The Hearts Series

  It was a photograph, and had fallen blank side up. I held it in my hands and turned it over to find a picture of a woman at the beach. She was smiling widely, her teeth white and straight, and she wore a red bathing suit that showed off some enviable curves. Her hair was dark brown, her skin a pale olive, and her eyes were almost as dark as Jack’s. She looked like maybe she had some Greek or Italian blood in her, and she was certainly very beautiful.

  I turned the photo over again to see someone had written on the back in pen, but it was nearly faded to nothing. It read: Alexis, Rome, 2009.

  When I looked back up, King had gotten a good distance ahead of me. I was about to run after him to return the photo when Lola suddenly appeared, her face a mixture of excitement and concern.

  “Is it true? About Julie?” she asked, a little breathless.

  I nodded, shoving the picture in my pocket to return to King later as I filled Lola in on everything that had happened.

  “That little psycho. I swear, I always knew she was a bitch, but I didn’t know she was a crazy bitch,” Lola exclaimed as we reached the camper. We both stepped inside and found the bathroom door open as Violet stood by the mirror in her underwear, dyeing her hair. Her roots had been growing out a little, and she was topping them up with more purple. We stared at her for a moment. She gestured with her gloved hand, irritated. “What? I don’t want to get dye on my clothes.”

  Lola gave her a pointed look. “I think that’s what coveralls are for.”

  “Oh, whatever. Nobody has time to buy coveralls.”

  “I think you’ll find they do. Shall I compile a list? Plumbers, painters, welders, matchstick makers….”

  “Seriously, Lola, shut up and tell me the news. You came in with a gossipy gleam in your eye.”

  Nude hair dyeing forgotten, Lola immediately began to regale her with the Julie gossip as I went to change into some fresh clothes. I also packed a small bag to bring with me to Jack’s. I wasn’t being presumptuous. He’d asked me to do it before I left. I’d barely been away from him an hour, but already I was itching to see him again. After I’d taken care of a few tasks, I made my way to the Spiegeltent, where he told me he’d be rehearsing.

  The place was empty when I walked in, save for Jack standing on the stage. He brought a bottle to his mouth and drank, then spat it back out in a spray. It hit the lit torch he was holding, and the flame blew massively. My skin prickled with awareness. There was something so primal about him when he breathed fire. It was his element, the balm that soothed his damaged soul, and the way he worked with it was captivating.

  He saw me come in and sit by the edge of the stage, giving me a heated smile that made my tummy flutter. Now that I knew about his bedroom preferences, even seeing fire reminded me of sex. And sex with Jack was something that branded itself into your memory like hot steel permanently marking your skin. His eyes wandered over my body. I was wearing a dress today, a light summery one that showed off my arms and stopped above the knee. Unlike yesterday, the weather was hot and dry, so I thought I could get away with showing a little more skin.

  His lips formed a smirk as he called over, “Like your dress, flower.”

  I blushed but didn’t respond to the compliment. Instead, I asked, “What’s in the bottle?”

  He took a few steps towards me. “It’s kerosene. I never use gasoline or alcohols. They’re too dangerous.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “Does it taste okay?”

  “Not at all, but I’m not exactly savouring it when it’s in my mouth, Lille.” He laughed low and gave me pointed stare. “In fact, I practice having it there for the shortest time possible to minimise the chances of ingesting. You can do a lot of damage. It’s a risk.”

  “Is the risk a part of the thrill?” I asked quietly.

  His boots sounded against the floor of the stage as he took the last few steps to reach me. Then he went down on one knee, eyes flickering over my face as he took my chin in his hand. “Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered.

  I stared at his mouth, the air thickening between us. “When it comes to you, yes. I think breathing fire makes you feel alive, and I think you take the risk because it’s your choice and no one else’s. You’re the master of your fate, and whether or not you get hurt is all down to whether or not you fuck up.”

  His smile grew slowly. “I like the way you see me.”

  I smiled back. “I like seeing you.”

  The moment was broken when a noise sounded at the entrance and a couple of circus workers came in carrying equipment. Jack eyed them, then rose and went to gather his things. “Looks like Julie and her sisters are going to be rehearsing soon. We’d better leave.” I got a little jolt to be reminded of her and stood, following him to the back of the tent. When we were in the backstage area, he kept sneaking glances at me as he slotted his torches into a duffle bag.

  “What?” I said, self-conscious.

  “Nothing.”

  I elbowed him. “Don’t lie. You were thinking something, and I want to know what it is.”

  His smile was provocative. “I was thinking that you’re in a very good mood after last night, and I was also wondering if I asked you to do something, would you say yes or no.”

  I absorbed his reply for a moment, then said, “Ask me to do what?”

  A second later, he was crowding me into the wall and murmuring in my ear, “To get down on your knees and take me in your mouth.”

  I blinked nervously and stared up at him. It surprised me how much his request turned me on. “Well” —I swallowed— “that all depends.”

  His eyebrow rose. “On?”

  “On whether or not you mean here or back at your camper,” I answered in the most seductive voice I could manage, which probably sounded like I was getting a chest infection.

  With his thumb brushing along my throat, he replied, “And what if I said here?”

  God, why did he have to sound so sexy when he spoke? It wasn’t fair. “Then I’d say you’re pushing your luck.”

  “I like pushing my luck with you.” His voice was pure gravel, and his body was pressing heavily into mine now, his arousal firm at my belly. I was fascinated by how quickly he could get it up. Okay, fascinated, and also flattered that I was the catalyst for his speedy readiness.

  “There are people around,” I protested.

  His hand stroked my hair away from my neck as he bent to place an open-mouthed kiss below my ear. “No, there aren’t. Nobody ever comes up this end. Not at this time of day.”

  My eyes flickered between his uncertainly, and I was embarrassed to admit even to myself that I wanted to do it. I wanted to taste him. I wanted the power of knowing I could give him that kind of pleasure.

  “You don’t have anything to burn me with here,” I said, voice weak with the need to taste him.

  His head tilted, and he smiled darkly. “I have my memories from last night. For now, those are enough. In fact, thinking of last night is what gave me the bright idea.”

  He kissed my neck again, his tongue darting out to lick, and I let out a breathy sigh, my hands wandering eagerly to his belt buckle. I had it undone within seconds, and before I knew it, I was lowering my knees to the wood-panelled floor and pulling his thick length from his pants. He was hard and beautiful; I whispered my lips over the head of his cock, and his whole body shuddered.

  “Christ,” he hissed in a sharp breath.

  I let my tongue slip out, giving him teasing little licks, and his hands went to my hair, my face, my neck, tracing my skin with a look of wonder in his eyes. That look made me feel powerful, and I held his gaze in mine as I slowly lowered my mouth onto him, taking him in inch by inch. He groaned, one hand fisting in my hair, the other caressing my cheek. I took in as much of him as I could, bobbing my head slowly up and down. Somebody’s laughter sounded from outside, and it made my heart pound. We might have been doing this in a dark corner backstage, but it still wasn’t private. Someone could walk by at any mo
ment.

  A pleasurable thrill ran through me at the thought. I knew that giving someone head in a public place wasn’t exactly on my list, but right then it felt like it should be. I was high on the act. On Jack. On being here with him in the moment.

  This felt like living.

  I swirled my tongue around his head, and he swore profusely, the deep, raspy words fuel to the fire of my arousal. I pressed my thighs together in an effort to relieve some of the ache, but it was pointless. The only antidote to this torture was Jack’s touch. I let him fall from my mouth to catch my breath and ran my tongue along his length. He had one hand braced against the wall behind us for support. When I took him back in, he growled and cupped my jaw tightly.

  “I wish you could see how you look.”

  I held his gaze, and his eyes grew hooded as they travelled over my form before fixing on my mouth again. “Touch yourself,” he urged in a deep, naughty whisper.

  I breathed in sharply through my nose at his command, and there was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel beautiful and sensual enough to do it. I let my hand fall to my thighs, then under my dress. Jack’s attention scorched as he watched me find myself, watched me soothe some of the need he was inciting.

  “That’s it, flower, feel it.”

  I moaned on his cock as I found my sweet spot and rubbed, desperate for release. For some reason, it made my desire to make him come grow even stronger, and my mouth moved on him in earnest. I slid two fingers inside myself and sighed. The air felt slow and thick like honey, like I was in a waking dream. My mouth and my fingers grew frenzied as I felt my own orgasm building as well as Jack’s. I could tell by how he became even harder in my mouth, how his growled words and whispered sentiments began to merge into one.

  I never looked away from him when I came with startling intensity, and a few seconds later, hot liquid hit my mouth. I swallowed before I could think about it as Jack pulled me up to stand and wrapped his arms around me tight. His pulse was racing.

  “That was incredible, thank you,” he said, a little breathless, his voice full of gratitude. Then he began to softly laugh. It wasn’t a mocking sort of laughter; it was a gentle, tender kind. “That’s going to be etched into my memory for the rest of my days, Lille. Just looking at your lips is going to be a struggle.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but thinking about that made me smile.

  Later that day, we were just arriving at the gazebo for dinner, hand in hand, when a loud ruckus sounded. I’d thought the scene Julie had made this morning was enough drama for one day, but seemingly not. People stood nearby as King bulldozed around the space, tossing over tables and chairs, fury and misery melding into one as angry tears ran down his face. He was on a rampage and drunk beyond measure.

  “Where is it?” he growled, the rumble of his voice making the tiniest hairs on my arms stand on end. “Which one of you took it?!” He glared at those standing by, pointing accusatory fingers at anyone who dared make eye contact. My heart pounded and I swallowed deeply, wondering what the hell had happened.

  “I swear to God, I’ll burn this place to the ground if I don’t find it,” he threatened. His body lost some of its tension as he slumped forward, bracing his hands on a table. “Thieves! You’re all a bunch of thieves! Will you try to steal everything from me? Strip every last pound of flesh from my bones until there’s nothing left?” Now he stopped pointing fingers at those around him and looked up to the sky as though talking to a higher power. “Have I not suffered enough for you? Have I not paid yet for my sins?”

  The stark suffering and woe that encapsulated him despite his anger made my eyes prick a little with tears. A moment later, Marina was hurrying to him. He turned away when he saw her, as though ashamed of his behaviour, and she reached out to place a hand on his elbow. As she tugged on his arm, he slowly turned around, icy blue eyes full of heartache.

  “What’s wrong, brother?” Marina asked in a surprisingly tender voice. “What happened?”

  “They took it,” he said, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke. “Somebody took it.”

  Marina began to rub his arm in a soothing manner. “Took what?”

  “The picture. It’s all I have of her and now it’s gone.”

  As I listened to him speak, my entire body startled with a sickening jolt. Oh, God. The picture. I still had his picture. I’d been meaning to give it back to him all day, but Jack had been distracting me so much that I’d forgotten. I felt for it in my pocket, fingers sliding over the worn edges of the paper. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like if I stepped forward now, King might try to attack me, thinking I stole the picture, when really I’d just found it and had every intention of giving it back.

  “Jack,” I whispered, and his attention fell on me. “I think I know what he’s talking about. I think I have his picture.”

  He stared at me for a moment before comprehension lit in his eyes and he held his hand out. “Give it to me.”

  I pulled it from my pocket and did as he asked. “I didn’t steal it. I found it.”

  “Don’t worry, Lille,” he said, looking down at the picture and taking in the image of the beautiful woman. “I’ll take care of it.”

  With that he walked towards King, holding the picture out to him. “King, mate, look, is this what you’re searching for? I found it today. I’ve been looking for you to give it back.”

  King’s eyes darted to Jack, and the moment he saw the picture, he swiped it from his hands. It was almost like everything else faded away as he held it close, peering down at the image. He blinked a few times, tears still on his face, as his body slumped to the ground and shook as though in agony. I frowned at the scene, my curiosity building to almost uncontainable levels. I wanted to know desperately who the woman in the picture was. It said on the back that her name was Alexis, but there were few other details. I had the feeling this woman had something to do with why King was the way he was. What on earth could have happened between them to bring him so low?

  After a moment, Jack assisted Marina in helping King to stand, and they led him out of the gazebo. A couple of minutes passed before everyone had fixed the tables and chairs back in place, and then it was like nothing had even happened. It was more than a little bizarre. One of the women who did the cooking — I didn’t know her name, but I recognised her face — came and asked me if I’d like some stew and I nodded, asking for a bowl for Jack, too. I thought he’d be back as soon as he was done with King.

  I was halfway through my bowl, my mind still fixating on King and the mystery of his photograph, when a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Jack. He sat down across from me, and I told him the extra bowl was for him.

  “Thanks,” he said, fitting his feet around mine beneath the table, but it seemed like his mind was elsewhere.

  “Is…is King okay?” I asked.

  “Marina put him to bed in her camper to sleep it off. He’ll be fine.”

  “Do you know who the woman in the picture is?” I couldn’t help blurting.

  He shrugged. “Some old flame of King’s, I think. When he’s really wasted, he sometimes talks about losing the love of his life, how it was some guy called Bruce’s fault. I don’t know many more details than that. He doesn’t make a lot of sense when he’s drunk, and he’s drunk more often than he’s sober.”

  I pondered his answer, wondering if the love of King’s life had died or if she’d just left him.

  “What did he do before he came here?” I asked. “Marina once said something about his life being very different before.”

  Jack met my gaze as he chewed on a piece of bread he’d dipped into the stew. “You’re very curious about King, Lille.”

  “Yes, I am,” I said, not bothering to deny it. “There’s something fascinating about him. I’d actually really like to draw him.”

  Jack tilted his head, now taking a swig from a glass of water. “Do you want to draw him for the same reasons you want to draw me?”

&nb
sp; I scrunched my face up. “No, of course not. I like interesting subjects. And different people interest me for different reasons. King interests me.”

  He absorbed my answer and continued eating for a while before he spoke again. “In answer to your question, from what Marina’s told me, King used to be really rich. Some big successful banker or something, but he got involved in some shady stuff and lost everything. Marina thinks he was being blackmailed, but who knows if that’s true.”

  “Oh my God, that’s awful.”

  “Yeah. In the end whatever he was doing caught up with him, and he lost everything. And like a lot of fallen men, he hit the bottle.”

  “Wow.”

  Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Wow?”

  “Yeah. I mean, to have it all and then lose it is kind of epic. It’s like the ultimate tragedy.”

  He let out a deep, cynical chuckle. “If you say so.”

  The smile that shaped his lips told me he found me amusing for whatever reason, and I scowled at him playfully. “So how come you don’t know more about him? You two seem to talk a lot.”

  Jack shrugged one shoulder. “We do talk a lot, about lots of things, but never his past. He obviously doesn’t want to discuss it.” He paused and got a faraway look in his eyes. “I guess we have that in common.”

  I reached over and squeezed his hand, feeling a deep sense of gratitude that he’d entrusted me with his past. I had a feeling no one else knew the full story of Jack McCabe, and it was humbling.

  Before I knew it, it was time for the night’s performance, and people were flocking in from the city to see the show. My hands were stained with all the colours of the rainbow by the time I was done, but I felt satisfyingly tired. I’d transformed kids and even some adults into a whole variety of creatures, from real to mythical, and I was so looking forward to sleep.

  Jack had given me a key for his camper, so I tiredly trudged my way there. Lola walked with me, then continued on to Violet’s. I must have been caught up in all the activity after the show, because when I arrived, Jack was already inside. He lay on his bed, reading. All he wore was his black lounge pants, and his long hair hung wet at his shoulders. I came in quietly and set my things at the foot of the bed. We smiled at one another, not saying a word, and I went to kick off my shoes and leave my sketchpad and face paints on the dresser.