From this vantage point, I saw everything below. The beasts hooted as Mayhem hopped from one table to another, flicking his whip every time. He looked untamed and unhappy. These beasts were primal, unlike the beasts I’d seen at the circus. The ones I’d seen wore jeans or uniforms and even suits and track pants. These bastards wore kilts and no shirts. Most of them grew their hair out, and some grew long beards they braided into points. These beasts didn’t have tattoos. Most beasts loved tattoos. Mayhem had said they weren’t all of the same kind.
The foot stomping turned into a dance. Mayhem leapt from table to table, his honed body positively sinful, as graceful as a deer, as deadly as a hyena. I forced my gaze away from the scene on the floor and down to the balconies. Balconies meant exits. People who used the balconies had to come up somehow, either by stairs or an elevator. Like in a theater, one I’d read about as a child, but with the bar instead of the stage. I needed to land on that balcony’s rail.
I slid lower, then swung my feet, forcing the rope to move, and touched the rail with the tip of my toe. Almost there. I swung and tapped the rail, but couldn’t quite get a solid footing. Again, I swung my foot and landed, but I didn’t let go of the rope, my muscles straining to find balance with my hands on the rope and feet on the rail. I hooked my toe behind the rail and used it to bring all my body onto the rail.
I slipped.
Oh!
I held the rope for balance, my toes on the edge. Shit, I’d fall again. I’d die this time.
Cold sweat washed over me.
I balanced, my arms stretched out and holding the rope, my toes barely finding purchase. I tightened the muscles over my middle and slowly brought my arms closer to my chest until my soles rested on the rail. I crouched, gripped the rail with both hands, and smiled. I still climbed like a pro. It’d been months since I’d last practiced. Not bad, Reagan, not bad.
A door banged open.
I snapped my head around.
Mayhem appeared at the entrance to the balcony. His eyes positively twinkled. “Found you.”
I looked down at the whip in his hand. Fuck that. I straightened, stretched out my arms, and ran down the length of the rail.
At the other end, another rope was stashed behind the curtain. I gripped it and caught Mayhem in the corner of my eye. He leapt onto the rail and sprinted after me. I screamed and swung my body away from the rail. Now what? Shit! If I swung back, I’d hit the wall, and if I let go, I’d fall.
Oh my God! I hung onto the rope as it swung back right into Mayhem’s chest. His teeth were bared and longer than I remembered, and his handsome face now looked like a cross between a wolf and a man with the lower half of his face stretched and jutting out to fit his bigger teeth. An arm came over my middle, trapping me.
I tried to get away.
Mayhem cut the rope with his knife.
He balanced on the rail, but we were gonna fall. Or he’d just drop me.
He leapt off.
I screamed all the way down.
We landed on a table. It wobbled, then crashed.
The beasts surrounded us quickly, their eyes pale, their muscles straining, their teeth bared. I closed my eyes.
“Show’s over!” Mayhem declared and threw me over his shoulder. I umphed from the impact. I didn’t fight him. What was the use of screaming and banging my fists on his back? Nah. My head bobbed as he carried me. It was a long walk during which I contemplated my fate. Something I shouldn’t have done, because by the time the door opened and closed behind us, I’d worked myself up to a near-frantic state.
It was pitch-black in here. I couldn’t see anything. Mayhem walked around a bit and turned on a dim light. Then another one. Something flickered over the other wall, and as he rounded the room, I counted four candles, one in each corner. Maybe it was a ritual. He’d sacrifice me to his caveman gods.
After he lit the entire room, he plopped on the floor with a grunt. Under us were pelts, a bed of pelts, pelts everywhere. Still over his shoulder, I ran a hand through one. It was soft but not furry, sort of like a skin of a shaved poodle. Yup, pelts. Oh Lord, he’d make a pelt bed out of my skin! “I don’t want to die,” I said.
He swung my body and landed me belly-down over his lap. Again, I umphed. He tore my pants off and threw them on the floor. I felt leather around my ankles and knew he’d tied them. One hand pressed between my shoulders, the other landed on my bottom. “Ooooo!”
“That’s right,” he said. “O. Let’s spell a word that starts with an O.”
“Orgy,” I spurted. A short word.
“O. B. E. D.” Four rapid swats, and then he paused while I repeated after him. A rough palm slid over my bottom. “I.E.N.C.E.” He swatted my bottom until it burned, and then he flipped me over. “Say it all,” he ordered.