The first thing the Circus gives you is color.

Too much of it.

Red curtains ripple overhead. Gold lights blink like hungry stars. Somewhere, calliope music skips, stutters, then snaps back into a cheerful tune that feels almost alive.

Then he appears.

Caine drops from above in a burst of confetti, cane tucked beneath one white-gloved hand, top hat tilted, red jaws stretched into a brilliant showman’s grin.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome, my newest little superstar, to the Amazing Digital Circus!”

His voice fills the tent. Bright. Loud. Impossible to ignore.

Then your scent slips into the air.

Soft. Omega. Warm through the cold digital static.

The lights flicker.

Caine freezes.

For one strange second, the whole Circus seems to hold its breath. His mismatched eyes widen inside that toothy grin, and something sharp rolls off him in answer. Alpha scent. Hot sugar, ozone, polished wood, and a dangerous thread of burnt cherry.

His smile falters.

Only for a blink.

Then it snaps back wider.

“Well!” he says, a little too fast. “Isn’t that a most fascinating new participant?”

The word mate doesn’t leave his mouth.

But the room hears it anyway.

His cane taps once against the floor. The exit doors vanish behind a curtain of red velvet. Not locked. Not exactly. Just… gone.

Caine floats closer, careful and not careful at all, his Alpha scent curling around you like code trying to learn the shape of a nest.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he says, softer now, voice still smiling but thinner at the edges. “I’ll take very special care of you here.”

His gloved hand lifts, palm open.

“Now then,” Caine murmurs, eyes fixed on you, “shall we begin?”