The last calliope notes faded into the night as the carnival grounds fell quiet. Colored lights flickered out one by one, leaving only the soft glow of lanterns and the distant hum of generators. The air still smelled of popcorn, cotton candy, and sawdust.Luna Voss sat inside her fortune-telling tent, legs crossed on a pile of silk cushions. At 29, she was the carnival’s star attraction , dark wavy hair, smoky eyes lined with kohl, and a flowing crimson dress that clung to her full breasts and flared at her hips. She had just finished her last reading when the heavy tent flap opened.Rafe Harlan stepped inside.The strongman was a legend among the crew , 6’4” of pure muscle, broad shoulders, thick arms covered in tattoos, and a barrel chest that could lift impossible weights. His shirt was open at the collar, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and dark hair. Sweat still glistened on his neck from the final performance.“You’re still here,” he said, voice low and rough.Luna look
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