The Circus Crown

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They didn’t need to be told twice. The group took off through the yards and properties of other houses before disappearing into the night. Dakota allowed himself a slight smile. People hardly ever called him “sir.” He liked it. Scratching his leg with the gun, he slowly made his way back to the safe house, this time using the front door.

Unfortunately, talisman wielders kept strange sleeping schedules, with someone pretty much always awake if humanly possible. The one person among them who slept normally was Katya, and only when the others let her.

But in Dakota’s delight at resolving the situation, this fact completely slipped his mind. He walked into the kitchen, only to be greeted by two faces. Ken, and the elderly man who owned the house. The guy raised an eyebrow at his boxer shorts, but said nothing, choosing instead to turn back to his Bible reading. Kenna, however, had plenty of questions and even more comments on seeing Dakota underdressed and carrying a firearm.

“Tell me you didn’t go for a walk like that,” she began. “You know we’re supposed to keep a low profile, right? Like, not scaring the crap out of our neighbors?”

He blushed. “Some dipshits were breaking into the house next door. I thought maybe someone could get hurt or killed, so I ran them off. No big deal.”

“By yourself? In your underwear? Are you serious?!” It sounded like she didn’t know whether to laugh or be extremely concerned for his mental state. Hell, both probably seemed appropriate given his present attire.

Dakota looked down before shrugging. “The important thing is that I stopped them. Besides, I had a gun.” And talismans. And he did kill people for a living.

Kenna got up, looked him over suspiciously, and then poked him in the chest with her index finger. “Still seems like a stupid idea.” Letting out a sigh, she took a step back. But her deep brown eyes immediately focused on something even more out of place. And a thousand times more difficult to explain. “What happened to your leg, though?” She pointed. “What is that?”

Though he knew exactly what she was referring to, Dakota glanced downward and pretended to be surprised. Another lie to the girl he swore he’d never deceive. Feeling like a total asshole, he told the first reasonable story that entered his mind. “Oh, one of the bastards tried to get at me with a f*****g pen, which happened to be the closest thing to a weapon any of them had. It’s probably gonna bruise like hell by tomorrow.” He forced a laugh.

Injecting his medicine often left no mark at all, but on occasion, he hit a blood vessel or something. Since Dakota wasn’t wearing any pants, his shoddy needlework lay in plain view. He silently reminded himself to go higher next time. Continuing, “It doesn’t even hurt. Kid was a weakling.”

Unconvinced, Ken returned to her seat at the table, where she’d been getting in some late-night homework. “It’s a weird-looking wound,” she muttered.

“I’ll put some antibiotic stuff on it.” Turning to the old man, “Hey, Fritz, can you call the cops in the morning? Those kids broke a window. I don’t want anyone else getting ideas.” And Dakota couldn’t contact them himself. There was always the chance they would want to talk to the caller. Moreover, it made sense that the next-door neighbor would notice the broken glass and call to report it.

He nodded without looking up from the scripture. “Yep. Will do.”

“Thanks.” With the adrenaline from the altercation wearing off quickly, Dakota bent down and kissed the top of Ken’s head. “If we stop helping people, then all we’re doing is killing. It was the right thing to do.”

“It was dangerous.”

Straightening his back, he nodded. “Most of what we do is. You know that.” Heading toward the stairs, “Anyway, I wouldn’t have taken the risk if I thought I couldn’t handle it. I have zero interest in going out that way. Trust me. Good night, hon.”

“G’night.”

* * * *

Dakota felt like he could melt. Far into the throws of ecstasy, he breathed against Gage’s cheek and pressed as close to him as possible. His thighs gripped his partner’s sides, and he slowly ran his fingernails across the soft skin of his back. He could barely keep up the movement that continued their interaction: a slow but perfectly aligned undulation that drove Gage deep inside him.

Every part of him was familiar, but still so incredibly exciting, after all the times they’d been together. The texture, the warmth. How he hit the right spot over and over. And the vulnerability of being in his lap—it felt amazing.

And for Gage’s part, he was no inactive participant. He’d taken hold of Dakota’s unruly black hair and pulled on it gently. His other hand held Dakota firmly at his side, helping to increase the intensity and speed with which he moved. Dakota kissed him with all the strength and passion he possessed. He pushed his tongue deep into Gage’s mouth and relished in the sweet taste.

Feeling dizzy, “Are you close?” he asked, out of breath.

Gage smiled and provided a soft and simple kiss in return. “We could—I’m pretty sure—we can go for as long as you want, cher.”

True. Theoretically, their bodies were not subject to the limits of the waking world. They ate and drank only when they wanted to, showered for fun, and could f**k for hours without tiring or succumbing to pleasure too early. For kicks, they’d gotten tattoos last week. The sun and moon pattern used by safe houses. But, for the sake of realism, those were gone now. The goal, once more, was to make their exchange as close to one they’d already shared.

Which meant that they couldn’t have s*x all night. Even Gage, with his incredible stamina, could never do it, and Dakota wouldn’t last much longer.

“I don’t think I can hold out that long!” he warned. “It’s too much. You turn me on too much.”

Grinning, Gage increased the pace and wrapped Dakota in his big arms. “Then I won’t disappoint you.” He lifted Dakota up and pulled him back down. Hard. When Dakota let out a gasp, Gage only repeated the act, driving himself deeper without mercy. But, oh, did it scratch an itch! The hint of pain mixed with overwhelming satisfaction. Just enough to add to the event instead of creating a distraction.

He waited only long enough to feel him come before doing so himself. With Gage’s abdomen heaving against him, Dakota looked at him with a giant smile on his face. “You’re incredible.”

Gage laughed sweetly.

* * * *

Waking up was always the worst part. And not just because he had to do it alone or that it was hours after he came in his sleep. No, the real kicker was that his waking life couldn’t possibly compare to the world he’d created with Gage.

While the meds helped substantially, his hands still shook now and then. He often awoke with tremors. And the concentration issues persisted. Some of the drugs were designed to slow down and calm his immune system, which otherwise attacked his nerves, causing all the symptoms. But of course, doing so resulted in fewer defenses against more common illnesses. Though he started using hand gel and washing up with a near-obsessive persistence, Dakota often found himself sick with a cold or flu. He had strep throat twice in a six-month period. A sinus infection. Bronchitis. And one hell of a cough.

He tried to power through it, reminding himself that he had plenty of access to the right pills and care to make sure he didn’t succumb like his mother had.

But it wore him down. He always felt tired, either from the sedative he took to keep the tingling and shaking at bay or being sick all the time. And constantly taking pills and shots—Dakota hated it. He had so many. One upset his stomach if he didn’t have a full meal before. And, of course, he needed to keep them hidden from Ken and the others. They couldn’t know how bad off he was, or they wouldn’t trust him to go on missions.

There was no one else to do it.

He couldn’t conceal, however, the run of the mill viruses he kept picking up. Sniffling. A runny nose. A cough. Looking pale and queasy. Never mind the dark circles and redness around his eyes. That particular aspect of his face remained, regardless of his health status. Even on a good day, and he did occasionally have good days, Dakota couldn’t escape that exhausted look—short of putting on makeup to cover it up, which he had no intention of doing.

His incredibly observant protégé missed no chance to bring it up. “Sick again?” she would say. “You’re always sick. Maybe you should go back to the doctor.”

And he would lie to her face. “I asked last time. They ran tests, but there wasn’t anything wrong. I just keep catching stuff. Probably all those public bathrooms.” Then, as icing on the cake, “Or, who knows? Maybe it’s because of the talismans.”

“Adelaide never gets sick.”

“Hers is different. I don’t think we understand them very well.”

After each conversation settled down, Dakota would reassure her that it was nothing. That he could deal with a simple cold. That’s why they made cough syrup. And he’d make sure not to sneeze or cough in her general direction.

In the most recent exchange, his explanations and subtle joking didn’t quite do the trick. “I’m gonna ask her about it,” Ken proclaimed. “Maybe she’ll have a solution or something.”

Fuck. The last thing he needed was for Adelaide to be alerted to his poor health. Though she’d certainly noticed, if it was brought up as a genuine issue—“I don’t think that’s really necessary, hon. I doubt Adel would care, and it’s really not a big deal.”

“She’s no good to us if she doesn’t. But she’ll listen to me. I’ll bring it up in our next lesson.”

Great. “Good luck.”