AN ORC OF MEANS
Isighed at the gentle scratch of claws through my hair.
"I should like to take her to my home this evening, tend to her. Do you believe she might object?"
"Oh, sir, why would any young woman object to such a generous offer? And believe me, she'll be bright and cheerful and so pleased to see you just as soon as she wakes," Myra trilled.
Hunter huffed and stroked his claws down my scalp again, to the back of my neck.
"If you're certain," Hunter said.
My eyelids were heavy, and they lifted with reluctance, just in time to watch Hunter pass Myra a tidy fold of paper. It vanished into Myra's skirt before I could make sense of the conversation.
"Should I call for your carriage?" Myra asked as my eyes fell shut again. "I can direct your driver to the back so you don't have to fuss with the crowds in the lobby."
Hunter grunted in agreement, continuing the soothing brush through my hair. I took stock of myself as Myra bustled with swishing skirts out of my dressing room. There was a sort of numb buzz in my sex and a soft ache in my breasts, and my whole body felt tight, like my muscles had been twisted just a bit. My mouth was dry, my throat itchy, and I rolled to my back with a slight whimper.
Hunter's thigh was under my head, his face upside-down above mine as I blinked my eyes open again. A thumb stroked down my jaw and over my throat, feeling my hard swallow.
"Can you sit up?" Hunter asked. "I have water and wine for you to choose from."
I fought to sit up and groaned at the resistance of muscles in my stomach. Hunter interrupted my effort, gently managing the job for me. I glanced down and found myself in the simple white chemise I'd been wearing in the first act, its ties still loose, and decided it was probably Hunter who had dressed me.
"Water," I said.
He brought the glass of water to my lips first, and I searched the room, relaxing as I found the green gown draped carefully over a chair. The water was icy and wonderful, and I reached up to wrap my hands around Hunter's. I gulped until the glass was close to empty and pulled away with a gasp of air.
"Thank you," I said, squeezing around his wrist.
He was difficult to read in the dark of my dressing room, but his hand twisted in mine, tangling our fingers.
"You're taking me to your home?" I asked.
His eyebrows rose. "You heard? Yes, unless you'd prefer to return to your own."
I bit my lips, wincing as I shifted on the chaise, my feet dropping heavily to the floor. I was sore, mostly from straining and stretching, but there was still some lingering sensation in my sex, and it made me hesitate.
"I have a very large bath," Hunter said, catching my eye. "And a very soft bed. And a great many oils that warriors use to soothe their bodies after battle. I believe you went to battle tonight, little one."
I held my breath as he leaned in, tensed as his lips touched my forehead, and then released a long sigh. This was Hunter, and while it would be a lie to say his touch did nothing to me, I'd forgotten the difference between the stunning power of Constantine and the normal, soothing pleasure of a kiss on the forehead. I pressed into Hunter's lips and pulled away at the same time as him. My lips were smiling, while his were turned down.
"That performance was not what I'd expected," Hunter said, eyes reading my face back and forth.
"I'm all right," I whispered, my voice not up to much more.
"You will be, with more care," Hunter agreed, pausing to stare at me a moment longer before asking, "Did you enjoy that scene?"
I took in a long breath and felt for the second time this night that I was missing my script. Did Hunter want me to say no? Was he disturbed by what Constantine and I had done, and did he want to believe that I needed rescuing from the deed? But Myra wasn't here to tell me how to please the patron, and I'd been honest with Hunter so far. I didn't want that to change.
"Yes," I said. "I did enjoy it."
"This is the truth?" Hunter asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
"It is." I was too tired to press the point, my voice too weak to elaborate.
Hunter nodded and steadied me against the back of the chaise as he stood. "I'll have honey water made for you. You'll need it if you're to have any voice by the end of Sunday."
I blushed as he turned his back to me, and he retrieved his hat from my table, on the other side of the bouquet he'd sent.
"I'll dress you in a moment," Hunter said, "But first, what do you think?"
He put the hat on his head, and I gasped as he smiled, tusks suddenly vanishing. His skin warmed and his eyes darkened too, and the tip to his ears was missing, but otherwise, the face staring back at me was entirely Hunter's, right down to his thick red beard and sharp cheekbones.
"You'll prefer the hat on now," he said, glancing down at the floor.
"No!" I said immediately, shaking my head as he looked up at me again. "But I certainly prefer this to the last one."
* * *
Hunter's homewas in a nice neighborhood, one that had been more fashionable a few decades before but was still quietly respectable. The home was large, with a stable and a coach house, and an almost hollow quality to it as we stepped inside.
"An acquaintance recommended the house to me, and I was able to keep most of the furnishings in the auction," Hunter said, watching me.
My legs were still wobbly, and I was overly aware of the uneven hem of my skirt, probably dragging in dust from the streets of my neighborhood onto the elaborately cut marble tile.
"It's very beautiful," I said.
"It's very large," Hunter murmured, looking around the space with a slight frown.
A gargoyle in a butler's black uniform waited by a winged staircase, granite skin polished smooth and expression blank. "Everything you requested is waiting upstairs for you, Master Hunter," the gargoyle said with a low bow.
Master Hunter, I mused, lips twitching, as Hunter guided me to the stairs.
I wanted to break away, go snooping through the house. I'd only been to a patron's home once in all my years at the theater, for a performance at a private party, and we'd been brought in through the service entrance and the house elf servants had kept a close eye on us. But Hunter's arm was wrapped around my back, and my body was tired. The promise of his bath, or even simply the bed, was tempting enough to miss a tour of the home. Still, on our route upstairs, I noted the empty places on a wall where the mark of a lost painting remained.