Scythe & Sparrow: Chapter 16

Rose

“I need all the details,” Sloane says, her eyes fixed to Lark above the rim of her coffee cup. Lark tries to dart her crystalline blue gaze away to the patrons that pack the busy café, drumming her short fingernails on the glossy black table. “So? What happened with you and Lachlan?”

Lark shakes her head emphatically, her cascade of blond waves falling across her shoulder. She and I have both opted for something stronger than coffee, and Lark takes a long sip of her mimosa as though that will get her out of answering. I might not know Sloane that well, but I already get the vibe that she’s not the type to just let a nonanswer slide. Lark finally balks and does her best to put on a convincing facade. “Nothing.”

I try to hide my grin behind my Bloody Mary, but Lark can see the amusement in my eyes when she looks to me for backup. “You sure?” I say, and I can sense Sloane’s delight next to me.

“Mmhmm.”

“You were out with him on the balcony for a while,” Sloane chips in.

Lark squares her shoulders and raises her chin. “A girl can get some fresh air without some interrogation.”

“He’s pretty hot though,” I say. “Reminds me of someone, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“He doesn’t look like anyone. Except an asshat. A hot asshat, but still an asshat.”

“He makes me think of someone too,” Sloane says, tapping her lip thoughtfully as she turns her gaze to the ceiling. “Oh! I know. It’s Kea—”

“Don’t you dare, Sloane Sutherland. Don’t. You. Dare. Keanu Reeves is a god among men and you will not ruin him for me by comparing him to Lachlan Fucking Kane.” Lark shoots Sloane a menacing look before the server interjects to take her now-empty glass. She immediately asks for a fresh one. When he’s gone, Lark turns her attention back to us. Or, more specifically, to me. “Besides, we shouldn’t be dissecting my nonexistent love life. We should be asking about you and the good doctor Kane.”

My cheeks flame and I take a long sip of my drink. The girls wait me out, of course. And I kind of love them for it. It’s been so long since I’ve had female friends my age. In fact, I find it hard to remember a time when I did. So even though I’m a little embarrassed about this question, it’s nice to be asked. I might have met Lark only a few days ago and I hardly know either of them, but they’ve welcomed me like I was always meant to be here. And I don’t think I’ll be ready to leave. Not Boston.

And definitely not Nebraska.

I glance down at my leg. The cast will be coming off when we get back to Hartford. And then it’ll be time to hit the road. Rejoin Silveria. Travel from town to town. Go back to what I know. What’s comfortable.

But maybe it’s not so comfortable anymore. Maybe it feels a little tight. For all its benefits, especially for someone like me, the freedom of that nomadic life is sometimes just an illusion.

Maybe things would be different if I stayed in Nebraska for a little while …

I clear my throat, trying to dislodge that idea from making its way into my voice. “I don’t know,” I finally say with a shrug. “It’s fun, whatever it is. And we’re friends. But anything else is not really … real.”

“Do you want it to be?” Lark asks, her clear blue eyes full of sympathy as she studies me, their teasing glimmer now gone. “Kind of seems like you might.”

“I don’t know if it’s that easy. My cast is coming off in a couple of days. Staying at Fionn’s was always meant to be temporary. I’m supposed to be getting back on the road. And even if I was in a good place to start a relationship, Doc doesn’t seem like he is.”

Sloane hums a long and thoughtful note. “I can’t say I really know him, but he seems like a bit of a tricky one. I think maybe he is ready.” She turns to me, giving me a faint smile. “But he might not realize it until you’re gone.”

A deep sigh fills and leaves my lungs. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Well, I for one hope it works out whatever way you want it to,” Lark says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. When she pulls her palm away, she leaves a gold sticker behind. “And you’re not getting away from us, no matter which way it goes.”

“Yeah. You’re definitely not. You’ve been stickered. You’re part of the sticker-bitch crew now. Count yourself lucky she didn’t put them on your tits.”

I look down. “She’d have to find them first.”

Lark snorts. “Shut up. You’ve got great tits. All perky and shit. Great nips. Advantage of an optional bra and they don’t smack you around. Small is sexy.”

“Lark is like a tit sommelier. Trust her judgment,” Sloane says, then drains her cup and checks her watch. “I have to run to meet Rowan at the restaurant, but I’ll see you girls tomorrow? I’d love to catch up one last time before you both take off.”

“For sure.” Sloane rises, placing cash on the table before she gives each of us a hug. We stick around for another drink, and then we both head our separate ways with plans to meet up the next morning before we each fly out. It’s nearly six thirty when I get back to our room in the Langham, but Fionn isn’t there. He’s probably still visiting with Lachlan. I’m pulling my phone from my pocket when it buzzes in my hand with an incoming text. Lark’s name flashes on the screen.

I’m starting to type another reply, but Fionn calls before I have a chance to send it.

“Your brother broke up with that smokeshow Sloane—”

“Something is wrong, Rose,” he says, and though he tries to keep his voice calm, I can still hear panic swimming through its depths. “I was on my way back to the hotel when Lachlan called me. Rowan is hurt.”

“Did Sloane …? Is he all right?”

“He’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. I’ll explain later. But it’s going to take me a while. I’ll be late getting in.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Let me know if I can help. Good luck.”

With a final worried goodbye, Fionn hangs up. I blow out a long breath through my bangs. I keep in touch with Lark for updates, though they’re minimal. My suitcase was returned a few days ago, so I busy myself with my tarot deck now. I do a reading for Sloane and Rowan, whose pasts look troubled but whose future is bright with love. I shower and play with my hair, holding the length up to see what it would look like cut to a bob. I order room service. Watch some TV. Spend some time catching up on texts from José and Baz and Zofia, and all the others from the circus who’ve been checking in on me this whole time, but whom I’ve been a bit slower to respond to lately for reasons I don’t feel ready to fully explore. Spend time with myself, something that I guess I rarely do. I let my mind wander. To imagine the different futures that might lie ahead. Maybe I’ll rejoin Silveria and everything will go back to the way it was.

But what if I don’t? What if I stayed in Nebraska? Would Fionn even want that? Or maybe I could come here to Boston, start over fresh. Try on another life. See if it fits.

I’m lying in bed, too worried about Fionn and the others, too caught up in these kaleidoscopic futures, when Fionn comes into the dim room.

“Hey,” I say, sitting up a little to see him. He sits down on the edge of the bed and gives me a smile, but it’s weary. Whatever he’s had to do, it’s spent his energy and left little behind. “Are you all right?”

A little crease flickers between his brows as Fionn’s eyes fuse to mine. “Me?”

I blink at him, not sure how my words could have been misinterpreted. “Yeah. You.”

“I’m okay. I’m fine, actually,” he says, though the second confirmation sounds more like a mask than the truth. “Rowan’s arm and hand were injured. Managed to get him patched up.”

“His Tower fell,” I say with a sage nod. Fionn gives me a confused look, and I gesture toward my tarot deck. “It was part of his reading. His little murder competition with Sloane was bound to catch up with them. But they’ll be fine now.”

“You knew about their game?”

I shrug, sitting up to rest my back against the padded headboard. “Gransie had some strong feelings that day they came to your house. And I guess I filled in the blanks. The boot print on Sloane’s face was a bit of a clue. So was the whole ‘blah blah we killed the fucker’ and arguing about the winner stuff.”

“Yeah,” he says as he kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed to sit beside me. “Rowan’s not the best at keeping that shit to himself.”

“Maybe he should fly a little under the radar for a while.”

Fionn fiddles with the edge of the bedding, tracing a finger across the white stitches. “Probably. I think he’s always had it in the back of his head that he’s got Lachlan to clean up after him when shit really hits the fan. But, tonight aside, it seems like he’s a bit more under control since Sloane came on the scene.”

“And he’s got you,” I say, and Fionn turns to look at me. “I guess it makes sense now.”

“What does?”

“Why you never embraced the darkness inside you,” I reply, giving him a faint smile. “They expected you to rise above it. To be the man they couldn’t be.”

The dim light. The city sounds. The way he watches me. The way I must be watching him back. Fionn’s gaze drops to my lips and lingers there. My breath catches. I could lean in. Maybe I do. His eyes don’t leave my lips as he drifts just a little bit closer. Time seems to stretch around us.

I don’t want this moment to shatter. I know its sharp edges will lodge in my heart if it does. So I don’t lean any closer. And maybe he’s scared of breaking, just like I am. Because neither does he.

But a current still charges the air between us. An ache deep in my core is desperate for his touch.

I slide my palm across the duvet and place my hand on Fionn’s. He’s still watching my lips as I curl my fingers around his hand. And then I pull it toward me. I let it slide over my bare thigh, moving slowly, then up my hip, skirting my waist, not stopping until we reach my breast. I know he’ll be able to feel the hammering beat of my heart.

“You don’t have to try so hard to be somebody else,” I say, and Fionn meets my eyes. “I like the dark too.”

I give him a slow smile that turns wicked, letting go of his hand to reach for his belt, undoing the buckle and zipper. I can feel him watching every motion as I pull his pants and briefs down to free his erection, taking his length in my tight fist. “I love a bit of something deliciously sinful,” I whisper.

And then I spit on his cock. He hisses with desire as I stroke the saliva once down his length and then I lean down, enveloping the crown in my mouth. Fionn moans as I run my tongue around the head and then take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. “Fuck, Rose. That mouth of yours is going to be the death of me.”

I work the base of his erection with my hand as I lavish the head with attention, and then I’m sliding him deeper over the flat of my tongue, deeper and deeper until I swallow down the urge to gag. I start a rhythm. Slow at first. Long strokes. As far as I can take him. Sucking as hard as I can when I pull back. Fionn threads his hands into my hair and pulls it back from my face to get a better view. I look up, my eyes watering, saliva cool on my lips and smeared on my cheeks.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says, and I hum around his cock. “Jesus fucking Christ, Rose. Do it again.” I hum louder this time, and then I rake my fingernails over his balls. “God, yes. Yes, Rose. Don’t stop.”

There’s no way I’m stopping. I quicken my pace, humming moans into his thick cock, cupping his balls. His muscles tense. He calls out my name and I know it’s coming. I thrust my head down on his erection, taking him as deep as I can as his cum shoots to the back of my throat. I swallow him down. Every pulse. I work his cock until he’s shuddering, breathless and hot, his skin slick when I run my fingers beneath his shirt to trace the lines of his abs. When I’m sure he’s fully spent, I start to pull away. But I keep my eyes on his. I take my time. I open my mouth wider and glide my tongue along the underside of his length. He’s riveted to the motion as I lick him clean in a long, languorous stroke.

I’m about to back away when Fionn prowls over me in a flash of motion. One moment I was sitting, watching him with a devious smile, and the next I’m flat on my back, looking into his ravenous eyes. “You think you’re going somewhere?” he asks, caging me in. I fake innocence, raising my brows as I shrug. “You think you’re going to swallow my cock and I’m going to let you get away unsatisfied?”

“I am satisfied,” I say, running my tongue across my swollen bottom lip. His eyes track the motion. I see the hunter in him, looking out through blown pupils, one that’s determined to devour its prey.

“Not satisfied enough,” he says, shifting his weight onto one arm as he trails a finger between my breasts, slowly dragging his touch down the center of my body. “I’m going to bet that your perfect pussy is fucking soaked, begging to be fucked.” Suddenly, his touch is moving in the other direction, back toward my chest. I let out an immediate whimper and he gives me a rakish grin in reply. “I thought so. Fucking desperate to be lavished with attention, isn’t that right?”

I let out another whimper as his finger circles my nipple through my satin tank top. I nod.

“What was that?” Fionn asks, tilting his head as though trying to hear me better. “I didn’t quite make that out, Rose.”

“Yes,” I breathe, and his finger resumes its path toward my center. “I need it.”

I need you.

Though I don’t say the words out loud, he can sense them. He grins, slowly making his way down my body, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When he gets to my hips, he pulls my sleep shorts off, tossing them to the floor before he lifts the thigh of my injured leg to lay it over his shoulder. He’s so delicate with my broken parts, even when he’s about to destroy the rest of me. It sets my blood aflame. I’ve never wanted anyone like I do Fionn Kane. And as he lowers his mouth to my pussy and presses my chest down with his wide palm as though he can capture every heaving breath, I know that will never change.

Fionn slides his tongue from my entrance to my clit, circling the bundle of nerves. He moans into my flesh, his eyes drifting closed. If he said my pussy was the best meal he ever had, I would believe him. He presses harder, rolls his tongue over me, hums his satisfaction right into me. And then he glides his tongue back down to my entrance to thrust it inside, pulsing it in my cunt. When he licks his way back to the top of my folds, he pushes a finger into my pussy, followed by a second, curling them with every stroke. The pressure doesn’t let up on my clit.

“More,” I beg, my head tilting back as he works me closer to a blinding orgasm. “Make me come on your beautiful fucking face. I want to see it smeared all over your skin.”

When I look down the length of my body, it’s pure predator staring back at me. Fionn’s eyes darken. He growls against my pussy, a shock of pleasure. And then he catapults me into oblivion.

Fionn raises on his knees. He takes me with him, never breaking his mouth away. My legs are braced over his shoulders as he raises my ass off the bed. The sounds he makes are wild, animalistic. He fucking devours me.

I don’t just moan. I don’t just come. I scream his name and split apart.

My fists curl around damp sheets. Every breath I take is desperate, as though there’s not enough oxygen in the room. The scent of sex and his citrus and sage cologne are heavy in the air. I’m sure I lose hearing, every sound dampened, even my own unraveling moans. Fionn doesn’t let up, still chasing every last moment of my orgasm until I tap him to stop. The instant I do, he comes back to himself and lets go, as though he was in that other dimension with me. One where no other world existed beyond this moment together.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathless. His lips and chin and cheeks glisten with my arousal. I feel the first burn from his stubble on my inner thighs, a delicious pain that I savor.

“I’m fucking fantastic.” When I smile, relief and maybe a bit of pride find their way into his expression. I’m a sweaty, boneless mess when Fionn lowers my hips to the bed and backs off the mattress to retrieve my sleep shorts from the floor. He puts them on for me, gently sliding them up my legs, lifting my hips to center them. And when he’s done, he brings me things I can’t easily reach. Water. My robe. The crutches that I left just out of reach from this side of the bed. And when I’m eventually ready to go to the bathroom, he has the bed ready when I get back, the covers smoothed and turned down.

When we’re finally both settled in bed, we don’t stick to our sides. Just like we didn’t last night. Same with the night before. We meet in the middle. I lay my head on Fionn’s chest. He wraps an arm across my back.

“Part of me doesn’t want to go home,” I confess into the dark.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Me too.”

But as a close my eyes, I realize, I’m not sure which home I mean anymore.

I’m not sure where I belong.