Cirque des Masques: A dark MM story by Becca Steele

Author:Becca Steele [Steele, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-29T16:00:00+00:00

15

Ollie

The motorhome door opened with a bang. I didn’t look up, remaining in the same position I’d been in when Dima had walked out on me. When I’d sent him away and told him to go and fuck someone else. He was probably with someone else right now.

“Oliver Twist.” Florin’s voice held a note of hesitance—uncharacteristic for him, from what I knew of him so far. “What’s the matter?”

“Go away,” I spat, images flashing through my mind of the last time I’d seen him—earlier tonight, slicing into the man with an expression of pure joy on his angelic face.

“I can’t. Judge sent me to you.” He sighed. “I’m to lock you in, I’m afraid.”

“What?” My gaze flew to his. He immediately peered at me, pursing his lips as his huge eyes scanned my face.

“Oliver. Ollie. Have you been crying?”

I grunted a sound he could take however he wanted to. I hadn’t been able to stop the tears from escaping, and I didn’t even know if it was because of the whole murder circus thing, that it seemed to turn Dima on, or the fact that I’d told him to go and fuck someone else when deep down, it was the last thing I wanted. I had needed space, but I’d been cornered and lashed out, saying things I didn’t mean.

“What’s the matter?” he asked again after the silence had stretched uncomfortably.

“Everything. This whole—” I waved my hand in a jerky movement “—murder circus thing.”

“Oooh! Murder circus. I love that.” His face brightened, but then fell when he realised what I was saying. “Was it me?”

“Uh. Partly.” I stared down at my hands. “How can you enjoy doing that?”

Florin flung himself onto the sofa next to me, shuffling sideways so he was facing me and curling up his legs underneath him. “I just do. Why do you enjoy the things you do?”

Meeting his gaze again, I shook my head. “I don’t know. But this isn’t some hobby. This is killing people in cold blood.”

“Mmm.” His lips curved upwards, his cheeks dimpling. “It is, isn’t it?”

“But why? Tell me. I really want to understand.”

He was silent for a while, deep in thought, and then he flashed me a bright smile. “No one’s ever asked me that before. You’re the first, Oliver Twist. You know these people are chosen carefully, right?”

When I nodded, he gave me another bright smile, and continued. “Then you know they deserve everything they have coming to them. I don’t do all the killing, but I’m pretty and I’m the best with knives, so I usually get my way. It’s art. Knowing where to slice, where to carve the prettiest pictures on their bodies. Did you know I cut a heart so perfect into our last Chosen that it brought a tear to Vivienne’s eye?” He batted his lashes dramatically.

“Great,” I said with zero enthusiasm.

“It was.” His gaze turned dreamy. The next second, his expression cleared, and he bolted upright. “Oh! I must tell you about the first time Judge let me plan the whole thing.

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