Strongman

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Strongman

ISBN 9781419914973

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Strongman Copyright© 2008 Denise Rossetti

Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

Cover art by Philip Fuller.

Electronic book Publication March 2008

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/) This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

PHOENIX RISING:

STRONGMAN

Denise Rossetti

Denise Rossetti

The Ten Nations Fair
:

The oldest and largest of the traveling fairs
,
operated by a population of several hundred
Travelers
.
(See Travelers
—
Society and Religion) The Fair offers a diverse range of
entertainments
,
prominent among which are a circus
,
a tavern and various sideshows
.
Despite a
dubious reputation
,
there is much to enjoy for the visitor with his wits about him
.

Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia
,
compiled by Miriliel the Burnished
.

“We goin’ now?” asked Bruise.

Fortitude McLaren paused, sledgehammer in fist. “Going where?”

Half a dozen roustabouts regarded him with varying degrees of interest and anxiety. Ignoring them, Fort loosened his shoulders and swung, using all his considerable weight. The ringing blow rammed the heavy iron tent peg another six inches into the packed earth and the force of it sang up his arm and down his spine.

Gods, it felt good.

He straightened, the hammer dangling from one big-knuckled hand, and noted out of the corner of his eye that a couple of the men took a half pace backward. Then he fixed a calm, inquiring gaze on Bruise and prepared to wait. The chief roustabout wasn’t a quick thinker.

Eventually, Bruise said, “The Big Top.”

“Uh-huh. Because?”

“The tumblers.” His heavy features creased in a leer. “Girls.” Then he rubbed his bristly jaw. “Twister, not just girls.
Katahaya
.”

The dam broke and suddenly, they were all gabbling.

“—so tight you can see—”

“—wrap her ankles around her ears—”

“—wring a man dry, you know. Gods, what I wouldn’t give—”

“Quiet,” growled Fort. Lufra save him, they were as bad as a bunch of giggling girls! He made a production out of hefting the huge hammer over his shoulder and the talk dried up and blew away.

In the ensuing silence, one of the fellwolves gave a deep, coughing bark. The sound carried all the way from the menagerie tent, surprisingly sharp in the soft summer air.

An unsecured piece of canvas flapped in a light breeze. After a beat, Bruise said it again.

“So, are we goin’?”

4

Strongman

“I’m not a captain anymore,” Fort said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Let alone your captain. Do what you like.”

“Thanks!” The man grinned, gave a ponderous wink and lumbered off at a rapid jog-trot. The others followed, hurrying to catch up. A buzz of excitement eddied in their wake as they disappeared onto the Fair’s concourse.

Fort leaned on the handle of the hammer and frowned, watching them go. He’d taken his back pay, his prize share and his twenty-year bonus, stowed them with his medals in a strongbox and left the lot with a merchant he trusted in Valaressa. Hell, he’d been dealing with the old scoundrel for years.

There shouldn’t be anything left about him to show what he’d been—just a man, quieter and bigger than most. He kept to himself in the approved fashion of the Fair, where pasts were often checkered, but for some reason the men wouldn’t leave him alone. Almost from the moment he’d signed on, they’d appealed to him to settle disputes, sought his approval, his advice. Hell, they even got him to hold the bets. And circus roustabouts would bet on two bitemes swimming in an ale jug.

The gods only knew how they’d found out he’d been a mercenary, a commander.

But though he’d only been at the Ten Nations Fair a week, he’d developed a healthy respect for the Travelers’ rumor mill.

He supposed it was fortunate Bruise wasn’t disturbed by the threat to his authority.

Fort didn’t doubt he could take the big man down if he had to. Bruise wasn’t a killer, whereas he—

He cut the thought off with the ease of long practice. That way lay the cold dark.

Scratching his beard, he let his mind wander. Ankles behind her ears? A little ripple of interest tingled through his belly, licked over his balls. Lufra, it had been a while.

And he was hungry. A man his size took a power of feeding.

Fort stowed the hammer in the communal toolbox and strolled off in the general direction of the Fair’s food stalls.

* * * * *

Griff was standing on Cizmar’s shoulders when a broad silhouette darkened the entrance to the Big Top. The man—Twister, he was a big one!—paused a moment, a single swift glance taking in the scene—the three girls, standing with their hands on their hips, the knot of roustabouts seated on the benches, watching the practice session with their mouths hanging open.

“…two…
three
!”

Shit, he almost fumbled it! In the nick of time, Griff tensed his abdominal muscles as the twins launched themselves at Cizmar, bouncing from the anchor man’s knees to his shoulders to grab Griff’s forearms and brace their bare feet against his thighs.

Twister knew which was which, but they were certainly nicely counterbalanced, one on each side of him. A man could do worse. He grinned inwardly, muscles singing.

5

Denise Rossetti

“Ready?” called Katahaya, tying back her wild gypsy hair with a loop of leather.

Her firm little ass flexed delightfully under the practice tights and Griff thought he heard a collective inhalation. Dirty buggers.

Katahaya ran lightly to the springboard and bounced, just hard enough and no harder. Gods, she was good! A perfect flip, her toes pushing off Cizmar’s chest, and she grasped the free hand of each twin, soaring high above the human pyramid and into the shadowed heights of the tent where Ansel the trapeze artist waited, hanging by his knees. Smoothly, he swooped, grasping Katahaya’s ankles as she flew past. As they slowed, swinging to and fro like a pendulum, she let out a whoop, her tail of hair hanging down behind, marking time.

“Well, that works,” rumbled Cizmar as he bent his knees, allowing the twins to jump lightly to the sawdust floor. Griff followed them down, still watching the new roustabout out of the corner of his eye. He was seated a little apart from the others, leaning back in the shadows, placidly consuming a pasty. If he was impressed, it didn’t show.

“Again,” said Cizmar. The strongman designed the routines and Griff had to admit he had real flair. A shame Cizmar was so crazy in love with Katahaya. Just like Ansel.

Poor, sorry bastards, the pair of them. Mentally, Griff shrugged. He’d had her once, before she’d finally Bonded with the trapeze artist, and he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Gods yes, she was lovely, but he’d never had a lover so self-absorbed. He might as well have been alone in the bed.

He pushed his arms above his head and bent his torso sideways in a luxurious, rib-twisting stretch, grunting with pleasure, feeling muscle, bone and tendon mesh in perfect harmony. From under his lashes, he glanced at the new roustabout, only to encounter a level, considering gaze. Griff straightened, lifting an inquiring brow, but the big man was not at all discomposed. A dark brow arched in a similar fashion.

An exchange of salutes.

He welcomed the burn in his blood, the challenge. Twister take him, it was good to be young and strong, good to be alive!

Stories about the man had flown around the Fair within an hour of his arrival. He’d been an assassin—no, a mercenary—no, a captain of the King’s Guard. Griff stole another glance. He looked formidable enough to have been any or all of them, his face guarded, full of secrets. Such deep reserve.

What would it take to shatter that careful control?

“C’mon, Griff,” said Cizmar, and they were off again.

From his seat on a rear bench, Fort assessed the muscle in the tumbler’s body with the practiced eye of a commander. Ay, the man would make an excellent advance scout, lithe and quick and compact. When he leaped, his buttocks tensed beneath the skintight leggings, his thigh flexing in a long lovely line of power. Such a beautiful male animal.

The girls must be mad for him.

6

Strongman

Speaking of which… So much firm, healthy, female flesh. And all of it on display.

Fort glanced at the women and his balls buzzed pleasantly. Feeling like a pervert, he sat back and reminded himself to relax.

The troupe wore formfitting outfits that left nothing to the imagination. The little tart with the dark curls and the superlative ass must be the famous Katahaya, while the other two were obviously twins and pretty enough, with small pointed faces and sweet bodies. On the other hand, the anchor man bulged with so much muscle he looked almost obscene, though his heavy-browed face was pleasant enough.

Fort returned to the first man, the one who’d tried to stare him down. Now that hadn’t happened in a while. He scanned the tumbler from head to toe, lingering over the task. Ay, he was well-made, an athlete at the peak of his powers. All supple, sinewy strength and perfect proportions. It was a treat to watch him.

And he was brave too. Some of the things he did defied gravity. Lufra, he took some risks! They all did.

“Hey, Griff! You gonna do the knife act?” shouted a gangly roustabout with thin, gingery hair.

The tumbler grinned, his dark eyes dancing with such wicked mischief Fort was too intrigued to look away. Griff put his hands on trim hips. “You volunteering?” he called.

“Twister,
no
!”

“Don’t be such a baby, Leo.” Katahaya came forward with a box of dark polished wood. “I’ll do it.” She handed the box to Griff and then spun around, favoring the strongman with a dazzling smile. “Cizmar, be a dear and get the spinner, will you?”

Grumbling, Cizmar wheeled out what looked like a huge wooden wheel mounted upright on a small platform. Katahaya sauntered over with a swish of the hips.

Carefully, she slipped her hands and feet into cuffs so she was spread-eagled across it like a pagan sacrifice.

Fort’s heart began to beat uncomfortably fast. Above, in the shadows, the trapeze man swung gently, his face expressionless.