Free Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1) by Selene Charles

draw to them that made her believe that maybe the supernatural did exist.
    The woman in the cream dress turned around then, a knowing smile painted on her face. Lavender eyes (and no way were those real) gazed at her, daring her to look away. But Flint couldn’t—she was enthralled by the otherworldly beauty of the woman.
    She’d looked pretty from behind, but seeing her face—the model features—something was off. Very, very off about all of this. She was too beautiful. The ones dressed up, they were too pretty. Even the men. It was like she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and walked into a model convention instead of the circus.
    Why did her father want to work here? Couldn’t he sense it? More than just Adam’s nasty disposition. Couldn’t he sense the... offness?
    The woman smirked and turned back around.
    Every cell in Flint’s body knocked together, causing a rushing tingle of friction to burn through her veins.
    Then the lights dimmed and loud, pulsing music spilled like liquid through the tent. Performers came out like line of ants from their tunnel, their sparkling faces stretched into fake smiles, outfits—not quite as garish as most—catching the light. She smiled when she saw her dad. Without the coat, she could readily admire the cut of his black suit. Red and orange rhinestones looked like flames the way they curled around his thighs and chest. With a quick bow, he raced back and she clapped, even though she knew he couldn’t hear.
    She saw two other women wearing similar suits, one a brunette and one a blonde. But it was a quick flash and they were gone. Flint couldn’t help wondering which one it was. Then Janet was in the center; she held her arms out in front of her, fingers clenched, forming a circle that she easily stepped through, contorting her body in ways that weren’t natural at all, and Flint laughed.
    “Bizarre.” It wasn’t like Janet hadn’t already told her she was a contortionist, but seeing her perform a stunt was toe-curlingly weird.
    She bit her lip, eyes scanning the performers’ faces as they did a quick hop or twirl for the crowd. But her heart sank when the last man, who was in a top hat, bowed to the audience, raising the mike to his lips. His eyes glowed as he tipped his face up to the lights and slammed his top hat back down on his ash-blond head.
    “Welcome to Carnival Diabolique, home of the damned...”
    She shuddered. Not that she was superstitious or anything, but that was just creepy. Her father was Catholic. Not that they went to Mass much anymore, but why wasn’t he as weirded out by all this the way she was?
    “Hey, you made it!”
    Flint glanced up, smiling at Abel’s happy face. Plopping down in the seat, he shoulder-bumped her.
    “You ready?” He practically had to yell to be heard over the blaring drumbeat.
    She shook her head. “Gotta watch my dad first.”
    Giving her a thumbs-up, Abel settled back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head.
    She smiled, eyeing his outfit. “Why are you wearing swim trunks?”
    He lifted a brow, prominent dimple in bold relief. “The hole. You forget?”
    Oohs and aahs rang out as a tumbler wearing a snowflake-patterned leotard did a twirl midair, landing in a makeshift net of arms.
    “No, I just didn’t know what that was.”
    He eyed her jean shorts. “Hope you’ve got a bathing suit under that.”
    Flint pinched his arm. “If you wanted me to have a bathing suit on, you should have told me what it was. I thought you were taking me to a club.”
    Wrinkling his nose, he swatted at her arm. “What would give you that idea?”
    From the corner of her eye, she caught the glint of orange and red. “My dad.” She pointed to him as he solemnly led the procession of fliers toward the tower. And in that moment, she remembered the thrill, the exhilaration of the crowd. Wild applause pumping through her body like a rush of endorphins, making her feel like she could fly.
    He was almost regal how he