Crow Magic

by Mary Quast

  “Hmm….” The sexy feminine purr about killed him. “Spirit of the Crow, I want to fly. Can you help me fly?”

  “Oh, my fiery angel, I can do more than that.”

  Her words unchained all the pent up passion. His crow quivered with anticipation. Sparks of electricity danced in the air and landed on them as their spirits prepared to fuse together.

  It’s time.

  Chapter Six

  She slid off his waist and he watched her with savage eyes. She recognized her spirit animal flutter, begging to fly. When he reached for his pants and removed a condom from his wallet, she didn’t suffer embarrassment or the necessity to cover herself. For the first time in her life, she experienced freedom. Leaning back, she enjoyed the cool air dancing on her skin and the heat from his hungry stare.

  “Once timid, now a fiery angel who wants to fly.” His fathomless eyes drew her into a magical world of the senses. He could only be described as beautiful. He crawled toward her. “I’m so enchanted by your sensuality; I will take you to heights only the crow knows.”

  Smooth tanned skin rippled as his rigid muscles flexed. His eyes radiated intensity, gold flecks mingling in the black irises. Raven hair hung over his broad shoulders as he moved. He gazed at her with desire until the reality of her situation sank in. She’d just experienced the appetizer and the time had come for the main course. Bring it on!

  Tilting her head, she smiled and flicked her tongue over her lips. With a low primitive sound, he eased her back onto the blanket and parted her thighs. Raising her hands over her head, his fingers traced her arms. His musky scent filled her nostrils while he licked her nipples. Something raw and ragged tore through her. Lust? His hair splayed across her belly, and his large tanned hand gently caressing her pale breast created an erotic scene. He took a nipple into his warm mouth, and she cried out in pleasure. Arching her back, she begged for more.

  Drawing his tongue from between her breasts and over her collar bone, he paused to nip her neck and jaw line. When he held his lips over hers and didn’t kiss her, she whimpered in distress. She fisted her hands in his hair and tugged him closer, needing his mouth on hers. With a rough growl he kissed her, firm and deep. Giving in to her craving for more, she strained toward him. Tecumseh palmed her stomach then down to cup her sex and finger her clitoris, then inserted two fingers, stretching her, spreading her wetness.

  Throbbing with pleasure, she raked her nails across his shoulders and down his back then grabbed his ass and dug into the firm flesh. With a lift of her hips, she matched the rhythm of the plunge and retreat of his fingers.

  “You are so wet,” he whispered, licking her neck.

  Reaching around him, she closed her hand around his cock and stroked, enjoying the velvet softness of the steel-hard shaft. She squirmed under him, ready and wanting him inside. He moaned his approval.

  “Now, Tecumseh, please.” She panted.

  He pushed her legs farther apart and rubbed the head of his cock over her sex. With confidence, she moved waited for his thrust.

  He rose over her, his eyes filled with lust and promise.

  She swallowed. This is it!

  Holding his erection, he paused at her entrance, his stare boring into hers. He began to slide into her and the small discomfort gave way to primal need. Her body gave in and stretched as he filled her. Combining gentle pressure with slow strokes, he wedged deep within her. Their bodies locked together in perfection and a moan tore from her lips.

  Pure bliss.

  Through the beauty of the moment, she destroyed her nightmares. With every pleasurable stroke, every heated kiss, every smooth touch, her anxiety and issues disappeared. The empowered woman within emerged, dispelling the timid one forever.

  Cradling him between her legs, she writhed but he maintained a slow pace, moving his hips with shallow strokes. He kissed her, his tongue dancing in the same tempo. She reveled in his attention by roaming her hands along his back, admiring his lean waist and hips and his quivering muscles under her nails.

  He followed the curve of her neck with his tongue, sending chills through her. She clung to his shoulders, grinding and thrusting. Waves of energy pounded across every inch of her. Cool mountain air crackled.

  A groan brought her back to reality. He no longer moved inside her but had pulled out. She ached for him.

  “Stand up; it’s time for your flying lesson.” Tecumseh took her hand as he stood.

  Circling his arms around her, he pulled her back tight along his chest. His cock bobbed next to her hip. He skimmed his fingers along her spine, across her butt. Her back arched and he covered her hips and down to her swollen folds where he entered her with his fingers. Trembling from the onslaught of sensations as he continued to stroke her sensitive clit and an orgasm hovered, she writhed. A raspy groan sounded in her ear and he removed the source of pleasure. Before she cried her frustration, he drove into her.

  “Relax and lean into me.” His rhythmic voice lulled her into complete trust. “Close your eyes. It is time to not see but to feel.”

  A gust of wind extinguished the candles but didn’t chill her skin. The flame of desire remained and intensified. Holding her in a tight embrace, he cocooned her with trust and passion. Leaning into him, she relished the fullness of him pumping into her. She raised her arms behind her, tangling her fingers in his hair.

  His hot breath and the occasional nip on her neck provoked her spirit, the animal within crying for release. With a firm grip, Tecumseh guided her hips to receive his thrusts. The faster he pumped, the deeper he went. She licked her lips and turned her head and met with his ferocious kiss. She moaned and arched into him more, his rhythm pushing her to a dizzying height. She heard the call of a crow. Small crow wings flapped, cooling her burning skin, though there were no birds, only extremely large black feathers, taking on an animated life of their own, the smaller elongating into large plumes as long as her arms. The living plumes caressed her, slipping around her breasts and between her legs where she and Tecumseh were joined.

  A pair of large wings angled and began to beat. She lifted from the blanket and rose off the ground with only air under her feet. Their legs tangled, merging them into one.

  A gentle breeze skimmed across them, giving way to an ethereal mist. He rocked inside her, and she wanted to savor every moment before she died from the thrill.

  With a growl, he bit her ear lobe and slammed into her, driving into her body and her soul. Wind ushered them upward. The pace became faster and she lost herself to the pleasure. She screamed and gave into the uncontrollable spasms. Wrapping his arms around her, Tecumseh let out a pent-up cry of pleasure as he shattered inside her.

  An electrical charge shot out from their joining and into the night while simultaneous satisfaction launched them toward the stars. The beat of wings echoed in her mind, feathers cooling her as they flew. Too weak to open her eyes all the way, she caught a glimpse of the moon. It seemed closer and she basked in the light and the warmth of her lover’s strong arms holding her. He remained within her, preserving the spiritual connection. As she soared, she didn’t want the night to end.

  Chapter Seven

  Lucy woke, rolled over and found her bed empty. Sitting up, she became aware of how at ease she happened to be with own her nakedness. She called out to Tecumseh and received no response. Believing they had formed a special connection during the night, disappointment sank in as she looked around the silent room. Rising from the bed, she grabbed her robe and pulled it on. Pausing for a moment, she gazed in the mirror. Her hair hung in messy curls, her face gave off a glow of confidence she’d never seen before. For once in her life she saw her own reflection as pretty.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something on the dresser—the missing silver earring sat next to its mate with a single black feather under both hoops. The images flooding her mind of the crow flying off with the earring, her lover telling her of his animal spirit, and the magical sensations of flying the night b
efore all hinted at one thing. Could her lover be the crow?

  A cawing sound outside drew her attention. Her spirit animal fluttered in her heart. Go to him! Go now!

  Grabbing the earrings and feather, she rushed out the door.

  She hurried through the woods and reached the meadow. Rising from the morning haze, the lone tree stood with its branches full of crows. As she approached, the flock shook off the dew and took flight. One remained on its perch, feathers askew, back hunched, beak pointing down. The poor thing gave the impression of being in pain. As she moved cautiously under the tree, the dark head lifted.

  It cocked its head. Her skin tingled from the sharp gaze. Behind those onyx eyes, a soul cried out and held her spellbound. Recognition fluttered in her chest. Her spirit animal quivered and a tear slipped down her cheek. She might not ever see her lover again, and she may well be crazy thinking the bird was him. Gathering strength from her spirit, she called out to the creature.

  “You did this, didn’t you?” She held out a palm, displaying the earrings and feather. “I know it’s you, Tecumseh.”

  He straightened then leapt into the air to fly away. A burst of wind coiled around her, tugging the robe. A ghostly vapor enveloped them for a moment then vanished. The bird changed into a man. Large black wings guided him as he landed in a crouched position, and his long hair stirred with the air currents weaving magic around him. He rose to his full height and the breeze slowed to a stop. Her heart told her to accept what her eyes saw.

  Tecumseh wore the same black pants and boots as the night before, the silver plates on his belt reflecting an illusion of flames. Two long, thin braids lay against the bronze skin smoothed over his hard, muscled chest. His upper body heaved and the wings began to fold into his back.

  “Wait.” She reached out to him. “Leave them be.”

  He remained motionless under her scrutiny, yet his molten gaze set her senses humming. The shadows on the angles of his face emphasized his warrior heritage, and she hungered to touch him. Black feathers glistened in the sunlight. She stepped closer and took the braids into her palm, fingering the tiny silver beads and soft down braided into the length of the plaits. Releasing them, she traced the outline of the crow pendant hanging low on his chest. His muscles tensed, and he slanted his head, his breath caressing her wrist.

  “Last night I saw the wings tattooed on your back, but these are truly real.” She ran her fingertips over the arch of a wing.

  He closed his eyes and a ragged moan tore from his throat.

  “Does it hurt you when I touch them?”

  “No,” he rasped. “Quite the contrary.” Opening his eyes again, he allowed her to touch the longer, blue-black feathers.

  “They are so beautiful.” She stroked the silk. “So perfect.”

  A force surged through her fingers while the air buzzed with sensual arousal. He reached out and pulled her into his arms and fondled her hair. Resting her head on his chest, she took pleasure from the simple act.

  “I took the earring from you as a symbol of giving everything up from the past. When you completed your transformation, I gave you back the piece of your past you should treasure.” His deep voice dropped. “Is that why you came to me? You wanted to find out why I took and then returned the earring?”

  “No.” She draped her arms around his neck. “Tecumseh, I….”

  “Wait. I have to be honest with you regarding my name. Tecumseh is my given name, but to most I am known as Seth Crowe.”

  “What should I call you?”

  “Whatever your spirit tells you to call me.” A devilish smile lit up his face. “Call upon me in whatever way you wish. I am yours.”

  Before she could respond, he covered her mouth with possessiveness. She opened to accept his commanding tongue. It soon changed to a tender melding, a gentle exploration. With a nip to her jaw he buried his face in her hair. Lowering her arms, she tucked them under his wings and caressed the powerfully built contours of his back. His muscles knotted beneath her hands.

  “Tell me, my fiery angel.” He nuzzled the curve of her neck. “Why did you come to me?”

  “I want more.” She bit her lower lip.

  He snapped his head up, his eyes narrowing then his solemn expression changed. The firm line of his luscious mouth curved into a sexy grin.

  “On no account has this happened to me before. I’ve never flown as I did last night. I’ve come to realize I can only fly with you.” He hugged her close. “Your spirit calls to mine. To my crow, you are the most precious treasure. You shine in our darkness.”

  “My spirit calls to you, too. I’m not ready to end my night with you.”

  “I also am not ready to end our night.” Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he peered into her soul. “If you are willing, I would be blessed to have a lifetime of nights with you.”

  “I am more than willing.” Lucy smiled and wiggled her hips on the bulge in his pants.

  A faint purring sound, that of a crow when happy, came from his throat. He lowered his head and her lips parted to meet his. His ebony wings enveloped her. Untying her robe, he discarded it then caressed her arms and scraped his teeth across her bare shoulders. He cupped her breasts and teased a nipple with his thumb.

  She ached to have his mouth and hands all over her. Sparks ignited her nerves. Her spirit animal and the passion buried deep within her bones burst forth and flowed through her veins. A rush of dizziness overwhelmed her, forcing her to hold onto his biceps for balance.

  Sensing her lightheadedness, he pulled her closer, his erect cock pressing her belly. She began tugging at his belt.

  “Tecumseh?”

  “Yes, my Spirit Mate.” He continued worshiping her with his mouth.

  “I want to fly.”

  “Your desire is my will.”

  His wings thrust opened with a gust of air. The rest of his clothing vanished. The morning sun glistened off his magnificent muscled form. Grabbing her butt, he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His powerful wings pumped the air, lifting them off the ground. He plunged into her wetness and withdrew with the tempo of his flight. His back arched, and she bowed to take him deeper. He drove into her faster and harder until a fire raged in her heart. They soared and moved as one, the higher they flew the cooler the air became.

  The magical power of the mountains and the life force of the woods touched her soul. The fusing of their animal spirits and his fervor pushed her over the edge and into rapture. In the spiral of ecstasy, he shouted her name accompanied by a final thrust into the core of her being.

  His soothing voice broke through her delirium. “So beautiful, so perfect, so mine.”

  ***

  So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that the respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, and beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and bow to none. When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and nothing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision. When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.

  Chief Tecumseh, Shawnee 1811

  A Sourcebook for Earth’s Community of Religions (1995) by Joel Diederik Beversluis

  Author’s Note

  Recently I was asked how I attained my interest and knowledge of Native American legend and lore. My response became a story.

 
After the Civil War, my great-great grandfather, Gardner Avery, left his New York regiment to settle with his wife, Helen Greenleaf Kern, in a rural area near Grand Rapids, Michigan, named Jamestown. He kept a diary, which remains in the family, of his daily activities and expenses. On the land he purchased to farm, a tribe of Native Americans resided. The couple let the Potawatomi continue to live and hunt on the land.

  Over time they developed close friendships with many of the tribal folk. My great-great-grandmother became very close to the medicine woman of the tribe who taught her the use of herbs in food and healing. The Avery’s interest in the art of the tribe eventually led to them learning how to make the Native American pottery. Through stories shared around meals, they learned the spirituality of the Native Americans.

  At the time, Grand Rapids was one of the first large scale trading posts used by the Ottawa, Potawatomi and the Chippewa. My ancestors learned valuable information from their relationships with these tribes, which lead them to have a successful farm and healthy family.

  Despite the Avery’s wishes, the government forced the tribe off the land and into a reservation. According to family legend, Helen and her dearest friend spent the last days together. After hugs and many tears, she stood in a field and watched the tribe travel until they were out of sight.

  The information, stories, and traditions my ancestors learned have been passed down through the generations. I grew up listening to the stories my grandmother told of visiting the farm and her grandparents. She also shared aspects of the Native American spirituality and showed us how similar it is to Christianity.

  In the 1950s, my grandparents purchased property and build a cottage on Coldwater Lake, not far from Mt. Pleasant, Michigan. We spent many summers at the cottage, where we collected arrowheads we found in the local sand pits. A Chippewa family owned a cottage near ours and “Indian Dave” would share their stories, dances, and traditions with us while we sat around a bonfire.