Daughters of Olympus (Reverse Harem Romances)

The atmosphere poolside is a little wild, lots of hotel guests are here for the party vibe, and while it might not be something I’m used too, I look around and quickly assess that it is exactly what we all need.

Today at rehearsal, things were tense. Lark left late last night after we all made out with her for hours. I thought we’d been finding a place with one another, but then she spoke with North in the bathroom and next thing I know, she’d left the suite upset.

We got the truth out of him last night. He wouldn’t tell Lark the truth of what we are, and that pissed her off, and rightly so. She’s been lied to her whole life, the last thing she wants is a rela- tionship with men who lie to her too.

But North wasn’t trying to insinuate anything when he told her that we might scare her off. It’s something we’re all scared of and something Gaia specifically told us not to do.

We sit at a table and order beers from a waitress who walks around in a tiny bikini. She may be beautiful, but she’s so not my type. Loud and flirty. I prefer a woman like Lark–she carries her confidence in a softer, more subtle way.

Lark is clearly sexual, her body was warm and sensitive last night when we kissed: her body pressing against mine, her hands threading through my hair. Yet she also held restraint. It was alluring, her ability to practice patience. I know she’s never slept with anyone, but she isn’t pushing for it either. And that is incred- ibly attractive.

“So, I spoke to Melanie today,” she starts. “Yeah?” Vaughn asks. “What about.” “About focus. And distractions.”

I watch Sawyer lift an eyebrow, and since he’s sitting next to her, I see him run a hand over her arm. “What sort of distrac- tions, little bird?”

She bites her bottom lip. “Distractions like five cast mates who I can’t seem to stop thinking about.”

The table gets quiet.

“Melanie reminded me that this show is a once in a lifetime opportunity. And I don’t want to mess it up by…”

“By kissing us?” Brecken asks.

Her cheeks heat up, and damn, I love it when they do. I know I’m not the joker of the group, or the playboy, but I watch people, observe them. And when I watch Lark her innocence makes my heart ache–it’s so damn beautiful.

“Yeah. I mean … I can see her point. But also, after talking to North last night, I worry that none of you actually think I’m strong on my own. You think I’m in need of your protection. You think I can’t handle whatever you aren’t telling me.”

“It’s not that,” I say, wishing I could lay it all out there. “I think you’re incredibly strong. You don’t just get a Vegas show by doing things half-assed. You’re strong and smart and incredibly talented.”

“Then why hold back?”

We all look at one another, as if debating how much to say. “It’s not so simple,” North tells her. She starts to speak, but he

shakes her head and she stops, leans back, and listens. “We aren’t like regular people.”

“I figured.”

“You did?” Vaughn frowns.

“You know, when you told me Mother Earth was your guardian angel I figured you weren’t regular guys. But I’m not a regular girl either, am I? You see me on the stage. I know what I do – what we all do–isn’t humanly possible. Heck, if we were focused, we could nail that show in another week. I know how talented we are. But what we possess … it isn’t just raw talent. It’s extraordinary.”

“When you’re on stage, Lark, it’s more than human,” I tell her honestly. “But what is it?”

She narrows her eyes. “I thought you guys were here to tell me what I am.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. Gaia only told us to protect you, she didn’t tell us what you are.” The sun beats down on us, and I wish we had a little shade–where we sit feels right out in the open. Our hearts on display.

“But aren’t we the same?” she asks.

I swallow the lump in my throat, and all us guys share a nervous look. Shit, we can’t hold back anymore if we want to keep her close. Not telling her now is going to push her away.

I reach across the table and take her hand. “We’re not the same, Lark.”

She lowers her chin. “Oh. I thought …”

I see it in her eyes, what she thought. She thought that maybe, just maybe, this would be the way to answer at least some of her questions.

Where she comes from.

But I can’t tell her that. Because I haven’t a clue.

Before I say any more, a woman in oversized black sunglasses and a straw hat stops at our table.