Courts and Cabals 2 G.S. D'Moore (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📖

nose had healed during the fight, but the blood was still spread across my lower face like warpaint. “That was hot,” she gave me a smile that said we could have some fun later.

“Xamira, you’re shift begins in ten minutes. Get going.” Peter was there, standing over us, and giving her a warning look. We both knew what would happen if my penis found its way between Xamira’s legs.

She quickly left, and then it was just the two of us. He loomed over me; primal power, muscles, and a fat cock that even his loose pants couldn’t disguise.

“Fucking shifters.”

After a few seconds, he extended a hand and pulled me to my feet.

“Sorry,” it hurt nearly as much as the ache in my bones to apologize to the man. Afterall, he was the one who broke my nose and started this.

“Don’t apologize,” he replied. “You break it, you buy it. I’ll get with the contractor and have him send you the bill.”

Just when I was starting to tolerate him, he went and said something like that. I took a good look around at the ruined mats, the battered floor, the large chunks of ceiling missing, and the mangled heaps of metal that had been workout equipment.

“So much for the hundred grand I made last night,” I groaned.

“You still need more training,” Peter continued his impressive ability to continue to piss me off. “Not as much as I thought, but still some. You need to learn to control your strength. Imagine if Lilith was ambushed on a street full of people. If you fought like you did today, there would be dozens of dead humans. You don’t want that on your conscience, and the cabal doesn’t want the attention.”

“Damn it,” I hated when he was right.

“We’ll build on what Xamira taught you, and teach you our style of combat. You’ll have many teachers,” the smile he gave me said that if we did fisticuffs every day, I’d be penniless in a week. “Speaking of which. . .” the elevator dinged and a creature stepped out.

“Looks like I missed all the fun,” it said in Lark’s voice.

For whatever reason, the Fae had decided to shed his glamour. He wasn’t overly tall, only about six feet from his two hooves to the top of his head. His bottom half was goat legs covered in brown fur. Despite the drawings of satyrs with a loin cloth, or armor, Lark was naked, and his furry cock swung back and forth as he stomped towards us. He had to duck under a pull-up rack that had been tossed in his path by the fight. Despite the metal contraption being closer to eight feet tall, the satyr had to duck so his horns didn’t get caught in the metal.

They were a couple feet tall, big, black, curled, and reminded me of when Hellboy went full devil; not the new one with the guy from Stranger Things, but the OG Hellboy with Ron Pearlman. They curled around and up to make a quasi-crown on his head. I could almost see the little flaming crown from the movie resting between them. Lark’s face was humanoid, but blockier, with a neatly trimmed beard the same color as the rest of his fur. He seemed much more solid in his true form than in his glamour. I was pretty confident he’d been the god Pan at one point, but as I studied him closer, I could see the outline of other deities in his features. If Morgan’s comments were to be believed, and he had a naughty streak, I could see him being the inspiration for Baphomet. He looked a lot like that statue in the Sabrina Netflix show.

“Yes, you missed quite an evaluation,” Peter gave a heavy sigh. “It looks like our time is up,” he turned back to me. “I’ll get you a training schedule that works for everyone.” With a nod, that had a surprising amount of respect in it, he strode past Lark to the elevator.

It dinged, but before he entered, he turned back to the Fae. “Be on your best behavior.”

“I cross my heart and hope to die,” the Fae smiled, showing serrated teeth that would be right at home on some predator gnawing on the bone of some helpless creature; trying to get to the juicy marrow at the center of the Tootsie Pop.

It made me shiver, and I suddenly missed Peter’s presence. Lark noticed.

“It’s my form,” he explained. “Humans have been conditioned to be wary of me for millennia. Us ancient ones all have one tale or another told about us. Mine are particularly interesting and have stood the test of time.”

“Yes, Lark, please tell us your riveting tale.”

Both of us jumped when Venus spoke from her perch on a piece of shattered gym equipment. Neither of us had heard the elevator ding or any other announcement of arrival. She was just suddenly . . . there. She gave me a wink before turning her attention back to Lark. She didn’t look anything like the woman last night who’d worn mom jeans and fed me my favorite meal.

“It is probably best that we start training,” Lark looked a little uncomfortable to be in his true form around Venus.

“No,” she hopped down from the equipment as nimble as a cat, “I believe Cameron has the right to know who he’s learning from.”

Lark gave her a hard glare, but then relented. “Fine,” he sighed and flourished his hands dramatically. “It was all blown out of proportion. Some human heard a loud-mouthed Fae talking, they were both drunk, and the facts of the case got muddled in the retelling that is common in early recorded history,” he jabbered.

“Get on with it,” Venus casually picked up a hyperdense plate, that weighed five hundred pounds, and tossed it from hand to hand like it was