Bound in Blue by Annabel Joseph Read Free Book Online

woman, Sarantsatsral .
    I suppose you could call me...Sara.
    Just like that, his heart was in his throat.
He looked up into the rigging, hoping the trapeze was truly secure.
There was no cushion or safety net underneath, no space-age crash
mat like they used at the Cirque. He’d been worried before, but now
it was his Sara performing. His Sara?
    One night , he reminded himself. You
spent one night with her. She’s not yours.
    Even so, he didn’t want to watch her plummet
to her death. He hunched over, biting his nails as the act
unfolded. The duo was fast and reckless, doing releases that made
his mouth drop open. She did somersaults, flips, and even
handstands on the narrow bar. Then she did them on her partner’s
shoulders while the bar shimmied under them, and he wanted to
scream at her, stop that. Get down! It’s not safe. It wasn’t
even really a trapeze act. It was aerial acrobatics, with a little
suicidal crazysauce mixed in.
    So many goddamn releases, so many skills in
the air... Sara, what are you doing to me? But her partner
always caught her, always propelled her into the next move. His
strength was amazing, her acrobatics were amazing, but the timing
was the awe-inspiring thing. So many opportunities to drop her, but
the man caught her every time in smooth, perfect coordination. The
translator clasped her hands to her chest and took sharp breaths at
each risky stunt. She was enjoying this. Jason was on the verge of
a meltdown.
    Then the man let go of one of her hands. The
audience cried out and Jason tensed, but it became apparent it was
part of the act, as Sara rolled into a ball and twisted around in a
circle, supported only by one hand. The man’s fingers were
miraculous, and she moved like water, fluid and sinuous. A flex of
arms and legs and she was airborne again, then caught and swung,
each muscle in perfect alignment.
    The act concluded with a lightning-fast
barrage of risky catch-and-release maneuvers, shock and awe as the
music rose to a fever pitch. If Jason had her back in his hotel
room, he would have caned her to shreds for what she put him
through, but she didn’t make one mistake. Finally, Sara shimmied
back down the rope and her partner followed, and they took a bow
for the cheering audience. The translator turned to Jason, her eyes
alight in wonder, and she didn’t even understand the important
things, like how strong the man was, whatever his name was, or the
precision of Sara’s performance. They had so much potential, so
much to offer Cirque du Monde.
    He couldn’t wait to get her there. She’d have
no more worries about a second job, or about money. What would Sara
think of the sprawling Paris headquarters, with its luxurious
practice studios and cutting-edge training equipment? What would
she think of the costumes, the makeup, the flashy sets? He had to
get both of them there right away, her and her partner. They didn’t
belong in this marginal circus, in their plain red leotards,
climbing a rope to their trapeze in a rickety tent.
    But after last night, how could Jason
approach her, professionally, as a talent scout?
    After ten solid minutes of applause the
program ended and the audience filed out, chattering happily. Jason
looked over at his translator. “I need to talk to them. Can you
introduce me?”
    They made their way behind the curtain, to
the dank, windowless staging area. Jason clutched his notes, his
Cirque papers that gave him an official, legitimate reason to be
here, even though he’d caned and fucked the shit out of Sara last
night. Never doing the local-pleasures thing again, no, because
Sara with the eternal blue eyes was part of the goddamn act he’d
come here to recruit.
    The translator led him to the man first.
Baat-something-or-other. She pitched into a lengthy introduction,
and was midway through it when Sara turned from her gym bag and saw
him. Her eyes went wide and immediately flew to her partner. She
gave the barest shake of her head. Jason