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“You’re a fucking idiot,” cap man mutters five minutes later as he follows his buddy out of the tent.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that this weekend when we hit the club, and I get all the pussy.”

The only thing he’s getting is a long, brutal night of violent diarrhea. Still, I count the hefty wad of cash, replace a fresh bottle of instant shit into the tin and lock it up for the next asshole.

I don’t offer the laxative to just anyone. They have to hit a certain level of foul to warrant the punishment.

Mama gave me the idea years ago when a couple of townies got too rowdy and broke a bunch of stuff. They were kicked out by Cook but Mama mentioned wishing them horrible diarrhea and I thought, why not? It’s easy enough to make. Then it’s all about selling it to the right people.

The rest of the evening goes by smoother. Most of my customers only stagger in after the bigger shows end and the last call gets announced. The last three are a group of women in their mid-sixties who wander the sliver of space, pick up every jar, tube, and canister, ask a million questions, but buy nothing before finally leaving.

I try not to feel irritable as I pack up the displays and stow the jars into their proper places for the night. In case Mama decides to check in the shop, I lock the crates and do a quick tidy.

I haven’t seen her since this morning. Truthfully, I avoid her most days, but she occasionally wanders her way to the apothecary tent just to find things to yell at me about.

The carnival is fully closed by the time I hurriedly snap the lock on the last container. The music is still a grating tinkle in the background. Most of the performers are already in their trailers or closing up their stands. The trio of townies have kept me almost twenty minutes longer than usual. I don’t even have to step out into the still night to know I’m late. Again.

Nerves and panic have my hands trembling as I fumble dragging the bolt into place. The air is charged with apprehension. I can almost feel Warrick’s impatience.

The flowing layers of skirts tangle around my ankles as I sprint to where I know Warrick is waiting for me.

He’s not.

I barely round the Big Top and there he is. A large, sinister figure standing directly in my path with his glowing red eyes blazing in the darkness. I skitter to a halt, heart thumping wildly. My stomach erupts with a cyclone of sensations I can’t decipher when all my senses are tangled in him.

He’s furious. His impatience is a wave of heat rolling off him and filling the entire clearing around us.

“I warned you,” he growls.

Bells explode in a torrent of chaos between my ears as panic scuttles up my spine. Clammy nerves turn my fingers and toes numb.

“I’m sorry. I had customers,” I try to explain around the jagged pants of air leaving my lungs.

Even from the twenty feet between us, even in the shadows, I can almost see the flare of his nostrils. The narrowing of his eyes. I know my excuses mean nothing to him. His hunger to have me is all that matters. And I have already broken the rules twice in two nights.

My core pangs with an odd surge of excitement at the prospect of another punishment like the night before. Even past the cloud of fear blinding me, I have to wonder if he would use his tail again. It felt so good, so different. A twisted part of me wondered just how deep he could go if he tried, or if he could fold it.

I shake the thought promptly away. This was not the time. He already cautioned me on what would happen if I was late again. He’s not going to be gentle or kind.

I have no choice.

“Don’t.”

But his warning means nothing to the frantic creature desperate not to get eaten by the predator. It’s not taking any chances when taking over my limbs and bolting headlong towards the forest.

I don’t check to see if he’s behind me. I don’t slow. I sprint into the night. The dark. I let the dirt pound beneath my feet the further I go from the carnival. From safety and light.

The moon dogs my steps, filtering a thin veil of illumination. Enough to save me from a broken nose. But not enough to save me from the twin figures that step directly into my path.

My scream is unintentional. I’d been so caught up in not getting captured by Warrick, I hadn’t been expecting to run into anyone else.

The two idiots from earlier stand before me, appearing as startled as I am, but they catch themselves faster.

“Hey, it’s you,” the blond one crows excitedly. “We were just coming to ask you a question.”

I stare at their shadowed features, baffled by their sheer stupidity. “What?”

The two exchange glances that prickle my apprehension.