

  Colm parted the curtain of Caroline’s hair to run his thumb along her lower lip and caress a line up her jaw. The skin around Colm’s eyes showed anger, but the set of his mouth suggested otherwise. She raised her head and stroked Riley’s hair behind her while he recovered.

  “Time to go,” Caroline said. “Shower or carousel?”

  “Yes,” both Riley and Colm answered at the same time.

  Caroline gathered up her dress. It was tangled up in its straps. She didn’t bother to put it back on. The whole circus knew what they all looked like naked, and if that bothered them, that was their problem.

  * * * *

  After they had each washed the blood off their skin, they returned to the cool, bright carousel cabin, walking through the dark rainbow lights to reach the cocoon. She took off her shoes, turned off one of the lights then lay down on the bed with her men.

  Their limbs knotted together. It was difficult to say whose was whose as sleep offered them a brief respite from the worst of the night. In the midst of monsters and men, Caroline slept safe for now.

  Coming Soon from Totally Bound Publishing:

  Arcanium: Aerial

  Aurelia T. Evans

  Released 14th July 2015

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Seth’s teammate David, who’d already gone to the circus last week with a few of his friends, had given it a high recommendation. He’d said the Bearded Lady’s tits were amazing.

  ‘Just ignore all the hair, and the rest of her is a real piece. And you can see the outline of the snake charmer’s nipples and pussy against her leather bikini.’

  Those were reasons enough for the rest of the team to visit Arcanium that Saturday night.

  Arcanium was connected to the local Ye Olde Faire, which meant they had to go through the whole faire to get to the circus. But since David had said the best stuff happened in the evening, Seth and Lars didn’t mind putting the weird hotties off till then. After all, the faire had an endless number of boobs over corsets on display, plus knife and star throwing and bawdy comedy shows. Nothing wrong with taking their time over turkey legs and a couple of pints.

  If Seth remembered his history class right, there probably hadn’t been this much exposed cleavage back in medieval times, but historical accuracy wasn’t that important to him. Especially when the barmaid did that thing that always seemed to short-circuit his brain—leaning over the counter, her elbows close to her sides, smiling, making those flirtatious eyes at him, and framing those beautiful breasts so that they plumped with that intriguing shadow between them. The neckline barely stopped short of her nipples, which just invited his imagination to push her bodice down.

  The move worked on him every time, reducing him to a gibbering idiot. But whenever he realized that his tongue wasn’t going to function for conversation, he fortunately had his smile to fall back on, so at least he wouldn’t be alone in his carnal stupidity.

  The barmaid licked her lips and blushed, passing him another pint.

  “On the house,” she said.

  Lars laughed when Seth handed him the free ale. He put Seth in a headlock and rubbed his head, tousling his blond hair.

  “You fucking dog,” Lars said. “How do you even do that? Aren’t chicks supposed to con drinks out of you?”

  And they did too. The exchange of free drinks was definitely weighted in favor of the females on bar nights, but sometimes it managed to swing his way. And Seth was more than willing to share the boozy wealth with good friends, not that Lars needed the help. Lars’ wallet was probably as light as Seth’s after the weekend—all in the pursuit of a good night’s lack of sleep.

  “We all have our talents. You suck on the field. I score with the ladies. That’s just how it is,” Seth said. He took a big gulp of his own ale and grinned when Lars threatened to pour his over Seth’s head.

  “It’s that damn smile, isn’t it?” Lars said. “All I have to do is take off my shirt or show them what’s packing, because when you take yours off, they get blinded by your pasty white ass. But I have to wait for soccer season or summer so I don’t freeze my balls off. You can just flash those brilliant whites like a fucking shark year-round, and all the panties come off even in the dead of winter. It’s a sin, a fucking sin, I’m telling you.”

  “What can I say? God loves me more than you.”

  Seth flashed his signature smile at the barmaid again before he left. Always leave them wanting more.

  Sometimes he got phone numbers, but the times he didn’t weren’t a disappointment. He’d remember the image of her tonight, the one that made his tongue heavy and his cock stir, the one that made him warm and prickly across his chest and over his face. Oh yeah, he’d remember—until the next girl.

  He’d remember them only a short time, but they were all special, all sweet for their moment. Sometimes he wondered—when he was standing in the shower and stroking off—whether they were thinking of him at the same time. That would make the exchange complete. A brief, blissful memory, hot in their hands, slickened and a little sticky—like the start of summer, when there was nothing but good distractions around him, memories to keep and memories to let go. All that ‘ships passing in the night’ shit. He was twenty-two years old. He could stand to wander, and he enjoyed it when the girls were just as interested in wandering with him.

  He liked being nice, but God knew he wasn’t looking to settle down, not yet—not when he and Lars were this close to getting out of college and trying out for the real thing. Sure, Lars was majoring in business and Seth in marketing, so they had their more conventional fallbacks. Buzz about their post-school future had been promising, though, and a person couldn’t settle down when he was traveling all soccer season.

  Seth had his whole life to settle. Right now, putting down roots was overrated, no matter how often his aunts and grandmothers asked him whether he had a girlfriend yet. He assumed the shiftlessness would leave him one day, but today was not that day.

  His team got it. Lars got it. They couldn’t stop moving. They were briefly confined to a soccer field, but then the horizon was the limit. Seth signed up for marathons with Lars, ran
in the ungodly hours of the morning with him. The Earth was a constantly moving body, and Seth liked running with it moving beneath his feet.

  Or walking. Seth liked walking, too, and this faire thing seemed to go on forever.

  “Where’s the circus supposed to be again?” Seth asked. He couldn’t figure out cardinal directions to save his life, which was okay until he had to go somewhere without GPS telling him how to get there. Lars was the one with an internal compass.

  “I think David said it was on the south side,” Lars said.

  “Oh, the south side. That clears everything up.”

  “Fine, on the other side of the fruity arts and crafts tents, moron. He said we couldn’t miss the gates.”

  David had been right. After the pagan jewelry and melodramatic paintings and costume sellers, the scrolled, wrought iron gate that led into Arcanium seemed just the right amount of dramatic—as though they were walking out of the kids’ section of the park and into the real stuff.

  Arcanium sure knew how to draw people in. Right at the entrance—next to a large sign that read Adults Only after 8 p.m. Wayward children will be eaten by clowns—a sword swallower on a wooden platform greeted incoming patrons with the sight of hooks going into his nose and coming out of his mouth.

  “Fucking sick,” Seth said with equal parts disgust and awe.

  The sword swallower did not look well. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair had receded almost all the way over his head, barely concealed by being shaved close to the scalp. His tan cotton pants hung low on his bony hips. But he grinned at them with the jagged hook point poking out between his teeth. He swept a bow to Seth and Lars as they entered.