by Charlie Hart
She nods as if knowing what she’d pull. She sets it on the table, the Ace of Arrows.
“What does it mean?” he asks.
Mom explains: “This suit represents the rational mind and its ability to discriminate. Swords cut through things in order to pierce illusion, to differentiate between fantasy and reality.”
“Which means?” he asks.
“It means my daughter would be wise to listen to you. You know what you’re here for, and you’ll accomplish what you’ve set out to do.”
Arrow smirks. “I don’t think this card is for me.”
Mom cocks her head to the side, considering. Then blinks, the tears springing back to life. Then she nods, twisting the card and turning it to face me.
“You’re right, Arrow,” she says with conviction. “It’s Lark who can differentiate between fantasy and reality. Lark will discover what she is and who she is, when the time is right. She would be wise to listen to her own heart.”
I pull her into my arms. I don’t understand her in so many ways, but I know, deep down, that she’s always had the best intentions.
I’ve watched her my entire life, pulling up her bootstraps and making our lives whole and beautiful. She made a business out of her own two hands. She also made every effort to help me learn how to move my body, across the stage or around a room.
Any elegance or grace I possess it is because I had her as my guide. Arrow and the other men may have had Mother Earth, but I had her.
I am proud to be hers. Even if she infuriates me. Even if she has lied to me.
She’s not a goddess from some mythological realm. She is here, present, and real. She is my mother even if my bones are not her bones, even if my blood is not her blood.
19
Arrow
Her room is like a cloud. Pale blue walls and white pillows and blankets. A worn wood floor covered in a soft creamy shag rug, and a lamp on a bedside table that casts the warmest glow across the room.
“That was kind of … intimate,” I tell her. “I feel honored to have witnessed that moment.”
“Thanks for encouraging me to forgive her. We’d been at a standstill for so long … it’s like I needed someone else here to help break the ice.”
“You did good, Lark,” I tell her, drawing her into my arms. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, her tongue rolling over her lips, excruciatingly slow. “The last few months have been incredible. The best and worst of my life. I’m so glad I wasn’t alone for any of it.”
“You never have to be alone again. Lark,” I tell her. “We’re yours as long as you’ll have us.”
She steps away and pulls the curtains closed. I inhale, wondering what the guys will think. I know they are out there, watching. Waiting.
“I want you to...” She runs a hand over her breast, her fingers on the buttons of her blouse.
“What?” I ask, breathless.
“I don’t want to go out dancing tonight. We dance every damn day. And I don’t want to gamble, I just want to be with you. All of you. And right now, I want you to get me ready for the rest of them.”
My cock grows hard in my jeans. God, it’s all I want. To touch her, to run my hand over her bare body. To explore every single inch of her.
“Please,” she asks again.
This time I can’t hold back. I pull her to me, her body melting against my own. Her skin is so soft as our lips meet. This time though, we’re alone. And the kiss is different. Deeper. Passionate. And I feel my cock pressed against her belly and I wonder what it makes her think. If it scares her, knowing how big I am and how small she is.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I groan in her ear.
“Then go slowly,” she whispers, her head falling back, exposing her neck. I plant kisses down the length of it, then pull back her blouse, past her shoulders, unclasping her bra and cupping her breasts. They are small. Like those of a dancer, and I run my thumbs over her hard nipples as she whimpers in delight.
Lifting her from the floor, I carry her to the bed and lie her upon it. Then I tug off my own shirt and pants. I keep my boxers on and kneel on the bed, easing off her jeans.
I clench my jaw as I take in the tiny lace panties she wears. “Please,” she asks again.
Nodding, I move my fingertips under her waistband, gently moving them past her hips, her thighs, her ankles. Her pussy is beautiful, a small strip of dark hair leading to her lips.
I move my hand between her thighs, easing them apart, wanting to touch her, feel her heat.
My fingers press against her and her back arches. Her body is so piqued and ready, so full of want, that as I move my thumb over her swollen clit she moves a hand to my wrist, stopping me.
“You’re going to make me scream,” she says, her eyes suddenly wide.
I smile. “Then bite your fist, Lark.”
She presses her knuckles to her mouth and I move my finger faster, then faster still. Her clit is hard and her pussy slick. I slip a second finger in, flicking inside of her with the slightest amount of pressure.
But even that is too much.
She tries to hold back her moan and presses a throw pillow to her face. I still my hand, not wanting to make her scream in pleasure – not with her mom downstairs – but also wanting to make her come.
She steadies herself, lowers the pillow, our eyes are locked. Damn, her tits are so fucking cute. Perky and tight and the moment I begin to move my hand again, she opens her mouth, letting out a scream, and I realize it’s impossible to take her here, like this.
Her back arches, her body writhes, and her pussy is so primed.
“I don’t know how to be quieter,” she moans, closing her eyes and trying to steady herself.
“I’ll go,” I tell her, my cock aching at the thought of leaving without a release.
She smiles, her legs dropping open, my hand resting on her swollen cunt.
“Can I come with?”
I lift my eyebrow. “Is that an innuendo?”
She grins. “No, Arrow. It was a double entendre.”
20
Lark
I pull the tote bag I’ve just packed over my shoulder and take Arrow’s hand in my own. By the time we arrive at the Spades Royale, Arrow and I are ready to get to business.
In the elevator, Arrow pulls me against himself, and I daringly run my hand over his cock. I swear I would have wrapped myself around him and let him take me here and now, had the elevator doors not slid open just then, allowing a group of drunk bachelorettes to slip in.
Once we get to his suite, though, I refuse to let anything get in our way.
We push open the door and the rest of the men are all there, waiting.
As if they know.
As if their bodies are as ready as ours.
Without a word, we move to the bedroom, and I ask Vaughn to help me out of my clothes. He practically groans in pleasure but takes the job seriously.
“You’re sure about this?” North asks me.
My eyes meet Arrow’s. He knows how badly I want this.
“No more questions, no more reassurances,” I tell them. “Let’s just... give in. And tomorrow we can figure out what Gaia wants with us.”
Vaughn does as he’s told and pulls off my shirt. I didn’t even wear a bra. I had dressed in such a hurry after I realized I was going to wake the entire neighborhood if Arrow flicked my clit one more time.
“Oh, God,” Vaughn moans, running his big hands over my bare breasts. His fingers pluck my nipples and he moves his mouth to one of them, licking and sucking me until shivers run up and down my spine.
Then I feel Brecken behind me, pushing down my jeans, my panties, his hands on my ass. “God,” he groans. “Your ass is so fucking cute.”
I close my eyes, reveling in the attention, relaxing into the moment for what it is: bliss.
Around us, Sawyer, Arrow, and North undress, and my eyes go wide as I see them naked. I’ve seen them shirtless
in rehearsal and have a clear idea of how their bodies look in tight shorts but this is something else entirely.
Their hands pump their long, thick cocks and my pussy clenches as I take it all in. Take in what being with all five of them actually means.
I feel myself grow wet with desire and we move closer to the bed. Lifting my leg to the bed frame, I feel Brecken’s fingers move inside my pussy the way Arrow’s had. My moans deepen, and I don’t hold back. Not here, in the safety of the hotel suite. This casino was made for sex and we won’t let this room down. Not tonight.
Vaughn pulls my hair up at the top of my head, kissing my neck and my ears, then my mouth. And I whimper against him as my senses go into overdrive.
I moan as they move their hands all over me, as Vaughn tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth. Then they move me to the bed and Sawyer finds a place between my thighs, looking down at me.
“God, sparrow, you are so fucking divine.” Then he lowers his face to my pussy, licking me so softly that I begin to squirm, feeling a pressure mounting in my core, knowing whatever he is doing is going to undo me, completely.
“Oh, please,” I moan, my hands reaching out for something to hold onto as Sawyer licks my pussy into submission.
I find what I’m looking for. Arrow’s cock in my left hand and North’s in my right. I move my hands up and down them, not knowing exactly what they want but hoping I can give them what they need.
“Lark,” Arrow moans, and I move my face to him, he kneels on the bed and I open my mouth, taking him in.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans as I begin to suck his length. I run my fingers over North’s balls. They are tight, and I can feel his cock expanding as I touch him.
It makes me feel so beautiful, so wanted, so in control.
I’m taking it for myself; without judgment or shame. Without having all the answers. Heck, I don’t have any of the answers.
But I don’t need answers. Right now, I just need this.
Arrow’s cock goes rigid in my mouth, and when he comes it’s a surprise. One that makes me smile and relax all the more.
His come is milky. So creamy and salty as I swallow him, taking him from my mouth, I look up into his eyes.
They are full of devotion and I feel a surge of pride in that. In the way he looks at me.
Sawyer moves his mouth from my pussy. He gives me the most confident smile I’ve ever seen in my life “Dove,” he says. “How do you want it?”
I pull him to my mouth, wanting to taste myself. I moan against him, taking his cock in my hand, and inching his tip inside of me.
“I want it now,” I say.
I think about flying, about moving across the stage. That is where the exhilaration lies for me.
But now I see it lies here too. In this room, where passion meets excitement. And where exploration meets pleasure.
“All for one, and one for all,” I say as Sawyer fills me with his hard length. He eases himself inside of me slowly, and the other men pause, watching as he fills me up. It’s so sensual, the way their hawk eyes observe everything, taking it all in.
Sawyer’s smile broadens as I begin to arch my back, moaning as he opens me up, filling me with himself.
“Oh god,” I moan, gripping the bodies around me as his shaft fills my body and the pleasure grows into something fierce. “Oh, oh, yes.”
The orgasm begins to wash over me, and it doesn’t stop. Not then. Not for the rest of the night.
The men take me, one after the other until our bodies are spent. Until every inch of me has been enjoyed, licked, sucked and kissed. Until my pussy is slick with come. I run my hand over their taut abs and tight asses. My mouth tasting all of their cocks–come sliding down my throat and coating my skin.
I beg them to come on my bare breasts, against my ass. It’s an orgy, exhilarating and overwhelming and perfect all at the same time. There is no right or wrong way to do this.
Kneeling before Vaughn, I suck his thick, massive cock, as he grabs my hair, inching himself further down my throat until I’m gagging. And even then, I don’t stop. It just makes me want him even more.
I push him on the bed and sit on his face, suck Vaughn’s cock while he sucks my pussy, my creamy release all over his face. Then I’m on all fours, as Brecken takes me from behind. His hands on my hips as he rams into me deliciously.
Against the wall, legs wrapped around North as I move my hips, sitting on his thick cock as I come. Then I’m in the shower, being washed clean by Arrow, our bodies slick and humming with pleasure as we take one another slowly, water beating down against our skin.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Lark,” Arrow whispers, the shower a warm cocoon of pleasure.
“I hope it was worth the wait.”
“Oh, Lark, I would have waited a lifetime for you.” Then his mouth is on mine again, kissing me as he guides himself inside of me, lifting me up, taking me against the wall of the shower.
It’s sex. Yes.
But it’s more than that.
And it means everything, and it means nothing, and it is here, and it is gone.
I don’t know where I come from. Memories are fleeting and the truths we carry can be taken from us in the blink of an eye. I don’t know who brought me into this world, or how I ended up in the arms of five hawk shifters starring in a Vegas show, but I did, and I am, and I don’t need rules to live by.
Because tonight I have given myself permission to be whatever I want.
21
Sawyer
Lark falls asleep in my arms, the six of us in the two king-sized beds in one of the suite’s bedrooms.
Her eyes close, the most beautiful smile on her lips. Serenity.
I run my fingers through her hair, the lights are off and everyone is passed out. The sheets are ruined and we’re all naked–having given Lark everything within us.
Just when I think she’s asleep, she reaches for my hand, gripping it tight, soft cries escaping her lips.
I try to wake her from the nightmare, but it doesn’t work. So instead, I pull her close to my chest, wrap my arms around her in an effort to still her shaking body.
Her fingers dig into my skin, and our bodies are so close, I feel her every breath, and then, it’s as if I can see her every thought.
I’m transported, with her, to a different time and place. We’re outside in the summer but ash is in the air, floating around the scene.
She clings to me as we watch a memory float over us.
“Don’t lie, you reckless child–what did you do?” a woman screams, shaking the shoulders of a little girl with raven black hair.
Lark.
Another women rushes into the yard as dark rain clouds cover the sky, rain pelting down on them, the sky cracking with lightning. “What happened, Tabitha?” Her face is stricken with fear, reaching for Lark, pulling her close.
Tabitha looks to the sky, broken, her heart bare, as rain falls over her face. She closes her eyes, replaying the memory. “Lark screamed for help when I was down in the cellar. I rushed up to the yard and saw Tennyson lifeless in the grass. I ran to her, but she wasn’t breathing, she was dead. Your daughter killed her, Deanna. She killed her own sister.”
“There must be more to the story,” Deanna says, the earth around them soaked with water as the rain falls in buckets, but it does nothing to wash away the pain. “Lark, what happened?”
Lark stands silent, in shock, tears in her big black eyes, her smocked dress sticking to her tiny frame.
Tabitha keeps speaking. “And then as I was holding my dead daughter’s body, someone … something … took her. Tennyson is gone. All at the hands of Lark.” The woman sobs, her daughter gone.
“Don’t speak that way of my girl.” The woman called Deanna lifts Lark from the ground, holding her in her arms. “They’re just children.”
“But my child is gone. She was dead on the ground, and then … something took her.”
“What do you mean, took her?” Deanna asks.
“A gust of wind swept through the sky and swept her away to the clouds.”
“You speak of a magic I’ve never seen, sister.”
Tabitha’s eyes go hard. “I pray to never see your demon child again.”
“Don’t say that,” Deanna sobs. “We’re family. Sisters.”
“Leave New Orleans,” Tabitha hisses. “Never return. I can’t bear to see your evil girl again.”
“What if you have it wrong?” Deanna asks. “What if Tennyson …”
“Don’t you dare speak ill of the dead. I can’t even go to authorities and report her dead, missing–anything. These children were a curse the moment they were delivered.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You are a fool to think anything different. We don’t know where they come from; we just know they have a deep power inside of them. We believed we were here to protect them, but we were wrong.”
Deanna meets her sister’s eyes, heaviness between them as they say goodbye. And then she turns, she leaves, carrying her daughter.
Lark looks over her mother’s shoulder, at her aunt who falls to the floor, lost without her daughter. Lark opens her palm, clutching a ring. Then she folds her hand into a fist and a single tear falls down her cheek.
Lark wakes with a start, her fisted hands pounding on my chest.
“Shh, shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, little bird,” I tell her, holding her close.
She opens her hand, and I think we both believe she’ll find a ring hidden in her palm.
But it’s empty.
And all Lark can manage to do is cry.
22
Lark
Yes, I’m familiar with magic. I grew up around my mother’s crystal ball and her tarot readings and the spells she would cast around the house, claiming they were for protection.
I always chalked it up to her mystic eccentricities. Her witchiness.
