Five

A few minutes later, Rook was manuevering the bike through the streets, and I couldn’t help but let Mother Nature soothe me. The wind blew silken caresses against my skin, whispering its love song within the fragrances it carried upon its breath, and I allowed myself to relax a little for the first time in a long time. The last four years had been rough, and I’d missed the few members of my old family I'd become close with, and I missed Dillon. I’d had no alternative though, but to realize there was no going back. Marlowe Mills, was—to all intents and purposes—dead. A circumstance, which still had me, reeling. Dillon, had kicked me out of the compound and told me to never come back.

I’d finally come to some type of acceptance with my current situation. However, any acceptance over the loss of Torin? No—there still wasn’t, and I didn’t know if there ever would be.

How does one come to terms with the loss of part of their soul? Terms with knowing you would never see that person again, never hear their voice or feel their caress again? All of it was beyond what I’d thought I could handle, and for a while, I’d feared I wouldn’t. I feared I was going to disappear into my own mind and broken heart. However, eventually I’d begun to heal. No, I wasn’t over his loss and I never would be, but I’d learned to cope. I’d learned how to put one foot in front of the other again, to accept each day as it presented itself to me. With time, I’d even begun to appreciate the sun again as it rose each morning and the moon’s appearance each night.

The little things had finally begun to matter again. The sound of birdsong, the feel of crisp cotton sheets upon my skin, the laugh of others—there was a time I’d hated the fact anyone could find such joy within their life to laugh. I’d hated the happiness within their hearts, which had allowed them to feel what I couldn’t, as my world had been dark, haunted. However, even the darkest of hours can become full of light again with time. That’s what happened to me—no, it didn’t come overnight, or even within days. Weeks hadn’t even covered it, for that matter. No, it was more like months.

The rowdy crowd of the bar I worked at had helped; added to that, had been the persistence of a good friend. The mending of my shredded heart had come in increments, but it had come—mostly, because of the man sitting in front of me. Each time I’d bury myself in the hole I’d dug and begin throwing dirt on top of myself, he'd drag me out of it, kicking and screaming, as wiping the dirt off, he’d shake life back into my tormented existence. Finally, there had come a day, he’d helped me fill in the hole and walk away, at last becoming comfortable with only tossing the occasional glance in its direction, however, no longer carrying the desire to crawl in it.

Over time, I’d begun to trust and care for Rook…who had, a little at a time, worked his way into becoming my best friend. As such, he’d become the only one in this new life, who knew of my past.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I glanced around at my surroundings, realizing we were way the hell out in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt! Nonetheless, we kept moving forward in between Eucalyptus trees that smelled like cat piss, on a path that looked no more than a freaking cow trail, until finally we’d reached an opening.

Abruptly my jaw dropped and a muttered, "Oh, hell no!" escaped my mouth as I peered at what had to be the largest orgy known to man, and I wanted nothing to do with it!

Rook slowed his bike, then came to a stop, parking within a mass of other bikes, and I found myself growling out a, "No! NO WAY! Just turn this bike around— right the fuck now—and take me the hell away from here!"

Climbing off, Rook looked at me as I continued to sit, my ass glued to the seat. A grin stole across his lips and he gave a small shake of his head, murmuring, "Relax, Cookie, will ya? Ain’t a soul here gonna touch you without your say so."

Glancing around again, my eyes took in both male and female in all states of dress. I was unable, but to let my eyes roam over the—freedom—of the sexual acts on display for all to see.

After a few seconds, I turned back to look at Rook, exclaiming, "What the hell, Rook?” before stuttering out, “Surely you don’t expect me to…to…join… in?" Eyes huge and roaming again, I breathed, "HOLY CRAP, Rook!"

Amusement crossed his features, and after pitching his eyes over the scene of debauchery going on around us, a laugh ripped loose from his chest as he exclaimed, "Oh shit, woman…we’re just having a blow-out. You weren’t brought here for this!" Then sticking out a hand, he muttered, "Now, come on, let’s go!"

Slowly, I reached out, allowing him to take my hand and help me off the bike, all the while wondering just what I was walking into. I knew all about the walk of shame, I’d been there, done that. However, this? This would end with a walk from the participants WAY beyond any walk I had ever taken.

As we began to mill our way through the exhibition, I couldn’t help but find my eyes falling on the sex acts being performed around us. I’d always felt I was damned liberated and open minded, hell, I’d worked in a damn strip club for Christ’s sake, but this—this was a whole different kettle of fish, and I felt like the lone Guppy in a pile of Bass!

My face flushed and my eyes grew big, as the pairing was, to say the least, very open-minded. There were men on men, women on women, two women and one man, two men and one woman, three, four couples, getting it on together, and the list just went on and on. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a donkey somewhere within the mix! Then, when I thought I’d seen all there was to be seen, and there couldn’t possibly be anything else to surprise me, one particular couple caught my attention and I breathed, "What the fuck? How in the hell? OH MY GOD—I didn’t know that was even possible!!!!

Laughing, Rook tugged at my hand, chuckling, "Come on, big-eyes, I think your sensibilities have been overloaded enough!"

With a small gulp, I turned, beginning to follow Rook. However, before we’d made it ten feet, he was forced to raise a leg and kick a couple out of our way, muttering, "Damn Cappie, get your scrawny ass out of the way," as a man and woman flopped over in front of us, a tangle of arms, legs, and body parts, I’d rather not have seen.

Shaking his head, Rook tugged at my hand again, moving us around the couple, who seemed to have not paid the least attention to Rook’s words as they continued on with their… God, I didn’t know what to call it.

Finally, as we reached the door leading into the clubhouse, I found myself letting out a relieved breath, happy to put the whole, free-living circus behind us. However, the jarring thought it was highly possible I’d find the same type of behavior, if not worse, occurring on the other side of the door as what I’d been witnessing, stopped me dead in my tracks. Rook feeling my sudden resistance, peered over his shoulder at me, as I breathed out a worried, "Um, Rook?"

Raising an eyebrow, he silently encouraged me to continue. I gave a quick glance at the scene behind us. "What do you think the chances are of finding that,” I asked, indicating the mass of thriving bodies with my head, “going on in there?"

With a practiced eye running his eyes over my face, Rook murmured, "You’re really uncomfortable with this whole scene, aren’t you?"

I gave a shrug. "Uncomfortable is an understatement! Shit, Rook, I’ve seen animals in the zoo with far more modesty than what I’ve witnessed here!"

With a smirk, Rook scratched his chin, but before he could answer my question, a deep, gravelly, somewhat hoarse voice sneered from behind me, "Close your eyes, then, princess!"

Jerking around, I found myself staring at the bearded face of a man I had a hard time deciding whether was devastatingly handsome, or fucked the shit up!

A jagged, raised, purplish-red scar ran from left to right across the length of his forehead, just below the skullcap molded to his head. However, the scar on his forehead wasn’t where the damage to his features ended, for separating its way from its mother, was a child mutilation, which ran downward and sliced a quarter of the right side of his eyebrow in half. From there, it continued its journey beside the piercing green of his right eye, before disappearing into his hairline.

Slowly, my eyes dropped lower, tracing the bare chest beneath his vest. The smoothness of his skin was marred by multiple crisscrosses of the same type of red, purplish-hued scars as his face. The disfigurements painted the otherwise perfection of his flesh in puckered whelps, which flowed their way over his stomach and abs in harmonized rivers that trailed off beneath the waistband of his jeans. Though the scars weren’t fresh, I could tell they weren’t that old, either. Yet, even with all the damage to his features and body, somehow, it didn’t repulse, instead, they added mystery, allure, and, I admit, made him sexy as all fucking hell!