Page 48 of Christa's Obsession

He’s just standing, staring at nothing, in the orchard.

Is he injured?A feeling of concern came, despite a niggle of worry about approaching the king alone.

No, he is unharmed, but his emotions are strong. Unbalanced.

Doing her best not to overthink what she was about to do, she crept out of her trees.Close back up to shield Christa.

They did as she requested, and a moment later, dressed, she walked silently towards the king, who looked like a statue in the moonlight, standing in her orchard.

When he didn’t seem to notice her, she asked softly, “Is there a reason you’re standing there like a statue in the moonlight?”

He glanced at her, his eyes pools of black in the moonlight.

When all he did was stare for longer than was polite, she checked her dress was covering everything. Her hair swayed over her shoulders as she used the moonlight to guide her closer to him.

His distress tainted the air, and she felt the weight of his immense sadness. “My trees are nervous even when I know youmean us no harm.” The stone that sat inside her trees was proof of that.

“We do not,” he rasped, clearly struggling to hold on to what was causing his pain.

It was easy to recall how the fear had not returned after his visit, even now, as he stood silently watching her. She had a lot to be grateful to this demon for. If she could help, she would.

“Then did you get lost in the forest searching for Dakata?” she persisted, attempting to find a way to get him to talk about what was on his mind.

The breeze picked up and her dress fluttered about her legs, drawing her attention to what she hadn’t initially noticed—though how she missed the nudity of an over seven-foot demon was beyond her. Her head quirked to the side, keeping her gaze from dipping. His emotions had been her immediate concern, not the lack of clothing.

Searching for something to say, she waffled, “Although the lateness of the hour would suggest that calling now may not be appropriate.”

She nearly sighed in relief when, a moment later, he wore a long, flowing robe and tied it at his waist.

“Where is Christa?” he asked, yet she sensed that was not what he wanted to say.

“She has some business to take care of in the demon realm, she will be along shortly. Did you wish to speak to her?” The lie rolled off her tongue, because going to get Christa was not what she thought the king wanted, she just couldn’t say why.

“I… there… yes… see…” he stuttered, not looking at her but at the ground.

Wanda was more attuned to the forest than many understood. Wanda felt Dougal’s distress, the building emotions he struggled to contain until she felt him release them. They shook her trees, giving her a blast of what had upset him. Dougal kept his personal life to himself, and Wanda honored that. She did, however, know there was something between him and this demon. The king’s presence in the forest, when he came to meet her, had not been the first time.

The king’s essence was there in the earth, the roots of the trees, the plants. For that to happen, he must have visited many times and had a connection to the one being who nurtured the forest since its inception—Dougal. She would never speak of it to anyone, it was not her place, but here and now she felt compelled to continue to talk, to see if it helped the demon. “Is it about Dougal?”

The quiet question got his eyes narrowing on her, but she never flinched. “What do you know? What has he said?”

She giggled before she could stop it at how his eyes actually glowed with hope. He was that easy to read. “You and he are a lot alike. Dougal has said nothing to me.” Her expression lostthe playfulness and turned serious. “I am part of these trees, therefore part of the roots that reach into the ground. There is little in the forest that escapes the true forest dwellers, and I would say all that Dougal has been feeling of late, we feel, too.” She gave him what she felt he needed—the truth.

“Feel? What does he feel?” he asked, the words tumbling from his lips.

That was easy to answer. “Everything.”

He huffed, and she sensed his ire in the change in the breeze against her bare arms. “What kind of answer is that?”

“The only one.” She came closer, her need to touch him when she understood his fear better than most driving her to reach out and place a hand on his arm. “Fear can kill everything that is good with its shadow. It will smother a heart, the love within it, if one lets it.”

Asmodeus stared down at her hand as if not quite believing she had the audacity to touch him.

The sob that tore from his throat was harrowing and made her heart ache for him. The next one brought him to the ground, he sat like his legs could no longer support him and Wanda followed, sitting next to him, patting his hand gently. “That’s it. Let it out.”

As he shook, sobbing uncontrollably, she entwined her fingers as best she could in the massive, clawed hand, feeling him clingingto her. “It’s a heavy burden you carry. Put it down a while, then you might see your way more clearly.”

She knew the moment Christa woke and felt her panic at finding her gone. She blocked her, knowing any request she would deny.

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