The Company of Fiends (Tempting Monsters, #2)

by Kathryn Moon

"No music," Antin said, stepping forward. His hand was extended towards me and I straightened, stretching my neck as if I might coax him into touching me, even as Con's shadow loomed at my other side. "She will be our music. Her cries and screams. You can do that for us, can't you, sweet creature?"

"Yes," I gasped out, some remembered burn of the day before rushing up to flood my cheeks. Antin nodded, and I wished for the trap door I was standing on to suddenly break open and swallow me. "We will begin like this," he said, voice gentle. "She should be dressed. Something fine. Jewels too, for us to remove."

I shuddered, my eyes closing to those slow and soft words. Every touch the instruction promised would be agony or ecstasy, depending on whose hands were used. And until the performance, I wouldn't know which. Worse, I didn't care. I was eager for both.

I set my hands on his hips and he settled his weight on top of me, reassuring and heavy, careful too. With my only scene dedicated to Constantine, who maintained his course of not touching me, and Hunter out of town, it'd been a rare stretch of days since I'd had sex, and I was surprised by the immediate clench of need that rose from Ronan's weight and his familiar smell.

"What are you doing?" Ronan asked with a laugh as I wiggled beneath him, pulling my skirt up to my waist. "What do you think?" I teased, bumping my nose against his and stealing a quick kiss. He watched me, wings shrouding us, as I settled beneath him, wrapping my thighs around his hips.

I rolled my eyes and Ronan huffed out a breath, head dipping and his lips stroking my jaw near my ear as he whispered, "Hell, Hazel, I'm tempted to let you. It's been weeks." I opened my mouth to say it hadn't—we'd just had sex on the silks together—and then realized he knew as well as I did that it was different like this, just us alone in my dressing room for the fun of it.

"Constant?" I squawked. Ronan scowled. "When's the last time you caught me fooling around with any of the other girls, Hazel? You haven't, because I'm not interested. I haven't been interested. Just like Nireas isn't interested." "Nireas isn't interested in me," I said, trying to rise from the chaise, but Ronan still had his arms around me.

"He made me come, Ro. A shocking number of times, actually. He made me lose my goddamned mind with a single touch," I spat out. Ronan's eyes widened, mouth gaping open. "And I can't wait for him to do it again. I'm going to scream so loud, and I hope Mr. Reddy has the charms in place because I think all of London might hear me when that demon absolutely masters me in front of everyone."

"Vampires, werewolves, demons," I said. And perhaps I was being a fool. Perhaps I would have to drag the detective back inside and hand him over to Mr. Reddy until they found a witch to erase his memory. But I'd seen new girls marveling over the truth of theater, stating how impossible it was. "And fae?" he asked. Fae. He knew. He knew they existed, I was sure of it now.

"No human walks into the theater unaccompanied or without an invitation to work. We have all sorts of charms in place to keep them out, to keep the theater safe and secret. What are you? A quarter fae?" I thought he might not answer, that he might even run from me. Then his tongue peeked out, wetting his lips before he spoke. "Half," he whispered.

"And…and this theater…" "It's like a bridge," I said, reciting words I'd once heard from Mr. Reddy. "A connection between the two worlds. I don't know why exactly, but humans fascinate monsters. A forbidden fruit, I suppose. My neighborhood isn't so wrong about Beth and I. We are…a kind of whore, in truth. But we only work here at this theater."

"Detective Sergeant, regardless of why you can walk through those doors, don't," I said sternly, catching his attention again. "You live as a human. You pass for one. You work with them. If you step into that theater again, you'll be walking in from the wrong world. This isn't a place you can snoop without consequences. The theater protects its own, humans and monsters alike. There's nothing for you to learn here that you can take back to your superiors."

"But you can't investigate here. Not if you want to keep walking in the world you live in. If you cross the bridge, you won't find the road behind you if you turn back."

We've walked a park together once, but you were right in my neglect of flowers, little one. - A lady's suitor I blushed at the words on the heavy paper, so simple and polite. It was the most gentlemanly note I'd ever received from any patron.

"Hunter," I murmured. "He likes you," Myra said softly. "I like him for you." I pressed my lips together, leaning down and taking a long inhale of the bouquet. There were branches of juniper and pine in the mix too, and all together it smelled like springtime, a little bite of winter just clinging to the edges like frost. I liked Hunter too, but I couldn't shake the feeling he had a version of me in his head that I wouldn't be able to live up to.

I shivered at the thought of Con's touch tracing down my legs as he removed the sheer delicate stockings, with briars and buds around my upper thighs. Usually, the company presented more urgent and carnal scenes, dresses torn away from girl's bodies rather than carefully removed.

"These are very pretty, of course." I suspected Myra herself might've been more in favor of large diamonds or rubies, or at least very good imitations of them, but I liked the necklace that looked like a wreath of glittering flowers. Orcs and nymphs had their homes and privacy in nature, and Hunter might not have known my origins, but he'd tied us together in his taste.

"Smart girl. Please that orc, rather than the demon. He's the one that's going to make a difference for you, I'm sure of it." I wanted her to be right. I almost even believed it. But I wondered if I was really what was best for Hunter. I liked him, and perhaps Myra was right and I even needed him, needed an escape from the company. But I hated to think of him as my meal ticket. He was too good for that.

Would being Hunter's human mistress fit me? Or would it be like the theater, where I answered to one man's needs and ignored my own, ignored half of myself? Hunter wanted the human girl, a fine lady to fit the image of the gentleman he cultivated for himself. I was neither of those things.

I didn't even know truly what I was, had never been offered the freedom to explore it. How could I find a place in the world for myself when I was always half in hiding?

The only person I was truly close with in the theater was Ronan, and I kept even him at arm's length.

It would've been a lie to call Beth a sister to me, or even to say we were cut from the same cloth. But we'd belonged here together, caught in the same small web of an in-between world. People left the theater all the time, so often I'd grown cautious of connection, but this was like Beth had been stolen from us. And worse, she'd been hurt. Not just stolen from the theater, but from her own life.

Monsters didn't come to care about the humans in the company, but to covet them. My eyes fell shut, and a moment later a steady, simple applause pounded from the other side of the curtain. There were no cheers or whistles and shouts like there might be for a scene, but we stood together on the dark of the stage for several minutes, and the sound only grew and held. Not enthusiastic, but respectful, carrying on like a heartbeat up to the rafters.

And there he was, sitting on my chaise with his hat in his hands, resting on a bouncing knee. He straightened as I entered, opened his mouth to speak as I crossed to him, huffed a laugh as I knocked his hat to the floor. "That one was new," he said. "I don't care," I answered, taking the hat's place on his knee and wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

Hunter groaned as I tipped my head and slanted my lips over his, sucking hungrily and teasing the seam of his mouth with my tongue. His arms wrapped around my waist and tightened, pressing my chest to his, dark claws snagging in the loose cotton. His tongue met mine, and I twisted on his lap, climbed closer, surprised with my own need for this man.

I moaned his name as his mouth traveled down to my jaw, and one of Hunter's hands slid down to squeeze my ass, t...

"I didn't dare hope for such a welcome," he mumbled into my throat. "You should have," I said, wrestling far enough back to hunch, to peck at his mouth a...

Hunter watched me with that same rapt confusion as I reached between us, my hands unable to make up their mind about what fussy, fine article of his clothing ought to be removed first. I was tempted to seek immediate access to his cock, but I missed the...

"There is something," he said, reaching out and catching my hands. I struggled briefly, smiling at him, but he held fast until I settled. "Which is?" "To taste you." I blushed at the offer, or was it a demand? "To taste me where, sir?" I teased. "Your cunt, little ...

"I sometimes wonder if we aren't speaking entirely different languages," I said, tapping my fingers along his chest where I could reach. Hunter's brow furrowed in confusion, and I dipped my head, pressing my lips to his for a moment and then drawing away. "What if I wanted you to make a feast of my cunt? Show me your tongue, sir."

Hunter's eyes widened and his lips parted, and in his surprise, he was unable to stop me from reaching up and pulling his jaw farther down. I arched an eyebrow, and his tongue stretched out, revealing its full length and dark color. Orcs had beautifully long tongues, twice as long and strong and flexible as a human's. "What if I asked you to fuck me with that tongue?"

I asked, watching Hunter's eyes as I leaned close again, stroking the tip of my own tongue up the center of his, the vibratio...

"Would you ask those things?" Hunter rasped, eyelids growing heavy. I wanted to laugh. It took twice as much talking to get a little fucking from Hunter, but his lack of assumption was sweet, and when I did succeed, he was well worth the wait. "F...

His growl was something like a purr, and he leaned in, breathing deeply at my throat, his hips lifting and pressing into me, allowi...

I restrained my flinch at the thought of Hunter watching me with Constantine. The orc could barely imagine me offering my permission for him to lick my cunt. I couldn't imagine what he might think of what was to come. Which settled me a little.

"Not for an hour, at least," I said. Hunter grinned and I sighed, remembering. "But you want several hours." "I do," he said, nodding, patting my ass. "Perhaps even just for licking, now that I know you have no objections." I snorted and then blinked as I realized he was being serious.

"You're testing my strength to resist you again, aren't you, little one?" "Whatever could you mean, sir?" I asked, grinning as I pulled my thin gown up over my head until I stood naked in front of Hunter, praised only by the vivid glow of his gaze as he drank me in.

"You know enough," Constantine answered. "Do you really think you could follow cues and scripts once I started to touch you?" There was something almost playful in the words, and I turned my head to look at him. He was still eerie, those metallic eyes bouncing back the stage lights, his body moving in one jerk after another, but I'd grown used to those features this week. We'd been close during rehearsal and he'd spoken softly. He hadn't touched me again, and sometimes I was grateful, and other moments I hated the waiting.

"Do you know what you're going to do?" "I'm going to touch you, undress you," he said, inching closer, close enough to share hints of rough spice and carmelly sugar on his skin, his breath an almost imperceptible temperature as it stroked over my shoulder. "Fuck you. I will hurt you and soothe you."

The audience was silent as they watched me, waiting. In this gown, fabric kissing and stroking over my form, and with these bright gems glittering on me, I was not the helpless human creature Mr. Reddy's audience paid to see. I was pristine. Hunter had taken great care backstage in brushing out my hair until it was glossy, and Myra had proven herself to be a much defter hairdresser than I'd realized, twisting my long auburn locks up into something worthy of a princess.

Suddenly, I understood. Constantine would destroy this version of me, unravel me in front of everyone. But he'd given me this moment, this brief, haughty dignity where I was beautiful and untouchable, an impossible object for any of the monsters in the audience to ever hope to possess.

Antin stepped forward, his hands stroking down my sides, drawing the gown down my waist, over my hips, and I fell back into Con's chest, sobbing and shaking, screaming when I could catch my breath. "Beautiful," Antin murmured. "Such a good girl for us. There now." His hand petted between my legs as the silk dripped down to the floor, and the audience gasped with me as I howled and thrashed and came against his fingers, my legs spreading wide to invite more.

They lifted me between them, and I twisted in their hold, my body entirely free of any thought, wholly consumed by the crash of agony and ecstasy meeting inside of me. Like flying, I managed, a wisp of a thought, before I was released, draped over the velvet bench, my back bowed and limbs splayed to expose myself for the audience's view.

I knew what I would say as Hazel, the practiced, obedient, professional actress of the Company of Fiends. But that woman was still standing center stage in finery and jewels. I had no cue, and my answer to the question was unwritten. "Touch me," I said softly.

"I want to be erased," I breathed, blinking up at him. "Never," Antin murmured back. "But you can be remade."

Con's deep plunge inside of me was the blade cutting me free of the edges of my own skin, Antin's teasing tongue licking at my lips the breeze that swept me loose in the air. I moved, rocked and writhed, because they were two opposing forces battering me between them. Antin's kisses drifted to my throat, behind my ear, and his hands guided mine to my breasts. "Share it all with them," Antin whispered. "Breathe, sweet creature."

I breathed so I could scream and cry and babble pleading nonsense. Con's touch was careful, but his fucking was ruthless, steady and rough, deep and electric. Antin grew gentle, grazing, and it threw their balance in Con's favor, my voice hoarse with howls and whines.

Explosive color burst inside of me, in my vision, and I was vaguely aware of my own mess of arousal slipping down my thighs, slicking Con's hips in their rocking. I clutched at Antin's wrists as he pinched and plucked my nipples, long pulses of heady pleasure meeting the bone-rattling shock of Con's driving thrusts. "You ar...

I let out a ragged moan, my throat already hoarse from shouting, and Antin lifted my head for me so I could watch Con. His head was thrown back, chest heaving, the silvery blue of his horns shimmering under the spotlight, sweat glittering on the carved planes of his chest, more like armor than muscle. He dropped his chin and...

Con leaned forward, and Antin traced patterns on my breasts as I panted for air I couldn't catch. The knife's edge gaze held mine as Con bent forward, lowering his face to my breasts, Antin's touch retreating to my throat, my pulse drumming so ...