"I think he might be here tonight," I said, studying the audience but unable to make out any faces clearly through the glare of light pointed at us. It was a magic trick we knew—stare blindly out into that light, and plenty of the monsters in the seats would think I was looking at them.
"Legs," Ronan said.
My legs stretched around him and I reached up, grabbing onto either side of the silk cradle. Ronan winked at me, a playful warning, and then flapped his wings as he drew me close, turning us in a sudden somersault through the air while thrusting his hips and sinking his cock inside of me.
I let out a broken cry that turned to laughter as we swung forward toward the audience, flipping and swaying. Beth was tiny and graceful and used to the act, so she and Ronan made something dramatic and pretty out of it. Ronan and I, on the other hand, couldn't help but play when we were together, too good of friends to resist a laugh in the middle of a scene.
It didn't matter. The audience cheered as we swayed in the air, Ronan's rocking pace slow and wonderfully deep, using his wings to steer us so we spun in one direction and unraveled twice as fast in the other. I relaxed, let my shoulders and head hang, leaving the control in Ronan's capable hands as he fucked me and flew, swinging us back and forth, spinning and turning. At the corner of the stage, Nireas watched us, his fingers moving over the keys and pedals, making a melody out of our movements.
"Do you like him?" Ronan whispered. I blinked and almost stiffened, forcing myself to stay relaxed, elegant for the audience. "The orc patron."
Oh. I hadn't told anyone about Hunter following me home and rescuing me, and talking through my teeth in the middle of a sex scene wasn't the time to do so. "He seems sweet. A good kisser."
Ronan apparently didn't have anything to say to that, and I tested out my strength, rocking to meet him, the tempo of Nireas's music increasing slightly.
Ronan hunched over me, pressed his chest to mine, and ground himself against my clit until my breath started to catch.
"You thought I meant him," he whispered in my ear, his gaze gesturing down to the organ. "Our musical giant."
Gegenees, I corrected, but only to myself. Nireas was a kind of giant, I supposed, but his was an old Greek race.
"He's watching you," Ronan continued.
"He's watching us," I answered, gasping as his hips bucked roughly into mine, the silks shivering in my grip. "For timing."
"No, nut. He's watching you. He doesn't give a fuck about anyone's timing. Doesn't watch Beth," Ronan hissed my ear, nuzzling against my jaw to hide his speech from the audience.
Nireas was watching, his dark gaze holding mine as he played.
"He watches you in every scene, watches you in rehearsal, backstage."
"Stop," I whispered.
"Have you fucked him?" Ronan asked.
"No."
Nireas only did one scene for the theater, aside from playing music, and I'd never been offered the part. I suspected it was an intentional slight from Nireas, just another piece of a puzzle that formed eight years of him avoiding me like the plague, but I didn't want to say so.
"I bet he's big. That's your type," Ronan rumbled in my ear, and his hips slapped against me, drawing out a high cry from my lips and an echoing note from the organ. "Should I fly you down there right now? Thrust your pretty wet cunt in his face and—"
"Stop," I hissed, releasing the silks to grab onto the base of Ronan's wings, where they were especially sensitive.
He shouted, arching and taking those dangerous whispers away from my ear. I squeezed at the roots of his wings, and his thrusts grew urgent. He released my back, letting me dangle from the silks around my ass, his cock sinking deeper. The audience cheered as we both groaned, as what was meant to be elegant and slow became rough and clumsy and determined, almost animal.
And damnit, but Ronan was right—Nireas’s stare was palpable, a fold of concentration or worry on his brow as he watched Ronan bucking into me. Worse, I'd known. I'd always known Nireas watched.
Watched but never touched, although his stare was almost enough. It caressed over my breasts, skimmed over my lips, and tugged on the roots of my hair, written out in melody as he played and studied me.
"He wants you, and he won't touch you," Ronan hissed down at me.
I started to shake, my hands slipping from Ronan's back.
"Ronan, please," I whimpered.
"Show him, Hazel. Show him what he refuses to have." Ronan used the silks and the rough beat of his wings as leverage, crashing us together.
My arms fell back, legs spread but dangling, and the sound of the audience was washed beneath the storm coming from the organ music as I hung in an arch, body tensing and all but breaking with the force of my finish. But I couldn't close my eyes.
Not while Nireas was watching.