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echoes of pleasure.
    “I’ll never leave you again,” he whispered.
    “I know,” she replied, smiling as she settled her cheek to his shoulder, and felt at last like she had found a home. And that home was him. No more settling, no more fantasizing. He wasn’t a dream; he was real. And he was hers.
    In the languor of post-lovemaking, she found that she could focus more. She thought about their first nights together. One the beach, the first time she’d ever slept in his arms, he’d told her about his family and how he’d lost them. He’d said there had been an accident, but she knew now that wasn’t true. Still, the sadness she’d heard enter his voice had been real. They’d bonded over always feeling as though they didn’t quite belong, over ambition they’d once felt but that they’d lost due to circumstances out of their control. He’d avoided telling her why he’d never taken over his family business, but now she knew why. All the little pieces of information that he’d withheld from her before fell into place now. And whatever else was missing, they had a lifetime now to get to know each other better.
    She was imagining what that lifetime might look like when the rear passenger-side window got smashed in, the passenger-side door ripped right off the carriage. Hands yanked her off Marcus and she screamed; he lunged for her, and then those hands threw her. She had a sensation of flying and falling, and when she landed, hard, on the ground, and she felt a sharp pain explode in the back of her head, and then darkness. Nothing but darkness, and silence.

Chapter 8
    When Liam threw Clara across the grass, Marcus dove for her, but then he heard the crack of a whip through the air and felt the tail of Baptiste’s weapon snap about his wrist. It yanked him sidelong and he went skidding across the ground, clawing at the earth to get to his hands and knees. He gritted his teeth against the rage that tore through his heart, the bear inside him roaring furiously.
    “Leave her out of this!” he shouted at the two of them. “You have me, leave her!”
    Baptiste was smirking down at him, his grip firm on the whip still wrapped about Marcus’s wrist, and Liam looked towards where Clara was sprawled unconscious across the grass. She was still half-dressed, and Marcus felt a hiss pass between his teeth when he saw Liam take in the sight of her exposed breasts, her lush thighs. The hiss brought Liam’s eyes back to him, and the big man arched an eyebrow at him and shook his head.
    “Ringmaster’s orders,” he said. “We’re to bring you both.”
    “Dammit, Liam, she isn’t a part of this and she’s human ,” Marcus gritted out. “ Please , man!”
    Liam shrugged. “She’s a part of this. As much as you. She comes with.” He jerked his chin at Baptiste, who started dragging Marcus across the ground with the whip, towards the carnival truck parked behind Clara’s car.
    “Don’t you touch her!” Marcus shouted at Liam, struggling; the whip was tipped with silver, and every time it dug into his flesh, it burned and poisoned his strength, and he felt himself begin to weaken. “Liam!”
    Liam shot him a sharp glance as he sank into a crouch above Clara. With a hard glint to his eyes, the large man began to delicately pull the girl’s dress back into place, settling the straps once more on her shoulders, and then he gently gathered her into his arms.
    “You insult me,” he muttered to Marcus as he carried Clara past him and towards the truck.
    Marcus felt all of his strength leave him then, and with his head bowed in shame and misery, he crawled on his hands and knees after them to the truck as well. Liam took Clara into the cab and climbed behind the wheel, while Baptiste drew Marcus into the bed of the truck and sat down there, with him still held in thrall by the whip. He curled up on the truck bed and felt his strength seep away, along with what hope he held in his heart. Not only had he doomed