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Seren leaned in, bringing their lips together and set her hands on Lark’s waist, slowly sliding them under the loose soft shirt, the kind of soft that only occurred after years and years of careful wear and even more careful washing. Lark trembled harder and then yanked the shirt over her head and off.

Seren smiled and brought their foreheads together again before sliding Lark’s underwear to the side and gripping the restless already moving hips.

“That’s right, baby,” she whispered in the dark as Lark jolted, bare wet skin meeting Seren’s rough jeans.

Seren held her steady, and Lark ground down harder, moving slowly, tentatively. She licked Lark’s lower lip before drawing it into her mouth. The body in her hands stilled, tense, shaking. Seren gripped the slim hips tighter before she let go of Lark’s mouth and pushed her down, setting a slow steady rhythm.

“Just like that, Lark.” She licked up the graceful neck before biting the spot right below the ear, where she knew Lark was sensitive. “Grind down on me, fuck yourself on me.”

Lark whimpered at the profanity, sped up her movements, hips jerking slightly with every thrust, and Seren smiled against her skin.

“Yes, you’re so wet for me, soaking my jeans through. So wet, so needy, so perfect for me.” Seren bit again, and Lark brought a hand to her own mouth, moaning quietly in her palm. Under any other circumstances, Seren would’ve wanted to hear her. She let it go, for now. They’d have plenty of time. They’d have many nights of full privacy to hear each other moan and scream and come. And all she wanted tonight was to give Lark what she needed.

“Can you come like this, Lark? Can you come for me like this, riding my thigh?”

Lark nodded, her eyes hooded, focused, as she pushed herself down harder still, her dripping center leaving streaks on Seren’s thigh. It was perfect, it was everything, and Seren reveled in how firmly Lark gripped her shoulders, how she rode her in complete abandon, head thrown back, lips parted, Seren’s name on them murmured over and over. She brought her face to Lark’s heaving chest and took a nipple in her mouth, biting down once, twice... Before she knew it, Lark was convulsing in her arms, teeth grinding together, hips losing their rhythm and arms winding around Seren’s neck.

“Gosh, the things you do with that mouth, Seren Crowhart. The words you say, and darn it, the biting… It really does it for me, you know?” Lark opened her eyes and smirked down at Seren.

“I mean, I might’ve guessed, but it’s good to have confirmation.” Seren lifted an eyebrow, and Lark’s smirk turned a touch feral.

“My turn!”

Seren fell back on the bed and allowed herself to be taken.

Drowsy and sated, and so in love, Seren watched Lark get out of bed and pull the massive bathrobe on, tying the sash and blowing her a kiss before sauntering out of the room, leaving her to a dreamless sleep.

In fact, her slumber was so peaceful it made the reality she awoke to even more of a true nightmare.

Victoria’s magic slammed into her sleeping consciousness with the force of a runaway train slipping the tracks.

Disoriented, barely conscious, Seren could only grab her head as image after image slashed through her thoughts like a blade across skin. The pain was almost mind-breaking, and yet it was the images themselves that brought her to her knees.

Magnus Rathcross dragging a lifeless Lark through the empty, dark streets of Crow’s Nest, Victoria’s slower, injured steps trying to catch up to him. And blood. So much blood everywhere. On Victoria’s hands. On Lark’s neck, on her arms.

Crawling out of the bedroom, Seren forced herself upright.

“Come, Water. Awaken, Wind. Set, Fire. Call to Earth. Come as one. Coven of the Crow, reach me.”

Seren had always imagined that she’d live her entire life without ever reciting the Coven’s chant. She knew that countless generations of Crowharts had never uttered it out loud. The fear in her chest clawed and bit, her mind still straining for some clarity as she watched Victoria run after Rathcross.

“Coven of the Crow! Come as one. Come to protect. Come to safe keep. Reach me!”

Barefoot, in her boxers and tattered shirt, Seren ran out of Victoria’s house. She didn’t feel the cobblestones. She didn’t feel the spring night chill. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream. Her throat was shut by terror and visions.

Only when a distant gust of Wind slammed into her side, almost upending her as she raced toward the Lagoon, could Seren finally exhale. At least one of her sisters had heard her. Rhiannon might not have been subtle in letting her know she was on her way, but she was dependable.

And then, the ground in front of her smoothed, the stones under her feet leveling to nothing, easing her run, and her skin grew hot, the cold dissipating. Seren felt relief flood her heart. Ceridwen and Deryn were not far behind.

That relief was gone the second she reached the water. Fear was a punch to the solar plexus, all oxygen evaporating.

Nothing had prepared Seren for what awaited her when she finally blew by the last row of homes and felt sand under her feet. The Crow’s Lagoon was illuminated by the full moon, a place she cherished, a place she called home almost as often as Crow House.

A place that currently held her entire life in the palm of its bloody, sandy hand.

The gun was the first thing that Seren saw. There was no looking away from the the moonlight converging on the metal. Then the rest of the image shattered her line of sight.

Half-submerged, Victoria sprawled at his feet. Magnus was holding Lark, bleeding and bruised, by the neck, dragging her farther into the retreating ocean, which seemed to sense the danger and was moving farther and farther out, giving the women a chance…