The Company of Fiends (Tempting Monsters, #2)

by Kathryn Moon

There was something about the theater that reminded me of a church. Or what I imagined of them. Pa had never taken me inside one. I think he was afraid of me being struck down by the Lord's might.

There was even a vast organ taking up the wall to the right of the stage, although I imagined it wasn't chorales and hymns it would deliver to audiences. Forgive me, Pa, I thought, walking slowly forward and staring at the dark floorboards, scuffed and marked with chalk. I think this is the only place left for me.

Pa had hidden me from this world as much as he was able, and the only monsters I'd ever met had come to our tiny flat disguised as humans. In truth, Pa had hidden me from humans too.

What are you? I wanted to ask. But I bit my tongue and raised my eyes again to meet his, forcing myself not to gape or flinch or gasp. "Hazel Nix." His top eye blinked first, and then the lower two, and I found myself smiling up at him. His hand was cool and large around mine. I followed the lead of the gentle tug as he drew me out onto the stage and then around the curtains hanging solemnly like columns.

"Don't go exploring alone until…until you know what you'll find," Nireas said.

The door swung open, and my eyes fell to the floor after one brief glance. There was a feminine gasp, but this time, it was from the woman splayed out on a cluttered desk, her blouse hanging open to reveal bouncing breasts as the older man bucked forward between her hips. This is what you came here for, I reminded myself. You knew. Don't balk or they'll send you away.

Mrs. Elliston, who'd come to clean our flat every other Wednesday, had once told me it was God's gift to women that He didn't let men's desires rise again when they'd just been satisfied, otherwise women would never get a chance to learn that our feet were for standing. I took it as a small reassurance now that I was alone with the man.

"My mother was a nymph," I said. "She left me at my father's door." Mr. Reddy nodded slowly and hummed. "Flighty little creatures. Very commitment averse. Incredible fucks."

Both experiences were short events. I'd already learned more about sex while walking through the underbelly of the theater. Mr. Reddy shrugged. "The girls would get jealous if you got featured right away anyways. You'll get your practice, and you'll start slow. But be careful backstage. We’re not used to innocents in these halls."

"I know what you walked in on, but girls only come to my office when they want something. If that something is a day off or a good part, we talk. If it's a quick fuck, they hop on the desk. It's up to them. You understand?"

I nodded again, my nerves and worry settling. The truth was, those two brief experiences of sex had taught me only one thing—I wanted more. I wasn't even sure why. I hadn't moaned or giggled like the women here at the theater. I hadn't sweat and rutted like Mr. Reddy. I'd liked being touched. I'd liked the wonder on the young men's faces. No one had ever looked at me that way before, awed and thrilled, like I was exactly what they'd hoped for.

My hands slapped against the floor and I let out a long cry, bracing against the brutal thrusts of the demon, Eston, kneeling behind me. His hands were scorching on my hips, his rhythm steady and mechanical. Just a rough and constant in and out.

I huffed and let my head fall forward, bearing my weight on one palm to reach beneath. My teeth grit as I found a grip on his enormous, heavy sac, the heat burning my palm as I squeezed. I joined Eston in shouting, his bellow in earnest pleasure and mine in frustrated effort. But in the busy mess of the stage scene—one with so many amorous pairings to appreciate at once—I was sure no one in the audience would notice the difference.

Applause roared and I turned my head, able to catch a brief glimpse of the audience standing and clapping, or embracing and rutting in their seats. My lips curled up at the sight of the joyous, beaming faces pressed together, watching us, adoring us. Those faces, those stares, the cries for more…the audience was why I was still here after all these years. Then the curtain swung shut, and I let out a long sigh.

Eston hissed, nudging inside of me again, more gently, before falling back on his heels. "Thanks, Hazel." I waved a hand, giving myself a moment of rest, my ass and hips and cunt still stinging from working with Eston. It would heal soon, thanks to my mother's blood, which was why I was always the choice to pair with Eston.

The dressing room hall reeked of sex every night of a show, full of sweaty bodies and us girls with our thighs pressed tight together until we had a chance to clean up. But it would be right and fresh by morning again.

I squeezed past the others, too used to this routine to care when a clawed hand patted at my breast or a tail slipped between my legs to tease. They were friendly gestures from familiar monsters, nothing more. No one followed me into my small but private dressing room, a space barely wide enough to be considered more than a closet, but one of the few that wasn't shared and wasn't for a guest-starring monster.

I'd learned not to get attached to many people in the theater—a bittersweet lesson ingrained in me by years of repetition. Monsters came and went. Girls grew tired of the work. Only Mr. Reddy, Myra, and a few others like Nireas had been here as long as I had now. Ronan had arrived three years ago, a new imp to replace the one who'd just left us, and I'd done my best to ignore his enthusiasm and energy. He would grow weary like the rest of them, and then he would leave.

"He's there to make the stage prettier." "That's your job, nut," Ronan corrected, and I bit my lip as his numbing fingers stroked my sex, soothing and teasing me all at once. "My job is to make him look like the world's best fuck, and to make sure he comes at the musical cue," I said.

He'd been easy enough to ignore after five years of seductive visitors who always left, but then he went and made me come three times in our first scene on stage together. That kind of talent was hard to only sample once.

"Come on. We both know what it takes to organize a simultaneous orgasm," Ronan teased. It's always shockingly easy with you, I thought, but I only released a soft sound of relief as he slid those cold fingers inside of me, pumping out some of Eston's release.

"Bastard!" "Mmm, it's true," Ronan murmured, leaning in and licking gently over one of my bruises as the snow melted against me. I wasn't sure if he meant to defend his statement about orcs or affirm that he was a bastard, and as he rubbed against my nearly numb clit, drawing back sensation, I didn't really care. "Maybe I will fuck the orc," I said, shrugging. "Well-dressed means moneyed."

Ronan nipped at my ass, frozen fingers plunging inside of me and drawing out a rough gasp from my throat. "Moneyed might mean he wants a little human pet in a pretty apartment," I continued, breaths ragged as Ronan's touch fucked me smoothly, warming quickly in the heat between us, cool water and demon's cum splashing out against my thighs. "I've been thinking about retiring."

"Moneyed might just mean he wants to pay for a scene with you," Ronan said. "Just one more guest monster rutting under the spotlight, thinking that fucking you in front of the audience means his cock is worth more than theirs."

It was tempting. Ronan was the only man I'd ever met who would genuinely enjoy finishing a girl and taking nothing for himself. Oh, he might try and talk you into sucking him off or taking a ride, but he was always cheerful, even when you refused. And there was a kind of power in being able to say no without any consequence, not even a cold shoulder. His thumb was on my clit, fingers searching gently inside of me, warm mouth dragging up and down my spine with little fiery flicks of his tongue. It did feel good, a sweet contrast with the faint aches remaining from Eston. But I was tired.

I turned to face him, tilting my head back a little to study him. His smile was easy, no sign of offense, maybe just a hint of disappointment in those firelit eyes of his. I rose to my toes and Ronan ducked, meeting me in an easy kiss, familiar and delicious all at once. He tasted a little like butter and spice, I'd always thought, something that warmed on my tongue and was always pleasant to return to. "Sorry for teasing," he rasped out, nose nudging mine, hands warm on my hips. And curled into him like this, with that spice on my tongue and his whisper in my ear, I could almost change my mind.

"Hazel, this is Hunter. Hunter, this is one of our very best actresses, Hazel Nix." He bowed, which was almost laughable down here in our shabby dressing rooms, and I managed an awkward curtsey.

There would be one of the stagehands in the hall for me to shout if I needed, but I watched this massive man hover in the doorway, stepping out of Myra's way as she exited, and knew I wouldn't have trouble. A pushy patron would've been on the chaise by now, patting the cushion or his lap and waiting for me to join him. This orc, Hunter, remained in place, the curtain parted and resting against his shoulder.

Hunter's head turned to glance down the length of the hallway, the noise at full volume, which meant I'd slept through curtain call. I enjoyed a brief glimpse of his face in profile—a very strong nose and a promising mouth—and then he stepped in, the curtain shutting and its spell-woven fabric dulling the sound.

He'd only just stepped inside, no farther. Not at all pushy. He would take coaxing to flirt with. I turned and flounced down onto the chaise, aware my robe would flash skin for him to admire, and this time, I was the one patting the cushion.

"Your performances, in particular, are my favorite," Hunter said, ducking his head and offering relief from those bright eyes. Now that it was gone, I was determined to draw it back again. I twisted, drawing out a slow smile on my lips as the robe slipped down on one side, revealing my leg. "What, in particular, about my performances makes them your favorite?"

I'd met plenty of orcs at the theater, and to my knowledge, they were a lusty, boisterous, eager species. Especially when it came to fucking. I didn't know many that would need such a strong invitation to touch a woman, let alone to flirt with one. And while Hunter's eyes fastened to my bared thigh, the yellow light within them blazing, his hands fisted at his side and he didn't move an inch.

"I hope it is not…untoward of me," he said, the words slow and careful like he was reciting them, those eyes finally raising to mine. "But it was your attention to your partners." My lips were parted, prepared to continue teasing him, but his answer wiped all my wit away. I'd expected a comment about my body or the sounds I ...

"You take great care to watch them, to move with them. More than anyone else in the theater," Hunter said, with such incredible sincerity that I was at a loss for words. It's my job, I thought, but Reddy and Myra liked us to keep up a certain illusion that we were all here for the fun of it, not the money. It wouldn't be half as fun for ou...

"No, not uncomfortable. Flattered, sir. I'm very flattered by your words." Hunter's tusks dug into his upper lip as he smiled, and I rose up from the chaise, holding him in place by that tiny anchor of my hand on his wrist. I stepped forward, and he huffed softly before taking a deep breath. I was tired and still sore, but this orc was so charmingly earnest that I thought I might suffer a longer night for his sake.

"You are very kind," I said, pressing myself to his hip and watching the throat in front of me bob with a hard swallow. I was taller than any of the other girls, and still, this orc towered over me. I lifted my free hand and rested it on his chest, leaning in and arching to stare up at him. "And I'm glad you asked to meet me."

Hunter clenched his jaw, and for the first time, I saw a hint of the hunger and power I'd expected from him, a brilliant spotlight focused on me from those lamp yellow eyes. His wrist twisted in my grip, and I braced myself for him to pounce, to tackle me ba...

"You will come back," I said, the words firm. Hunter stood straight, eyes wide, and I folded my arms over my stomach. "You'll come to the theater again. To see me." It was almost an order, but it did the trick. He bowed again, smiling. "I will."

"Remember that time Myra brought you a troll at intermission?" Beth asked, giggling. I snorted and winced. "Mm, she learned not to do that again." Beth laughed. "He practically took up this whole room! Made all the walls rattle and rutted you right through to curtain call."

"And then she put us on stage together the next week," I recalled, laughing a little. I'd been sore for days after, but the troll had a dry sense of humor, and he'd whispered naughty poetry in my ear all through the second act while fucking me through a series of orgasms that left my voice hoarse. I shot Beth a wicked grin as I tore off my robe. "He was great fun."

I had never left London, barely left Stepney, but there was a part of me that knew what the whistle of wet grass and rush of wings and scream of a captured rabbit all meant. Home had always been here in London, and yet home had never been here, not for part of me. My mother's blood, I thought, breathing deeply.

"Hunter," I said in a gust of breath, my hand rising to rest over my racing heart. "What on earth are you doing out here?" He bowed, and that too was familiar, until the hat returned to his head and he was once again a petite and unremarkable little human man. I'd seen such illusions used before, but this one was especially good and so shockingly at odds with his appearance—another mark of this orc's wealth.

I had to grab his collar and tug him down an inch or so, even as I rose to my toes, but he moved so easily at my command. Kissing an orc was simultaneously straightforward and an interesting puzzle. The tusks were less complicated than you might first guess. Orcs’ mouths were broad and their lips were full. Hunter made the puzzle even easier, freezing at the first brush of my mouth against his, sighing and just barely parting his lips for me to wrap my own around the top plush cushion and press softly.

"Goodnight, Hunter," I murmured, blinking open my eyes to find his wide and staring. I kissed him again, and this time, he responded. A low and quiet groan vibrated against my mouth, and a strong arm banded across my back, drawing me roughly to his chest. I cupped his broad jaw in my hands, impressed with the silky-smooth texture of his careful beard, and arched as he took a hungry lick of my lips and a full press of his mouth to mine. His coat was too thick to know for certain how affected he was, but he held me still against him for a long time, only shifting the kiss slightly, a little whisper of a slow exhale warming my cheeks.

He took his hat from my hands, stepping away and lifting it onto his head, vanishing back into his human disguise. I thought even the dowdy little man looked more vivid now after the kiss.

“And bend forward now. Face down and ass up, ladies," Myra called, pacing the floorboards downstage. The two newest girls tittered at her order, but the rest of us slid into the familiar stretch, backs arched and arms extended in front of us. I took slow deep breaths as the last of the aches and kinks from the night before loosened. "Press up, lower your hips, extend your neck and head as high as you can. Tits up, girls!"

"On your backs now, girls, spread those legs for your partners, wide as you can!" Myra called, and we all rolled on our blankets, legs parting in the air. "Bend your knees, we want nice open hips. No cramping mid-fuck tonight because the show won't stop for you to stretch!"

"Two…two cocks?" Margaret whispered, brown eyes growing huge. "At once?" "One in the mouth," Evie suggested lazily. I shared a smirk with Alexa as Margaret's mouth stretched open, as if she was testing the idea already, and Christine giggled nervously.

"The longer you stay and the less problems you cause, the more Reddy and Myra like you," I said, for the new girls' sake. "And Hazel is their favorite because she can fuck anyone and always shows up to work on time and never falls in love with guests," Evie added.

"No. Listen to me. She's getting tired. And rightly so. I'm going to find her a nice man who will set her up in a lovely house and worship her all day long. Preferably with his mouth." I rested my forehead against the doorjamb gently, a warm rush of gratitude for Myra rising up in me.