Jeez.
“Trae, like I’ve said repeatedly, I’m taken.”
“I can take you too.”
I sighed.
“Okay, I mean, you’re hot. Hotter than hot. You’re crazy hot. But it’s just not going to happen. I’m in love with Ash.”
“Hot?”
“Handsome. Gorgeous. Good-looking. Insanely attractive. Ridiculously beautiful. Alluring. Appealing. Stunning. Etcetera, etcetera.”
“You say all this and yet you have not seen me naked and fully aroused. When you do, there will be new meaning to all these words for you.”
Good Goddess and all things fluffy and feathery.
“Honey,” I said softly, “my heart belongs to Ash.”
He let me go and took a step back, now appearing adorably pouty.
“I need coitus,” he explained.
I was getting that.
“Okay, um, non-magical people can’t see you so—”
I was trying to figure out how I could find some witches or sorceresses or something so he and Sar could get laid.
“Only when we don’t wish to be seen.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Of course,” he answered.
That made it easier.
“We’ll go to a bar,” I decided. ‘Do you mind putting your wings away so it won’t freak out the humans?”
“Will I be able to release my seed inside a female or more than one of them and do this repeatedly?”
He’d walk into any bar and totally pull in about two seconds.
I nodded.
“I will inform Sarionion that tonight we hunt.”
Hunt?
He smiled at me so happily, it radiated light and warmth into the marrow of my bones, and before I could ask about hunting, he was off.
I knocked on BecBec’s door.
She didn’t answer.
I turned the knob to go inside.
I got the door an inch open before it slammed shut and then the entire door disappeared and became a wall.
I took that as BecBec not wanting any company.
“I’m here when you need me!” I shouted to the new wall.
There was no reply.
By the by, we decided to make a night of it.
This meant Lucy, Josie, Aidan as well as Ash and I went out with Sar and Trae to help them score.
Su showed later with one of her dudes.
Viv showed even later, with Mack (Mack!! What was that about???!!!).
And yeah.
I was right.
Wearing faded jeans and sweaters and boots with their wings folded and tucked away, from arrival to departure (with a party of five women who were clearly on a girls’ night out that turned into a girl-and-hot-guy/elf orgy) Trae and Sar were in the bar for about fifteen minutes.
For the next week they were a lot happier seeing as the Carriage House had turned into a Sex Palace.
I heard two of the girls lost their jobs because they didn’t even bother to phone in fake-sick.
I saw a few of the women when they left.
They looked dreamy and like they’d been hit a hundred times with gigantic powder puffs packed with every shade of shimmer Becca cosmetics produced.
So I don’t think they minded.
Also by the by, the Imperial Order demanded my return to the Realm to discuss the situation of BecBec and their Guardians.
With BecBec and their Guardians returning with me.
I refused.
They then requested my return.
But with BecBec, Trae and Sar.
I again refused.
Then Cystiennien sent me a handwritten note, inviting me to sit down with him personally as his honored guest in the Realm to come to an agreement about this matter.
BecBec, Sar and Trae were not required to be with me.
I accepted.
16 March
On mini-break with Ash!
He found this secluded cabin in the mountains, no one around for miles, so high up, the snow was still deep and fluffy and the cabin was all cozy and wa
Later:
Sooooooo...
Ah...
Yum.
Still later:
I totally love Jacuzzis.
Still later:
Right, so I was sharing with my journal when Ash pulled it out of my hands so we cou
And later:
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…
So haaaaaaappppppyyyy.
18 March
I thought I was in love with Sir Sebastian Quincy Wilding.
Now I know how incredibly in love with Sir Sebastian Quincy Wilding I actually am.
I would level the entire world if anyone ever tried to hurt him again.
22 March
We’re back, but my mind is still in the mountains.
Though my heart is with me. In Denver.
That heart being Ash.
We had to get packed to return to the UK to go back to the Realm to sort this business with BecBec once and for all.
I didn’t want to go.
I didn’t want to do anything but head back up to the cabin with Ash and spend days, weeks, months, years in bed (or in the Jacuzzi), just him and me.
We did it.
Ash made love to me.
Not just fingers or mouths (though there were fingers and mouths involved…copiously).
The whole enchilada.
And what I said was true.
The first time we did it, he made love to me.
I didn’t make love to him, he did it to me.
I’ll tell you something, my man knows what he was doing.
In all ways that entails.
It wasn’t about delayed gratification.
It was about him taking us to a place where there was nothing else, but us.
No Mom, Dad, Gabe, Viv and Su.
No Josie and Rory and Aidan and Lucy.
No BecBec and Trae and Sar.
No British Witches Council or Federal Witches Agency.
No Agatha Darling or Endora Eccles or impending war.
No cookbooks and coffee houses and boutique shops.
Just him.
And me.
Just him moving inside…
Me.
His eyes holding mine.
His hand holding mine.
His lips whispering, “Fuck, I love you, Matty.”
His eyes getting melty when I whispered back, “I love you too, Ash.”
It was ours.
Only ours.
(And the four thousand, six hundred and seventeen other times we did it, or parts of it, were just ours too.)
I got to return the gesture.
The making-love-to-him gesture.
I hoped it was as profound as what he gave me.
Then again, it seemed like it was.
And Ash wouldn’t lie to me.
(Well, not about that.)
And in the warmth of our cocoon of covers, or the bubble of hot tub waters, while kissing or touching or feeding bits of cheese or squares of chocolate or fat grapes to each other, I learned a lot about him.
Including the fact his mom died when he was seven.
She did this while protecting him because he was one of my prophesied, and even back then someone wanted to take him out.
And although until then it had not occurred to me that he was as in danger as I was, it did when he shared all this with me.
Especially watching his face, hearing the heaviness of his words, feeling the need from his hands on me as it was made perfectly clear that, losing her at seven, he had amassed plenty of memories of his mom.
And they were good ones.
Because she was a great mom.
He adored her.
He missed her.
And he was equal parts sad and proud that his mother was the kind of person who would care so deeply for her son, she’d sacrifice her life for his future.
So yeah.
Mark this.
If
anyone tried to harm him again.
They would answer to me.
1 April
So.
Yeah.
We were screwed.
Because BecBec was no longer in Elf Gaol.
But Ash and I were.
2 April
Just got back from another sit down with Maithieliel.
Update: Maithieliel is not my biggest fan.
Another update: Maybe this listening idea I came up with isn’t all I thought it was cracked up to be seeing as listening to the rantings of a spoilt elfin queen isn’t much fun.
Another update: I do not like this bitch at all.
Only good thing about this current situation is that I’m incarcerated with Ash.
We hadn’t been separated.
Though another bad part of this situation was that Ash was by far way more pissed about this situation than I was.
My man had a thing about being powerless.
I was with him on that.
Here’s what happened:
We went to the Realm.
We were shown to our quarters.
They were the same quarters as before, with all the accoutrement, including cute Realm outfits for me and loincloths that Ash ignored.
Ash and I made love on the snowy coverlet this time before we went to have dinner with Cystieniennien.
We did not go to the big palace dining room like before.
We went to his private quarters and he was just as magnanimous as he had been during our last visit.
I was getting the idea that all of this would be fine, BecBec’s sentence would be commuted, she’d be free to live her life as she wished, not as an eternal refugee (literally), and I decided I really liked Cystien (as he asked me to call him).
Then the doors busted open, there were about five hundred flying elves all around us, all of them males, and although Ash kicked ass (I mean, even against flying Fae, with no weapon, my man was a machine, it was so cool and totally unreal) and my wand was a blur of magical goodness, Maithieliel showed, got her hands—and a dagger—to my throat and that was it.
Cystien was blustering his fury, but he’d also been tied by some rope that looked like it came right off Wonder Woman’s belt seeing as it glowed gold and was clearly something he could not break free from.
Ash and I also got some of that rope tied to us so I could then confirm it was impossible to get free from.
We were then escorted to and thrown in Elf Gaol, my wand was confiscated, and I exhausted myself by hurling magic straight from my hand at the glowing green bars that made up the (circular) door to our cell before Ash urged me to conserve my strength, because he’d think of something.
The thing was…
We’d been there awhile and he hadn’t thought of anything yet.
And when I was taken to have a chat with Maithieliel, they didn’t take him with me.
But we were mind-melded so he could sit in, as it were.
So one thing we both knew for certain:
Maithieliel had not yet departed the crazy train.
Thus last night, while Ash and I lay together on the slim pallet in our cell under the thin blanket we were given, he stared at the ceiling and I stared at his chest.
(No worries, it wasn’t cold there, so we were good. And they might not serve chocolate-covered strawberries as prison fare, but the food didn’t suck—and by the by, the suitcases I’d had to leave behind in our mad escape were delivered to the cell, along with the new ones we’d brought, including my Journal and Ash’s stuff, so it wasn’t like we were being tortured (as I would consider it if I had to wear an orange jumpsuit—I looked good in orange, but jumpsuits were not my thing), but we still were not having a lot of fun.)
“We should have returned home by now,” I muttered.
“Yes.”
“They’re going to come after us.”
“Yes.”
“The Fae have some serious magic.”
“Yes.”
“Ash—”
My voice was trembling because I loved my mom and dad and Gabe and Su and Viv and Gran, and I knew Mavis and the UK coven would show and who knew who else that had a place in my heart (Aidan, who wasn’t magical at all!!!).
Also Trae and Sar and maybe even BecBec, all of whom Maithieliel had pronounced Traitors of the Realm, and thus all of them were going to have their wings clipped if she got her hands on them and…and…
GAH!
If they came down here trying to bust us out, who knew what would be lost.
Ash turned into me and held me close as he shushed, “Shh.”
I pressed even closer and told him what he knew not only from the mind-meld, but also since I told him with my mouth because I had to spit out what entered my brain through my ears.
“She’s going to clip Cystiennien’s wings tomorrow.”
“Matty, hold yourself together.”
“She’s going to make us watch.”
“Matty, it’s going to be okay.”
“Not for Cystien!” my voice was rising.
Ash kissed me.
A be-quiet kiss.
I got quiet.
He stopped kissing me.
“I’m SuperWitch but I’m not SuperWitch-slash-Warrior. Those mofos are fast and they—”
“Darling?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to survive this.”
I felt hope. “Do you know that from the Mathilda Prophesies?”
“No. I know that because, if it comes down to it, however I have to do it, I’m going to make it so we survive this.”
You know, he said those words, and call me crazy in our current predicament, I totally believed him.
4 April
Okay.
Well…fuck.
And…
Shoo.
I was a big fan of that Vikings TV show.
I mean, that shit could get real, but Rollo was all kinds of hot.
That said, there was this one scene where Ragnar (also hot, though not Rollo-hot, imo) did this thing to one of his enemies where he made wings out of the dude’s lungs.
His lungs!
It’s a real thing, or it was, in ancient Viking times.
The Blood Eagle.
Yeah.
Serious gross.
Well, you know, the Vikings got that idea from somewhere.
And now I know where.
Except backward.
Not making wings.
Taking them.
Right, we’ll start with reminding you of the fact that the golden ropes not only could hold Cystien, they could hold me.
And although Ash could wield small amounts of magic, he was no vampire, no werewolf, no sorcerer and definitely no SuperWitch.
So it went without saying the ropes could hold him.
Truth be told, I was never a front-row-seat type o’ gal.
You couldn’t see it all when you were up that close.
And I was a girl who wanted it all.
But front row to this, you could see everything.
And I didn’t want that.
I didn’t have a choice.
ACK!
There before us on a wide, white podium (as with everything royal it seemed in the Realm, this whole gig was white), Cystien hung, wearing only a (yeah, white) loincloth, which did not have the long drape in front.
His feet were shackled with gold-glowing chains to the floor. His arms spread wide and held tight to posts with the same.
There was one bright spot to all of this and that was that BecBec would never endure this.
Never, never, never.
Now, this was happening in an amphitheater. Not exactly Hollywood Bowl. More like a smaller Colorado Shakespeare Festival.
And there weren’t a lot of attendees.
I was glad of that for Cystien.
I mean, seeing him hanging up there, it wasn’t the first time I noticed he was bigger and more imposing than any of the other elves. There w
as an obvious reason he was king, and sure, it might have something to do with the fact that he was the only one with black hair, but in his case, it also had to be about the physical.
As such, not only his body, but his wings were resplendent.
Seriously.
They were kinda spiky, edged with fluttery-feathery black. They had this amazing seafoam-tinted platinum color where they met his back, shifting out into hues of purple at the top, blue at the bottom, then drifting into steel gray toward the black at the ends.
They were also huge, taller than him by at least a foot, and the male himself had to be six-seven at least.
They were delicate yet denoted strength and power.
I didn’t understand it.
But that was what they were.
His handsome face that had always been kind and welcoming was now, no surprise, a mask of rage.
And Maithieliel, not wearing an elfin tutu but instead a tight piece of colorless material around her breasts, a female-style loincloth hiding her sex, wandered about him, caressing his wings like the lover she had been to him.
It was wrong to hate.
But I hated her.
I so, so, so, so fucking hated her.
But when I tore my eyes from her to look at Cystien, I saw, also unsurprisingly, what love he had for her had turned to the same.
Hate.
No.
Loathing.
This whole thing was hideous.
But somehow, knowing these two once loved each other, and it had come to this due to unhealthy obsession, that made it a million times worse.
So much so, tears filled my eyes.
That was when a couple of weird things happened.
First, I felt Ash shift.
I was tied pretty tight, no way I could shift.
But Ash was shifting.
Second, as he held my gaze, the rage drained from Cystien’s face and his expression seemed soothing.
Like (I know, crazy! right?) he was trying to calm me.
“You should have left him to me,” Maithieliel said, turning Cystien’s attention.
“I did. Far too long. My love for you blinded me. You caused me great pain, how thoroughly you offered your heart to that human,” Cystien replied.
The Rise of the Dark Lord Page 12