The Company of Fiends (Tempting Monsters, #2)

by Kathryn Moon

"I like this sweet little clit too," Ronan said, the snap of his hips making me squirm and grasp uselessly at the pillows, my breath short and rapid, my finish so close I could feel my muscles tense and brace. "Like the way it looks just pinched between my fingers like this—"

I howled as he squeezed my clit, and then my breath froze in my chest and I couldn't make a sound as the pleasure struck, hard and quick, snapping through me. Ronan growled, stroking inside of me even as I clamped down so hard it was like I was trying to push him out. I reached for him and Ronan fell into me, my arms wrap...

"Don't stop," I panted, still shaking and fluttering. "You know I keep my promises," Ronan rasped, kissing my lobe, slowing his motion on top of me to give us both a moment to br...

Ronan kept his promise and I felt the proof of it the next day, groaning as I rolled over, the sound echoing slightly under the cover of his wing. His warm frame followed mine, curving against my back, and I sighed, snuggling back into him.

Voices carried up from the stage far below, and I tried to muffle the sound against a pillow, turning over again and hiding my face against Ronan's chest. His arm circled my back, a soft kiss brushing over the top of my head.

"My robe." My robe was filthy, forgotten beneath us for the entire night, and Ronan was smirking as if he was proud of the fact. A small part of me allowed that he did deserve some credit for the mess he'd made of me during the night. Later, after some tea and food and stretches, I might even admit to him that was by far his best fuck to date, if only for sheer and spectacular stamina. For now…

Between Antin and Ronan, I'd orgasmed so many times the night before that my eyes ought to have been permanently crossed, so why was I looking at this imp like he was breakfast?

"I'm hungry," I said, trying not to glance at his cock. "Thank god I don't have to rehearse. I'm going right back to sleep after I eat."

Ronan's smile grew even more smug, if that were possible, and he sat up, rolling out of the bed and to his feet. I admired the way the sun struck his rounded ass and wrapped my arms around my knees, resting my chin on top. I smiled as he bent over and debated teasing him with a whist...

He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, large hands cupping my ass and drawing me to press against him. "Forgive me for enjoying the idea of flying you down, in my shirt, full of my cum, after having you in my bed all night." He shrugged and pressed a quick pecking kiss to my lips before that bright grin returned.

I tucked my face into his throat, noting that Ronan still smelled of sex and something sweeter than usual, and then Ronan lifted me off my toes and ran for the edge of the loft.

My bouquet from Hunter was starting to droop, but it still made the room smell wonderful, and I wondered if I could find a way to string the branches up and hang them from the ceiling to preserve them. Certainly at home, but it would be nice here too.

Nireas was ducking into my room, still slightly bent, his stare on my hips and waist, sliding up to my breasts as I turned. And even when his eyes rose up to mine, he didn't stop staring, just tracked his gaze slowly back down again. "What do you need?" I asked, ignoring the effect his study had on my body, refusing to shy away from it either.

I'd meant what I'd said to Ronan. We'd all seen every inch of each other dozens, if not hundreds, of times, possibly even a thousand times when it came to Nireas. At least, he'd seen me. I'd never gotten much of a good look at him, only enough to know I was missing fascinating pieces of the puzzle.

He wet his lips, his eyes on my hips again, and then they dropped to the floor and he stepped fully inside, his head remaining bowed with the ceiling bumping against the back of it. I was tempted to offer him a seat, but he would take up ...

Nireas's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded, his head thumping lightly against the ceiling of my dressing room. I smiled at the sight of him, clumsy and too big for the room—pretty too—and he answered me with a fuller smile of his own, one so rare it took my breath away. I hadn't seen that smile in years.

"There's nothing." "Eight years together in this theater and you never, not once, got a little tipsy and fucked the stick right out of his ass?"

I puffed out a breath and pursed my lips. I was hungry. I was tired. Nireas was being strange after so long of…of nothing, and Ronan was a horribly persistent pest who could read me like a book.

"I kissed him!" Ronan blinked at that, head tipping, waiting. I shrugged and sighed. "That's it. I kissed him. Ages ago. Basically when I started here."

"I liked him," I said. "He was… He's different now, but he was nice and funny then. A little protective too, told me what rooms to avoid, until… You know how it is here. Some of the guest acts assume all of us humans are available to try on for size."

"So Nireas was helpful in that way, he gave me time to find my footing, quietly, without embarrassing me. I thought we were flirting, but it wasn't so fast, the way everyone else moved. It helped me adjust a bit. There was someone who just liked talking to me,"

"Just a kiss," I repeated, aware of Ronan's stare on the side of my face. "After a show. An act that made me a little uncomfortable. He had me bundled up on his lap and we didn't talk about it, but I know he was soothing me. And I kissed him."

Arms around my hips, against my back, hands cupping my face as we pressed one kiss into another into another, until I was flat on my back, Nireas warm and heavy and sweet on top of me.

I'd nearly fallen in love with Nireas. But I'd nearly fallen in love with a few men in my time at the theater. The only difference was I'd been falling in love backstage with Nireas, with conversations and kindness, rather than under the spotlight, fucked thoroughly for an audience's entertainment.

And once Nireas had stolen back that conversation and kindness, it'd been almost easy to fall back out of love with him. Or at least that was what I told myself.

Constantine had taken my suggestion from the night before and brought it to life on stage, and there'd been a point deep in the act, when my mouth was stuffed with Antin, right to the back of my throat, and my body was screaming as Con fucked me, that I'd thought I might die. It'd been thrilling and blissfully distracting from the reality of the day.

Constantine pulled me up, our bodies bumping together. His free hand cupped my ass, pulling me against him, and my eyes widened, staring up at him. He'd put his face to my cunt the night before, sniffed me there after fucking me, and somehow I still managed to be surprised by the tiniest lean in my direction. Then he stepped away, releasing me with both hands.

Strange and curious and just tempting enough to make me nervous.

I found Ronan's hand brushing against mine and I tangled our fingers together, his grip tight and reassuring on mine.

And what if the theater has something to do with why she was killed? DS Piper's voice echoed in my head. They, I corrected. Why they were killed. And now it looked as though the theater may have had everything to do with it.

And here was Hunter. Comforting and frustrating. As much a mystery to me as Constantine. But it was too late to bury the frenzy climbing up from my chest. The sob clawed its way free of my throat, my teeth aching from clamping down.

The sounds pouring out of me were painful scratches, my muscles clenching as I gasped for air, and Hunter held me through it all. There were no whispering reassurances in my ear, only the steady grasp of his body around me.

I wasn't sure if it was the tight grip of his arms or my reluctance to fall apart in front of someone else, but the shuddering slowed to a stop, my breaths panting into the smooth black dinner jacket I was pressed to.

He's self-conscious. I rose to my toes and Hunter quieted as I pressed my lips to his. Alexa has two lovers who enjoy each other's company, a tiny voice in my head mused.

"Your house is lovely," I said, settling my hands on Hunter's chest. "And your offer is generous. But I meant what I said. I…I look forward to spending more time there with you. At least for tonight, I think it might be best for me to stay here with the others."

"Be safe. I'll return for your next performance," Hunter said. His eyes flicked over mine and his hand grasped my chin as he glared sternly down at me. "We will have our time together again."

Hunter's lips parted and then closed again, pressing firmly together, clearly fighting some speech he was considering. He settled instead on leaning in for another kiss, a slow study of skimming lips and subtle nibbles, soothing some of the ragged edges of stress and worry squatting in my chest.

"Your heart may remain weary for some time, but that doesn't mean your body should."

I found myself blushing, leaning into the hand on my cheek, embarrassed and touched by the words. Hunter kissed the center of my forehead, his tusks pressing gently to my skin, and then pulled away, nodding in satisfaction at me once before leaving the room.

I could be truly sure of no one but myself.

The act was simple, and Mr. Reddy only talked Nireas into doing it twice a year or so. A girl sat up above the keys, Nireas licking her along to the music he played below, the moans and sighs perfectly timed to the notes, right to the gasping, giggling, singing cries of climax.

Why now? I wanted to scream, to march up and shake Nireas's broad shoulders, thump my fist down on his dark hair and yank. Punish him for confusing me eight years ago and again now. It was just a kiss then, and an act in the show now. I was the one making more out of nothing.

"What? What do you mean I don't perform as well with Ronan?" Mr. Reddy arched an eyebrow, rounding his desk and sinking into his chair with a weary sigh. "You're too wrapped up in each other on stage. You forget your lights, to face the stage. And don't think I don't know you two are gossiping through your teeth."

It was the piano act, for Christ's sake. Was my ego really so bruised from one rejection years ago that I would refuse one of the simplest acts in the show? Fighting the assignment just proved Nireas was more powerful in my own mind than he had any right to be.

As many questions as I had, they were too personal to my own feelings to ask. Better to treat this as any other part in the show. "I know the act and the music already,"

"It's all our loss if you do leave." My chest panged and my lungs seized. Not now, Nireas, I wanted to plead. Don't do this to me now. Don't come back to me now.

But to speak would be to open up those old wounds, let him see how deep he'd carved his mark. So instead, I marched ahead of him for the stage—the only place where I could expose my emotions and then pretend it meant nothing again as the curtain closed.

Most of my time at the theater was spent in Ronan's company, and it had been almost terrifyingly good, from the easy conversation to the drowsy sex in the early morning. It was as if my life was sliding in his direction.

No, it was that falling-in-love sensation, for the first time in years, tender roots tangling my heart around the little gestures—his arm around my shoulder, his wing as a blanket in the night, the sly look out of the corner of his eye when someone said something ridiculous.

If I could just stop picturing Ronan's stony, fallen expression when I refused his company in favor of Goliath escorting me home. And not just him. I'd been hounded by gazes all week, Ronan's flirtation, Nireas's focus from under heavy lashes, and Constantine's watchful glint coming from dark corners.