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beyond any doubt. Yes, he had had that thought.
    Jecis pivoted to say something to another captive, and Solo stretched his arm through the bar, reckless in his bid to touch the girl. Just touch her. He had tolearn the texture of her skin. Would it be as soft as it appeared . . . or softer?
    With a gulp, she darted behind the male named Jecis.
    Finally Solo had frightened her. He bit back his bellow of frustration.
    The crackle faded from the air at least, but Solo’s body failed to relax. He wanted to carry the girl away caveman-style. He wanted to bang his fists into his chest, proclaiming to every man breathing that she belonged to Solo. He wanted to throw her enemies at her feet and bask in her adoration.
    He would never do any of those things, and she would never adore him.
    She wasn’t the type to crave a monster in her bed. She wasn’t strong, like the fire-breathing female, or rough, with an addiction to danger. As fragile as she appeared, as timid as she acted, she would scream for help the moment he approached her.
    “Told you,” Dr. E said in a singsong voice. “There was just no way.”
    His angry retort received the same treatment as the bellow.
    Like him, X remained silent.
    The little man had never before picked out a female for Solo, had even complained every day Solo had spent with his only long-term girlfriend, Abigail. The fact that X had chosen a girl who most likely belonged to the slab of beef about to announce he was the owner of the circus—and there was no doubt in Solo’s mindthe human was the owner—was almost too much to take in.
    Jecis was moving his mouth, obviously speaking to Solo. As entranced as Solo had been by the girl, he’d lost focus. “—accept this welcome to Cirque de Monstres. As I said, and as I’m sure you have already heard, I am Jecis Lukas, owner, operator . . . your new master. Might equals right, and considering our different positions, I’ve proven mine. If you do what I say, when I say, you will have an easy life ahead of you. If you don’t . . .”
    Cirque de Monstres . French for “Circus of Fiends,” yet Jecis certainly wasn’t French. Solo had traveled the world many times over; names, languages, and dialects were a specialty of his. The name Jecis Lukas was Lithuanian, as was his very slight accent.
    Solo hadn’t heard of this particular circus, run by this particular male, but he had heard of similar traveling performing groups. They were illegally operated, with unsafe rides, unfair games, prizes that were nothing more than stolen goods, tents where drugs and women were sold, and unparalleled violence waiting in every corner.
    Jecis continued his speech, saying, “You do not speak to, spit on, or harm anyone who approaches you. You just sit in your new home and look pretty.” He snickered at his own joke. “You might have trouble with that last one, giant, but that’s part of your appeal. Never forget that you are my pet. My animal. And if you behave, you are rewarded. If not, you are punished.”
    One word echoed in Solo’s mind: animal .
    He considered the cages more intently. There wereletters scripted atop each one, though someone had tried to scrape those letters off. He read Lion. Tiger. Ape . And on and on the titles went. Bear. Alligator.
    Forget anger. Rage shimmered just below the surface of his skin. The trapped otherworlders were to be the animals. They were to be viewed by circus attendees, studied and degraded. They were to be . . . petted? Fed? Ridden?
    He would die before he allowed a human to pet him. He would die before he allowed a human to feed him by hand. He would burn the entire world to the ground before he allowed a human to saddle him up and ride.
    “I told you,” X said. “Fear not. A man will eat the fruit of his own way.”
    “If that’s true, our boy should have a panic attack,” Dr. E replied with a smirk. “He hasn’t exactly planted the best of trees, now has he?”
    X ignored him, saying,