Page 33 of Christa's Obsession

“Oh, fuck… it’s Wanda, isn’t it! No, don’t tell me, shit! Fucksake. Alright, but you’ll owe me!”

She grinned, her face raised to the sun, enjoying the warmth against her skin. “Thank you. And I need it to happen asap.”

“You fucking would,” he grumped. “Leave it with me. I’ll get back in touch within the hour.”

She said goodbye to herself because he’d already hung up on her. Christa continued on down towards the house barefooted. The closer she got, the easier it was to see the neglect. Bigger than Silas’s home, and clearly built for a family, she walked around the outside, wondering why Wanda had done nothing with it. It had so much potential, not that she couldn’t see the appeal of living in Wanda’s trees. They moved to accommodate them, their needs.

Christa could admit that she missed her large bath, with water jets that could hit just the right spot. Cold water from the lake, though fresh and reinvigorating, wasn’t quite the same as a hot bath. And what would it be like in winter? She shivered at the very idea of washing in icy water, despite what the humans believed about the benefits.

As for everything else the trees offered, the leaves made a very comfortable bed. She could conjure whatever food she felt like. Not one to watch TV often or be big on social media, Christa didn’t miss them. She tried the door handle, surprised when it opened with ease. With a thought, she had sandals on her feet before stepping inside the musty smelling house.

The inside was worse than the outside. Mold grew up the walls, darkening the paint and wallpaper. Wood had started rotting,and the floorboards creaked ominously under her sandals. She flicked a light switch, and nothing happened. The taps in the kitchen produced just clunky metal grating noises. Yet the place was open and bright, where the light came in past the dirt on the windows. The place had potential.

Christa walked to the doors leading out into the orchard, and with a little shove, they opened to give her a perfect view of the orchard. She rearranged the house in her mind as she walked through, lost in her thoughts for so long, she jerked when her phone rang.

Seeing Merihem’s name, she swiped the screen, putting him on speaker without the threat of interruption. “It’s done. One of his staff will contact you with the date and time. Don’t miss it. And whatever you do, don’t mention Dakata’s name.”

She laughed at the absurdity of doing something so foolish. “Got it.”

“Be careful, he’s not in the best of moods.”

She sobered at what that could mean for her, for Wanda. “Thank you,” she murmured with complete sincerity.

“You're welcome. Just don’t fuck up and land me back in trouble.”

It had taken five days to get an audience with King Asmodeus and only after she had rung Merihem twice more to get things moving. Christa had a growing sense of urgency to talk about the next steps and didn’t feel she could until they had dealt with protecting the forest.

Wanda’s fear sometimes felt less, but it wasn’t, not really. She loathed to move outside the orchard. Christa didn’t need Wanda to say how she felt because, unwillingly, she shared it. Sometimes through her nightmares. In Christa’s mind, the only way to remove that fear was to make the forest safe from all visitors. To give Wanda back her freedom to choose if going to the forest was something she wanted to do.

“I won’t be long, I swear.” Christa kissed Wanda, her lips soft and sweet, from the breakfast they’d shared, making her linger.

Wanda clung to her, desperation pouring off her.

“I have to go, or I’ll be late.” She hated the feeling growing inside her when Wanda attempted to smile, only her lips trembled. “I’ll be fine. I have several leaves in my pocket. The girls have taken good care of me, so I’ll be fine while we’re apart.” She’d discovered they had been sneaky at that first meeting and snuck leaves into her coat, and why she’d not suffered as Dakata had by the initial separation after Wanda’s rejection.

Christa stroked the trunk of the nearest tree with affection. “They will keep you distracted while I am gone.” She came closer and whispered in Wanda’s ear, as she slipped a hand between her legs, stroking over her sex, “I’ll want you wet and aroused, but you aren’t to come until I get back.”

Wanda moaned and shuddered against Christa as her arousal scented the warm air between them. “Hurry.”

“I will, beloved.” Christa didn’t give herself a chance to change her mind and translocated to the demon realm. She didn’t consider wasting time going to her family's home. She already felt a drain on her energy. Was this the effect of leaving Wanda and her trees? She had no doubt it was.

It had been mere seconds and already she was stroking the leaves in her pocket, striding through the palace. Directed by staff to where she needed to go, Christa didn’t waver in her aim to get to the king as quickly as possible. Despite having never been inside the palace before, she found her way easily.

On time and in the right room, a very bored-looking demon sat at a desk. The place was as ornate and stuffy as she imagined it would be.

The demon didn’t so much as give her more than a courtesy glance before waving a hand. “Sit over there. Someone will call you.”

Having never requested such a meeting, she was clueless about what to expect, so Christa took the rather uncomfortable, hardleather seat and crossed her legs. Black silk trousers floated around her ankle as her foot, in six-inch killer heels, bounced impatiently. The nervousness roaming freely through her at how this was all going to turn out—if for some awful reason she failed—worsened with her not knowing how Wanda was coping in the forest without her. It was a necessity, because Wanda coming with her was an impossibility. Did it make a difference knowing that? Hell, no!

Whatever Christa had expected to feel, it wasn’t this soul sucking weight that worsened with every second she was away from Wanda. Like an absolute eternity passing in every breath, or what she imagined it would be like. She hated it.

Had she become clingy? Was that even a thing with a blissful one?

Christa gave a mournful sigh and stared at the large, ornate door she was sitting outside, willing it to open.

She checked her wristwatch. How had it only been five minutes?

Was Wanda feeling the same anxiety?

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