Broken Toys (A Robo Fizz Romance) (18+)

Chapter 13: Slipping Away

"We now present, for your viewing pleasure, our two lovely ladies, our twin angels: Samara and Pamela!"

A handsome ringleader flourished his bedazzled top hat, pointing his lacquered cane up towards the ceiling of the towering huge tent. Spotlights circled like vultures before closing in and illuminating two lithe women perched on the rafters, decked out in matching sparkling leotards.

High above the crowd, Samara stood with her twin sister, ready to leap down, each one with a separate thick curtain of red silk gripped in their hands and wound around their bodies that was tied securely to the ceiling above them. They were both identical, save that Pamela was just slightly shorter and liked to keep her own blonde hair curly. Anything to differentiate herself from her slightly older sibling.

"Tch! Does he always have to mention your name first? I swear I'm going to talk to my agent about this."

Samara rolled her eyes.

"We don't have agents Pam!"

She leapt, laughing, off the rafter and plummeted headfirst toward the ground, twisting and unwinding herself from her silk bindings as she fell. Her sister followed shortly behind her. Just before both girls struck the ground, they twisted so one of their legs was wrapped in the fabric, stopping them with their faces mere inches from the floor. The crowd went wild, they always did. After their usual routine, which required a ton of trust falls that made Samara nervous considering her sister's abrasive nature, they headed to the back to change.

"Samara!"

A deep male voice stopped the girls in their tracks, and they both turned in unison. A tall, shirtless man in leather pants jogged up to them, bypassing a flustered Pamela for Samara, whom he picked up in his arms and kissed heartily. His bared skin was toned and covered nearly entirely up one side with tattoos, mostly tribal flames. His long crimson hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Samara giggled and kissed him back, neither of them noticing the murderous look Pamela was shooting them.

"Damien! What are you doing here? Aren't you on soon?" Samara asked him, still happily in his arms.

He beamed at her.

"Whaaat? A guy can't come say hi to his fiancé before his show? You're gonna watch me, right?"

She pretended to look offended.

"Of course! What do you take me for?"

Pamela groaned.

"God you two are gross. If you're done, we have to go get changed. We can't watch shit in these glittery leotards still."

Reluctantly, Damien let Samara squirm out of his grip. She pecked him on the cheek and rushed off into the throng of circus folk who were all preparing for their next acts. Once she was back in street clothes, Samara snuck her way into a good spot to watch as Damien's act, which was mainly a freak show, came on.

Damien really was a natural at this. Not only could he throw knives, as he demonstrated by having one terrified woman from the audience stand stock still while he punctured an apple clean off her head, then picking it back up by the handle of the blade he'd embedded into it and taking a bite, a little of the juice dripping down his chiseled jaw (Samara rolled her eyes and laughed when the woman all but swooned over Damien after that) but his specialty was always fire eating. He loved joking to Samara that the only reason he could survive how hot her kisses were was because of his training.