CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Angus heard Tamsin scream. He sprinted hard across the dusty earth, his focus on Ciaran and the hard end of the swing heading right for him.

If the ride had been at its requisite height as it was when fully set up, the swing would glide right over the two cubs. But now, it would slam into them, and it was heavy, and fast.

Angus was too far away. He saw a streak of red . . . Tamsin. But she was also too far to make it in time.

Dante came out of nowhere. He sprinted at the cubs, catching one in each arm and rolling hard across the ground. The swing sliced over the grass, spurting up dirt, before the frantic operators got the big ship braked.

Dante effortlessly gained his feet, still holding the cubs. He set Ciaran down and rested a hand on his shoulder, making sure he was steady. Then he hugged Brina hard against him.

“We’re okay, Daddy,” Angus heard her say as he reached Ciaran and grabbed his son into his arms. “You can let me go now.”

Dante hugged Brina again and kissed her cheek. “I know, sweetie. Daddy’s just worried.”

He set her on her feet, and Brina brushed herself off, unconcerned that she’d narrowly escaped being mowed down, possibly fatally hurt.

Angus saw Dante’s face as Brina calmly patted dirt from her shorts. It was a look Angus had felt often on his own face, one of complete love and also terrible fear. If anything happened to Brina, Dante would break apart, just as Angus would do over Ciaran. The time he’d lived through when April had taken Ciaran from him had been the hardest of his life.

Ciaran, sharing Brina’s equanimity, squirmed to get down. Angus released him, taking a step back as Ciaran rushed to rejoin Brina.

“Thank you,” Angus said to Dante, his heart in his words.

“Yeah.” Dante, today wearing a more ordinary-looking outfit of jeans and a T-shirt, blew out his breath. “That was close. I need a beer. But first . . .”

He turned around and started for the ride operators, yelling invectives at them.

The red ball of fur that was Tamsin peeked out from behind the office trailer. She waited until all eyes were on Dante cussing out the ride operators and then she darted through the half-open door. She emerged a few moments later, fully dressed, but her face, when she and Angus locked gazes across the open space, held both worry and relief.

The pirate ship was taken away and stowed, and Dante ordered it not to be used until the lift mechanism was fixed.

Angus kept a sharper eye on Ciaran all day, but no more incidents occurred. His respect for Dante rose, as did his gratitude. Dante could have saved his own cub and let Ciaran look after himself. That happened sometimes in the wild, and Dante had never known the touch of a Collar.

Later that evening, Angus bought Dante a beer and they drank quietly together, sitting out under the stars.

As the park darkened on Friday, and the citizens of Wichita Falls, a larger town than San Angelo, came to find entertainment, Tamsin vanished, and Ciaran with her. Angus prowled about looking for them, growling under his breath, until he came to a large tent with a long queue outside it. The sign in front proclaimed “Madame Butterfly and Her Dancing Wolf.”

Angus tamped down his fury as he pushed through the crowd and bullied the ticket taker into letting him by. The rest of the audience flowed in around him, taking their seats. Angus didn’t bother with a seat, reaching the backstage area just as a woman came dashing onstage from the other side.

Her red hair was nowhere in evidence. She had tucked her real hair under a short blue-black wig, her face hidden by a large mask in the shape of a butterfly. The tip of her nose and her lips were the only things visible.

The rest of the costume was a skintight bodysuit, shining pink and glittering with silver sequins in the form of butterflies. The light bouncing from the silver disguised her height and even her build somewhat—difficult to fix on her with all the blinding sparkles.

Madame Butterfly ran around the small area, arms spread to welcome the guests, who cheered. On her second circuit, she grabbed two large rings from someone on the other side of the stage. The rings were about three feet in diameter, and as sparkly as her costume. She held them out in front of her, spacing them about four feet apart.

From the wings shot a small black animal with pointed ears, black nose, and large feet that covered ground fast. Angus’s heart skipped a beat—he’d know that little furry body anywhere.

The crowd made a collective Aw sound. Ciaran ran once around Madame Butterfly, then soared through the rings and landed without a stumble.

The audience applauded. Madame Butterfly and the wolf moved around the stage area, with her holding the rings at varying heights or closer to or farther from each other. When she started throwing and catching the rings with perfect juggler’s ease, Angus’s breath caught. Caught again when Ciaran leapt through the rings, timing himself exactly right to go through without a hitch.

Angus exhaled when Ciaran landed, a smug look on his wolf face. The crowd loved him, cheering, clapping, and whistling.

Madame Butterfly brought out other obstacles from the wings—hollow tubes Ciaran could run through or jump on, balls she and Ciaran bounced to each other. The audience couldn’t get enough of the cute and clever little dog.

Two lanky men ran out from the wings and quickly set up a sort of balance beam consisting of a very, very thin round bar that hung about three feet off the ground.

Angus nearly stormed out and grabbed Ciaran before he could jump up on the contraption, but Ciaran merely ran under it while Madame Butterfly jumped lightly to the bar and started to walk across it. She moved with amazing agility, as though she barely noted how narrow the bar was.

Angus’s lips parted as he watched. He knew Tamsin was as light-footed as her fox, but he never dreamed she could balance like that—

“Enjoying the show?”

“Shit!” Angus’s bellow was drowned out by the crowd’s enthusiasm as Ciaran began leaping through hoops the balancing Madame Butterfly held up.

Angus swung around to find Tamsin next to him, in dark jeans and black shirt, her hair in a braid, a dark baseball cap on her head. He stared at her, jerked his attention to the act onstage, and swiveled back to her.

“Tamsin, what the fuck? I thought that was you.” He pointed accusingly at Madame Butterfly.

Tamsin gazed at the glittering woman, feigning surprise. “Me? No, that’s Celene. She’s far more graceful than I could ever be. She’s done this kind of thing before, and thought it was a great idea. That’s how she and Dante met. She used to be a tightrope walker.”

“Son of a bitch, Tamsin.”

Celene danced lightly along the bar, juggling hoops, which Ciaran leapt through, back and forth.

Tamsin laced her arm through his. “You didn’t think I would actually perform, did you? Someone might recognize me, even dressed up. Everyone knows Celene. And they think Ciaran’s a dog.”

Angus’s heart thumped. His rage surged, though he didn’t know why he should be angry. Tamsin had done the smart thing and not exposed herself.

No, he did know. She was a shit. She’d deliberately let him worry that she was doing something stupid when she’d planned all along to work behind the scenes.

Tamsin’s grin told him she knew exactly what thoughts spun in his head.

“How is this earning your keep?” he demanded. “Or are you hiring out Ciaran, like he really is an animal?”

She looked indignant. “I’d never do that. No, I’m their trainer.”

“Shit, Tamsin.”

Tamsin’s musical laughter filled him with warmth. Her heat as she pulled herself closer threatened to burn him up.

The audience loved Ciaran. They oohed and aahed as Ciaran leapt and spun, laughed when he ran in circles, his tail wagging. At last, Celene jumped down from the balance bar, held out her arms, and caught Ciaran as he leapt into them.

Everyone cheered and applauded as Celene let Ciaran spring down. They did a lap together and then ran off into the shadows.

The lights on the stage lowered, and loud music came on, encouraging the audience to leave their seats. They went, talking excitedly about the show.

Angus strode behind the curtain to the other side of the wings. Ciaran was already in boy form, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He was out of breath, flushed, and starry-eyed.

He leapt to his feet as Angus approached. “Did you see me, Dad? Did you like it?”

Celene had removed her butterfly mask. Close up, Angus saw that while she had the same height as Tamsin, her build was much slenderer, since she had the long, thin bones of the Fae.

“He’s a natural.” Celene beamed at Ciaran. “Don’t be angry, Angus. I did say we should ask you first, but Tamsin assured me it would be all right.”

“Oh, I know exactly who to blame.” Angus drew a breath, ready to send Ciaran home and forbid him to perform again. Ciaran caught his look, and all the joy went out of him. His head drooped, and he looked away quickly so Angus wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

This was special to him, Angus realized. Ciaran really had done well—he was agile and strong, and grew more so every day.

Angus let out the breath in a conceding sigh. “All right, Ciaran, as long as you don’t do too many shows and are in bed before ten. And it’s not forever. Just for now—all right?”

Ciaran brightened, then looked downcast, then brightened again. “Only two shows a night, Dad. And they’re short. But it’s easy for me. All I have to do is jump around like I always do. Celene holds the rings so I make it every time. She’s really good at it.”

“Nothing too difficult or too risky,” Angus said, trying to sound like a stern parent.

“Don’t worry—we rehearsed this,” Tamsin said. “Celene knows what she’s doing. Ciaran’s safety is the most important thing.”

“It had better be.” Angus scowled. “I’ll be right here every show to make sure.”

“Good.” Tamsin took his arm again. “I’ll be right beside you.”

Ciaran and Celene performed one more time, to another admiring audience. As Angus and Tamsin left the tent with Ciaran, who’d shifted and dressed, Ciaran asked, “Can I spend the night with Brina? Please? She wants to show me more of her games. Dante and Celene will be right there.”

Angus gave him a frown, but he didn’t dismiss the request out of hand. He knew the cubs really were interested in nothing but games at their age—Shifters had no yearnings for the opposite sex until their Transition, which wouldn’t happen for either cub for another eighteen or so years. Dante was proving he could look out for Ciaran, but Angus still had a hard time letting himself trust.

“You can go for a while,” Angus said. “But then I’m coming over to take you home. You’ll sleep with us.”

Ciaran’s eyes lit up. “Sweet! Good enough.”

He wanted to run off then and there, but he waited for Celene, in her regular clothes now, to join them, take his hand, and lead him away.

Tamsin walked back to the RV with Angus. The carnival was going strong—it was still a few hours until closing. The midway flashed, screams from the rides ebbing and flowing in the breeze. People strolled through the aisles, buying food and souvenirs, kids laughing as they darted toward their favorite rides, adults just as noisy as they enjoyed being kid-like again.

Tamsin gave an exaggerated yawn and sagged against Angus. “I’m beat. All this training and worrying about the performances has worn me out. Being a stage mom is exhausting.”

“Go to bed, then.” Angus untwined her arm from his but kept hold of her hand. “I’m going to prowl around a little, check the perimeter.”

Tamsin’s brows drew together, but then she smoothed her expression, slid her hand from his, said good night, and jogged away, her braid bouncing on her back.

Angus waited until he watched Tamsin go inside the trailer, then he moved to the darkness of the field beyond, undressed, and shifted to wolf. He made a round or two of the entire fairgrounds, keeping eyes, ears, and nose out for enemies.

He saw, heard, and smelled nothing but humans thronging the night. No other Shifters except Dante. No furtive Shifter Bureau agents trying to blend in. Humans who didn’t belong gave off a nervous scent, and Angus smelled nothing like that.

He returned to his clothes, shifted, dressed, and made his way to the RV.

Tamsin, instead of being in bed asleep, despite her claims of tiredness, was washing out the few dishes they’d used at lunch. She glanced over her shoulder at Angus as he came in and locked the door behind him, before drying the plates and stacking them in the cupboard above her.

“All quiet?” she asked.

“All noisy as hell,” Angus said. “But no one’s after us for now.”

“Good.”

Angus took the last dried plate from her and slid it into the cupboard.

He looked down at Tamsin, who stood inches from him. If he lowered his arm, he could enclose her with it.

His mating frenzy, and Tamsin’s, realized at that moment that the two of them were, for the first time in a long time, completely alone.

Angus reached behind him and snapped off the light and then bunched the front of Tamsin’s T-shirt in his big hand and yanked her against him for a kiss.