The Immortal Circus: Act Two by A. R. Kahler Page B

after.
    Kingston shakes his head.
    “You know the rules,” he says. “You didn’t want to know
about them. So I can’t tell you.”
    “Fuck the rules,” I retort, but I know what he’s saying is
concrete. He couldn’t tell me even if he wanted to. “What I don’t know could
kill you.”
    He squeezes my fingers. That alone makes me feel a little
better; he’s not treating me like I’m dangerous, so maybe I’m not.
    “Calm down,” he says. “You can’t kill me. Contractual impossibility,
remember?”
    “Tell that to whoever killed Roman and Sabina,” I say
bitterly. All this time, I thought Lilith was the threat. What if it’s me? What
if these powers are dangerous to the ones I love?
    “Their contracts were jeopardized,” he says. “You know that.
Mab went through everyone’s contracts and cleaned it all up. We’re safe.
Seriously. Whatever happened last night was a flare-up, a fluke. Perfectly
harmless.
    Right, I think. Because he didn’t feel what was going
on in my head, that insatiable desire to pull him so close we became one, the
need to rip him limb from limb to make him mine. I shake my head. If that’s not dangerous, I don’t know what is.
    “You aren’t dangerous,” he says. He brushes a finger
under my chin and turns my face toward him. “And you aren’t going to
hurt me.” He leans over and kisses me. The desire from before is still there; I
can feel something deep in my chest, something stirring with energy. But now
that I know it’s there, I keep it locked up. At least I tell myself I can keep
it locked up.
    “See?” he says when he leans back. “I’m not bacon.”
    I roll my eyes.
    “I’m going to prove it to you.” He reaches into his back
pocket and pulls something out.
    “Are those handcuffs?” I ask. He grins devilishly.
They’re silver and covered in pink fur.
    Kingston nods, his grin widening.
    “Melody lent them to me,” he says.
    I can’t imagine Mel owning anything with pink fur,
but I’ve no doubt those are, in fact, hers. Or Sara’s.
    “You’re going to use these on me,” he says. He leans over
and nips the tip of my nose. “My bunk. 10 p.m. Body chocolate, champagne, and
these babies.”
    I can’t help but giggle at how ridiculous this is.
    “You’re responding to the threat of me being dangerous with
bondage?” I ask.
    He nods.
    “It’s about trust,” he says. The grin’s still there, but his
words are serious. “I trust you won’t hurt me in the throes of passion. And I
can’t think of any better way of proving that to you than by example.”
    “You’re an idiot.”
    “And you love me,” he says. He leans over and kisses me,
then hops off the bed.
    “I’ve got to go help Mab interview concessionaires. See you
tonight.” He winks and then leaves, taking the fuzzy handcuffs with him.
    For a while, I just sit there with a stupid grin on my face.
Clearly, he’s over the Austin thing. But then the giddiness starts to fade.
Because I’m still left with a bunch of questions. I’m still left with a
headache that’s threatening to tear me apart. But at least things are on the
mend. If Kingston’s not worried, I won’t let myself worry. But that doesn’t mean
I’m going to let myself forget.
*
    Kingston wasn’t kidding about the body chocolate and
champagne. Or the handcuffs.
    My heart is still pounding and my skin is still sticky from
chocolate, but then he runs a finger down my stomach and the remaining syrup
vanishes, my whole body clean in an instant. He, I’m pleased to note, doesn’t
do the same for himself. I roll on top of him and stare down, a smile on my
face. He’s grinning like a schoolboy. His hair is a tangle and his breathing is
heavy. He puts a hand on the back of my leg. His touch is fire.
    “You’re amazing,” he says. His eyes slide over my skin, and
for the first time all day I finally feel like I belong in this show of sex and
intrigue. No layers of old-lady shawls. Just a strand of chunky