Allister, J. Rose - Discarded Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (8 page)

The laughter of a passing family caught her attention, beaming at her as they passed by. “A real Gypsy,” the children whispered in awe as bright, wide eyes stared at her. The strains of nearby fiddle music—tunes played for gadje shows, not the special music reserved solely for Romani—lifted her mood as well. From the time she’d been a child, she’d loved the atmosphere when their shows were in progress. Not as grand as a carnival or circus, perhaps, and even less so since the clan had divided. Still, Zakono’s Traveling Gypsy Faire drew visitors wherever their tents were pitched, and this part of her existence would definitely be missed when she finally left the clan to make her way in the normal world.

Her gaze drifted along the red tents and striped tents, past the tiny ticket booth to the white gazebos covering vendor booths near the campground’s picnic area. Spirits were always high on opening night, and tonight seemed no exception. Smiling faces were everywhere, Rom and gadje alike, shining in the bright, sometimes harsh lights illuminating the small midway. The line in front of the ticket window was longer than Talaitha had seen for some time, too. Show opening had been postponed by necessity when her father had gone into confinement, but the delay hadn’t seemed to hurt business. If anything, word of mouth had drawn a surprising number of oddity seekers to the modest mountain town, a location many of the clan had scoffed at when her father had allowed her to select their next destination. She’d literally closed her eyes and brought her finger down on the map—straight into the life of the man who claimed to be her mate.

She followed the heady aroma of incense over to the vendor tables, where a few of the women were selling handmade, and, in some cases, purchased “authentic” Gypsy wares.

“It’s nice to see you around again,” came a female voice as Talaitha fingered a hand-tatted scarf. “You’ve been missed.”

Talaitha smiled at Nadya. The woman sat behind the table, wearing a genuine smile and traditional Gypsy fare not dissimilar to Talaitha’s own. “You mean the others missed my contribution to meal duties,” Talaitha said.

Laugh lines etched deeper into Nadya’s care-worn face, its plump roundness accentuated by the braids circling the top of her head. “I mean I missed your company, not just your chopping skills.”

Talaitha’s grin widened. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear.”

Talaitha.

Russell’s voice sounded in her head. Her breath caught, and she shut her eyes for a moment to try and focus, shut out his call. It was a mistake. She felt hands sliding over her torso, multiple hands that were rough and callused from years spent tugging reins and repairing fences, or whatever it was exactly that cowboys did. Yet the touch on her skin was light and maddening, tightening her nipples into hard buds of need.

The whisper this time came right against her ear, heightening the sensation.
I know you can hear me. I feel you, Talaitha. You need me. I’m waitin’ for you, darlin’
.

“Talaitha? What’s wrong?”

Talaitha’s eyes fluttered open to find Nadya staring at her with narrow eyes and obvious concern.

Talaitha swallowed and shook her head. It wasn’t bad enough that the dreams had started all but tormenting her every night. Now her would-be mate’s call was coming while she was wide awake. “Nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just a mild headache.” She lifted the hem of the pale blue scarf she’d been admiring. “One of yours?”

The woman nodded. “I finished it on the trip here.”

“The weave is beautiful.”

“It’s the wrong shade to match your dark green skirt,” Nadya said, leaning forward in her folding chair to reach for another. “But this jade one would be perfect.”

The green scarf she pointed out was indeed a nice match to Talaitha’s outfit as Nadya held the scarf against the dark, rough fabric over her hip. “Still,” Nadya went on, cocking her head to judge the results, “I must say the
diklo
you’re wearing now looks even better.”

Talaitha’s hand went up to her head to feel the flat, silken scarf covering her hair. “Thank you.”

Nadya’s dark eyes met hers, warmed by a gentle smile. She knew the scarf had once belonged to Talaitha’s mother.

“I really don’t think I should wear a scarf, anyway,” Talaitha said. Typically, scarves or ribbons were worn by the married women. “But Papa says it makes me look more the part of a mysterious Gypsy for the shows.”

Nadya laughed. “With your dark beauty, you could hardly look more Gypsy if you tried. Still, you
were
married, if not for long. So why not?” The woman toyed with the ends of the ribbon that she had wound through her braid, ending in long flutters of purple satin hanging past her collarbone.

Talaitha fought off the automatic pang that shot through her at the mention of her marriage. “You may be right.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Nadya said, rising from her chair to smooth her skirt. Hers had a jewel-toned, vertical-stripe pattern that flattered her lean figure. Both of them wore off-the-shoulder peasant blouses that were practically stereotypical for Gypsy women, though more cleavage was evident on Nadya’s part than when Talaitha cast a glance downward. She frowned at the nipples she saw straining through the fabric, an almost-constant reminder now of her little werewolf cowboy fantasies.

Talaitha tried to paste the smile back on her face. “I’m not upset.”

“In any case, as fetching as your pretty hair may be, I think Zakono was right about that scarf giving you an air of mystery. Something to bring in more dollars from starry-eyed gadje men, right?”

“I hardly think that was my father’s intention.” Even as the words came out, she wondered. Many of her assumptions about his motives had come under fire during her separation.

“And Romani men, too, I think.” Nadya’s smile lit up with mischief. “Vanje seemed to have his eyes glued to you at every stop during the trip here. I hear he is faring better with his injuries.”

Talaitha shrugged. “He’s always been sweet, but I highly doubt he was eyeing me.”

“If you say so.” Nadya greeted a trio of women who walked up and began browsing. “Still, he’s a good man. Once he has fully recovered, you might be wise to notice the next time his eyes turn your way.”

Nadya turned away to engage the browsers in sales banter, and Talaitha’s attention wandered to the setting around her. When the entire marriage debacle had unfolded, Nadya had been kinder than most. But even she didn’t understand what had gone wrong. How could she, when Talaitha didn’t herself?

A familiar figure caught her eye, walking with purposeful strides that would have separated him from the casually strolling guests even if his Gypsy attire did not. Marko had been Vanje’s chosen replacement to handle the special attraction tent, and her neutral expression turned to a frown when she caught sight of the pole in his hand. The cattle prod was a foul device, one she hated to see come out on occasions when animal attractions were part of the Faire’s lineup. Knowing what—or rather, who—he would be using it on made the idea even less appealing now.

Her feet were moving before she even realized she was following him. Glimpses of his bright red-and-yellow vest flashed in and out of the crowds as he headed for a tent near the outer edge of the Faire. The tent was black and small but had a decent line of people out front waiting to see the proclaimed “Shocking Man-Beast Transformation” attraction. Marko ducked around back to the rear entrance, still unaware of the tiny woman on his heels.

“Marko!” she called after him, and he stopped just before heading under the tent flap.

When he turned, his wide jaw tightened and bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Talaitha? You’re not supposed to be here.”

She stopped and pointed at the pole in his hand. “What are you doing with that?”

“This?” He tapped the cattle prod proudly with a large, square hand. “A little insurance. You know what’s inside this tent.”

“I know that zapping people with that thing isn’t the best way to get their cooperation.”

His smile showed crooked teeth. “The prod is quite effective. I have no intention of winding up like Vanje.” The smile faded. “In any case, these are not
people
we are dealing with. They are vile, dangerous monsters. Best you get that straight in your head.” He pointed back the way she’d come. “Now, turn around and get away from here before your father hears of it.”

He waited, and she knew there was nothing she could say to change his mind. Vanje had been injured, after all. No doubt the wolves’ handlers would take any precautions they felt necessary.

She turned and headed away, though slowed her pace immediately when Marko disappeared inside the tent. She slipped back near the canvas fabric to listen, wondering whether she dared risk a peek through the gap. Three days had come and gone since she’d last seen the two men caged inside. A long, restless three days, full of unsuccessful attempts to banish them from her waking mind, much less her suddenly overactive dream life.

No, she shouldn’t risk it. Perhaps it was too late to close Pandora’s box altogether, but she should at least restrain herself from indulging her folly with another glimpse at temptation. She was about to leave when the sound of a man crying out in obvious agony reversed her decision. All but tripping over one of the tent spikes in her haste, she pushed aside the tent flap and ducked through the opening.

Inside, the tent was large enough to easily house the cage, which was standing roughly in the middle, behind a small barricade. A series of collapsible stadium seats for the audience ringed the front half. Only one of three strategically positioned spotlights was currently lit, focused right where her attention was riveted.

“What are you doing?” she shouted as she saw Marko pulling the prod back through the bars away from Drew, who had collapsed and was crying out and writhing on the cage floor.

Marko whipped around and growled. “I thought I told you to leave. This is no place for you. The privacy drape isn’t even around the cage yet to hide the filth’s shame.”

She’d been so alarmed by his treatment that she hadn’t even noticed that both men were as naked and magnificent as she’d just been imagining. “This is no place for
you
if you can’t treat animals humanely.” A jab of guilt accompanied her use of the term “animals” considering both figures in the cage were currently in human form, neither of whom appeared in the greatest shape. Drew was trembling as he tried to push himself up. Russell was lying on his back with his head turned away. A hot rush of anger and fear mingled in her chest.

“These creatures are not your concern,” Marko spat back. “Leave.”

Drew got to his knees, wheezing and gripping the cage bars. He was trying to speak, but his mouth moved oddly, making only “unh-muh” sounds. Drool slid from one corner of his mouth.

“Look what you’ve done,” Talaitha said, marching toward the cage. “He can’t even talk. How long did you hold that stick against him?”

“That isn’t from the cattle prod. I laced their dinner with monkshood.”

Her mouth fell open. “You did what? Why?”

“We didn’t capture them for their storytelling ability. The last thing we want is them talking to the audience. A nice case of numb tongue will see that they don’t.”

She gaped at the man. “Poisoning them is barbaric.”

Marko strode forward until he invaded her space, forcing her to lean back to see up into his menacing face. “Werewolves are barbaric. Or have you forgotten the proof that touched your own family?”

“These two men aren’t the ones who did that.” She glared at him, wondering why she was defending them when Marko was absolutely right.

“They are no different. And they are not
men
.”

She was starting to argue further when Drew started banging on the bars and waving. She and Marko turned to see him gesture wildly toward Russell, and her eyes flew wide. He was still on his back, but now his muscles were twitching oddly—and when his head lolled toward her, there was foam around his mouth.

Fear shot through her. “How much did you give him? Are you sure you used the right amount?”