Page 86 of Tales of Earth and Leaves

Something happened, I need you to send the jet to get me out of here immediately. Talk to the royal family, the guards, anyone, please get me out of here as soon as you can.

It’s urgent, I need to come back home.

Please.’’

I did not add more information; I did not have any more myself. I didn’t tell him not to worry because, from Ansgar’s face, from the shock at the news and the way he agreed to meet that bastard Rhylan without any protest, I knew something had gone wrong.

By the time I finished wandering around the house to find anything that was suitable enough to use as a weapon, all the while trying to regain control over my shivering body, twenty-five minutes passed. I had set myself an hour, hoping that Ansgar would be back by that time and then I planned to run to the river and cross into the faerie-inhabited part of the forest, and walk along the bank until I found them.

That was the end of my plan because I had no idea what to do once I’d found them, since Rhylan seemed invulnerable to iron, and I was not one to know a lot of self-defence. But I packed all the knives I found in my backpack, including the dagger I used at the beginning of my walks, a hammer, rubbing alcohol and matches. Along with a first aid kit and a bottle of water.

“Thank God!” relief inundated me when the door opened and Ansgar walked back inside.

I rushed to him, happiness flushing through my veins as I hugged him, kissed him excitedly, my hands running through every inch of him to make sure he was safe, unharmed. Apart from a sorrowful expression on his face, he was perfectly fine, I thought.

The memories of what happened, the guilt, my stupid ignorance pressed over me and I started crying, yelping, asking for his forgiveness. Whatever I had done, whatever I had put him through with my blind trust and stupidity, I promised to make it right.

“Fahrenor,” he lifted my chin gently to make me face him, his gleamy ashen eyes. “There was no way for you to know. I should have taught you, prepared you better. Kept you safe.” He pressed a kiss on my hair, then another on my brow. “Did you call anyone?”

“The guard would not answer; I don’t think the phone is working. I emailed my dad, asked him to prepare the jet.”

He nodded approvingly. “Write to him again. Tell him Sunday morning.”

I raised my brows in surprise. “Why?”

“It’s the best time,” he said and walked into the kitchen to allow me the time to do it. I heard him drinking a few glasses of water straight from the tap, not bothering with the cold one we had in the fridge. I wrote back to my dad, with the details Ansgar provided. He walked behind me and read the email, whispering his approval when I pressed send. I told dad not to worry, that I was fine but I needed him to pick me up on Sunday morning. Due to Ansgar’s insistence, I added another line to tell him that it had to be Sunday, as early as possible. When I asked about it again, he avoided the answer and started kissing me.

“Ansgar, what’s happening?” I shifted back from the chair to look at him, tried to decipher whatever he was not telling, whatever he was trying to concede from me.

Something was not okay, but he didn’t seem angry with me, even though I deserved it. He would not tell me what happened, but he seemed more relaxed at the thought that my father was coming to pick me up on that particular day. A day and a half from now. That was all we had left.

I had so many questions, things to say to him, we needed to form a plan, I needed to know how we could meet once I returned to New York, how I would find him, but everything faded into nothing as he pressed his lips on mine once again, willing my mouth to open and receive the taste of him, his hands caressing my skin like a soft wind did the surface of a lake.

I needed him as much as he needed me, I wanted to feel him inside of me, know that he was there, back and safe in my arms, so I let him. I let him carry me back into the bedroom, where he removed my clothes with such gentleness as though he was unwrapping a precious gift. He planted a long line of kisses from my neck, down the valley of my breasts, stopping to grab and tease each one with his tongue and teeth, then down to my navel and lower, towards my inner thighs.

“Ansgar, please,” I begged, the need to feel him too great to care about anything else. I covered my core for emphasis, hoping that his face, now situated in between my legs, would be replaced with what I wanted the most.

“We have all night, my love. Let me enjoy you.” He delved between my thighs with his mouth, his lips sucking and tongue brushing me like an easel in the hands of a madman. I gasped, my breath stopping when his tongue slid inside of me, tasting and tormenting and even so, I wanted more. More of this, more of him. “Please,” I whimpered again and this time, my breaking voice had him convinced because he slid into me in one determined stroke, making me scream at the sudden sensation, the way my body had to part so abruptly to receive him.

“Mmmhmm,” he moaned at the tightness, the way my thighs squeezed him. “I will never get tired of this fahrenor,” he murmured and started to move, forcing me to feel every tick inch of him as he retracted, then pushed back in, each time a little faster and deeper until I was so full of him I wanted to blast out with pleasure.

The thrill of Ansgar inside of me, of our bodies connecting in such a way had me whimpering and almost sobbing as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through me, over and over until I became a trembling mess, begging him.

To stop, to give me this, to give me more, I did not know.

The only thing my mind could focus on was the way he felt, the way he forced my body and lower muscles to contort in such ways I did not think possible, making them expulse every shred of pleasure they were capable of. By the time we finished, both our bodies shaking from the magnitude of pleasure and effort we had pushed them through, a blanket of night had fallen over the horizon. I shifted, awakened from a trance to check the alarm clock. It was almost ten in the evening.

“I need to call my dad,” I announced to Ansgar, who rested lazily on the bed sheets, his head tilted to one side on the pillow. Sleeping. He had fallen asleep in the ten seconds it took me to raise from bed and check the time. I smiled at him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

He looked peaceful. Tired, but serene features lined his face. I pulled a blanket and tucked him in, gently caressing his jaw and planting a few more kisses on his lips, which, to my surprise, he did not react to. Very tired indeed.

I cracked open a window, just an inch or two, enough to let fresh air in, along with the songs of crickets and birds I knew he loved, then headed downstairs and placed two pizzas in the oven, realising we hadn’t eaten anything all day, apart from each other. I grabbed the laptop to see my father already connected and waiting for me to call.

I sighed, knowing I had lots of explaining to do. I had hoped Ansgar would be awake and by my side for this, but I did not have the heart to wake him up, especially after all the events. I would keep details to a minimum and once he and I talked and formed a plan in the morning, I could give my family more details.

So I pressed the video call button and in only two buzzes, I found both my parents sighing with relief to see me safe and well. I told them I was going crazy with boredom and I needed to go back on Sunday because Cressi had an event I needed to attend the next day. Even though dad scoffed at all the paperwork and fines we had to pay, which I offered to do so from my trust fund, an idea that he immediately rejected, my mom looked relieved to have me back earlier and started telling me about all the event planning she had done and the people she had already hired. The oven dinged and I said goodbye to them, thanking them for the support and understanding, then headed back into the kitchen to search for two plates and bring my fae prince some food.

As I climbed the stairs carrying two plates and two cans of coke, I heard him being sick in the bathroom and immediately hurried into the room. He had closed the door, a silent request for privacy. I wouldn’t want anyone to hover above me while I was spilling my guts, so I went back into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and an apple, ready for when he came out.

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