10 March

 

Okay, obviously a lot going on. So I’ll just get right to it.

Since we suddenly found ourselves fugitives (or, uh, I’d suddenly made us all fugitives) and we had to get out of the country and away from any Faerie Mounds ASAP (the USA didn’t have any Faerie Mounds, FYI—in fact, it was rare the Fae crossed the pond), I did not meet with the guys at the Institute to give them a pep talk, thank them for their allegiance and encourage them to gird their loins and eat their fiber.

Ditto with not being able to meet with Le Société to talk them into casting their lot with the Modernists.

Last, I had to miss the second meeting in London with our producers and the people at the BBC to discuss our cookery program (which sucked on a variety of levels, one of which was that I had a killer outfit for that meeting, another was that I loved London, and a third was that I wondered, since Ash was a Sir, if we might be able to stop for tea at Buckingham Palace).

No.

Instead, Ash commissioned a private plane.

By the by, this was awesome, because it was the-lap-of-luxury posh, as well as terrible, because everyone knows, once you go posh, you can never go back.

But we couldn’t fly commercial, obviously.

Non-magical people couldn’t see the elves, but they still existed so they needed to sit their asses somewhere. And although the elves had a way to fold and tuck their wings so they could pass as humans or they could reduce themselves to fit in my purse, Sar and Trae flatly refused to do either.

And BecBec wasn’t responding to anything at all and seemed to be acting solely on autopilot.

So, as such, we flew back to Denver.

That “we” being me, Ash, BecBec, Sar (rhymes with “far”) and Trae (said like “Trey”).

And Aidan.

That was Ash and Aidan’s decision, as Ash explained (irritably, and this not because Aidan was with us, but because I’d freed BecBec against his wishes and with his (and Aidan’s) forced participation since I was going to do it with or without them, and, as Ash had been demonstrating when it came to me, there was no without him), “You need as much protection as you can get. Seymour is the Mathilda Scholar, but he’s also the foremost specialist on the Fae.”

Aidan, so totally a genius.

Needless to say, my decision to break BecBec out of prison was not a popular one even with my posse.

Dad was furious.

Gabe was disappointed.

Mom was beside herself.

Even Su thought I’d lost my mind. (“You don’t force your ideals on other peoples!” yadda, yadda, yadda.)

Dad and Gabe flew home from Washington and there was a lot of drama, lectures, shouting and demands that I make overtures to the Imperial Order as well the King and Queen personally, apologizing for my grave mistake, explaining my emotions got the better of me, extending offerings of recompense and promising to return BecBec, Sar and Trae to them to do with as they will.

 

Just to say…

No fucking way.

About three days into this, when Dad was sharing that he himself begged Prunella to act as an intermediary on our behalf to negotiate the return of the elves, and she reluctantly agreed, and I was sitting in Mom’s living room, fuming (I mean, did no one respect the SuperWitch, in other words, ME!?), with Ash and Aidan standing to one side of me, Sar and Trae to the other, I looked to BecBec curled in a club chair.

Her wings were tucked tight to her body like she was protecting them.

She was eating.

But she was not talking.

And she had not come out of herself even a little bit.

I cut my father off in mid-bluster and called, “My lovely, you need to go up to your room and have a bit of a rest. You don’t need to be here for this.”

She was staying in my old room.

Marcus had flown back to England to deal with this issue within Le Société (they weren’t real thrilled we’d done it either) so Sar and Trae were staying in the Carriage House.

Aidan was back in his old room.

It was all a bustle again at The Acre.

BecBec didn’t even look at me.

“Matty, are you listening to me?” Dad snapped.

I looked at Dad.

“I’m not returning her. If need be, we’ll go on the lam.”

“Fucking hell,” Ash muttered.

“Are you unaware that everything about the existence of a number of races is hanging in the balance of what started Hallowe’en night and every member of all those races is looking to you as the means, whether they think it will be good, or bad, of how we will go forward?” Dad demanded.

“They can sort themselves out. BecBec saved Ash’s life. Hers will not be forfeit because of it and I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Dad flung an arm at BecBec. “She’s immortal!”

I stood and shouted, “Yes, Dad! And as much as I hate to point this out, some time in the future, Ash will be no longer. I will be no longer. The children we’ll have will be no longer. Our children’s children will be no longer. But BecBec will endure her punishment until the entire universe blinks out of existence! In other words, the punishment does not fit the crime!”

Dad shut up.

“This is true,” Josie said softly. “In fact, it’s debatable a crime has even been committed.”

“Word!” I snapped.

God, I loved Josie.

“Okay, so, sure,” I carried on when no one said anything. “She did wrong as pertains to their laws, and she knew she did wrong, and if she has to endure some sentence for that, she does. But not that. Absolutely not that.”

Still, no one said anything.

Then someone did.

“Maithieliel had a great love.”

Everyone looked to Sar seeing as he was the one who was speaking.

“He was human,” Sar kept going. “She tried, in vain, and with much obsession, to bear his child. Wee babe after wee babe after wee babe perished in her womb or the moment it left or within days or weeks of mewling pain after it was born. It drove her mad. It drove her human male mad. It drove Cystiennien mad.”

As it would.

Yikes!

“Years passed and her human grew old and frail. But she saw no gray or wrinkles. She saw only the handsome, virile man he once was. And when it was his time to leave the earth, she went to Cystiennien and wept and pled and tore at her hair in demand that he give permission, as it had always been solely his wont to do, that she could sing the Lament, again and again and again, to make her human stay with her for eternity. Cystiennien was not mad with love and grief. He knew this was no existence for this male. To be kept in a state of aging, then decaying, so Maitheiliel would not lose her love. So he forbid it.”

All righty then.

Things about the Fae were coming clear.

Things about Maitheiliel were becoming clearer.

Being forced to live while your body decayed just so your lover didn’t have to let go?

I mean, fixate much?

“And when this male died, Maitheiliel lost what little was left of her sanity. For centuries, her sorrow manifested itself on her people. She was once greatly loved, but she grew greatly feared. It was she who made the faerie when she forbid all Fae from moving about the earth in our true forms so that humans could not fall in love with us and we were not of a size and stature to share relations with them. She forbid the Lament for any and all purposes. But that was not all she did. She rained great terror on her people in a wrath that was fueled by the depths of her mourning. Eventually, her grief waned, and she was no longer feared, but with what she had done, she was reviled, and finally, simply tolerated. And her sorrow came again with the realization that she lost the love of her people. But she did not remind them why she once held their love. Instead, she became bitter, and as such, they continued to withhold their regard from her.”

He took a long breath.

And kept going.

“Cystiennien has love and regard from the Fae. But, once the strongest ruler in any realm, he is now considered weak, for his love of his wife allowed her these sulks and rages at the expense of their people. Of course, the love you have for the one who owns your heart is the most important love of all. But he did her no favors not getting her in hand. And his people suffered for it.”

This was all very fascinating.

But I wasn’t all that sure why he was telling this tale.

“You do not follow bitter or weak leaders,” he stated. “At least, you do not do it for long, for if you do, you become a bitter and weak people. And Fae are not bitter, nor are we weak.”

Okay.

Well.

That would explain why he was telling us this tale.

“If The Mathilda did not free Bellabeccabec and the sentence was carried out, there would have been a great revolt,” Sar informed us. “There are many who had been whispering of it for centuries. Whispers that changed, after The Mathilda came to be known as walking the earth, and then the Battle of The Tor happened. Whispers of hope that our time had come that we did not have to debase ourselves and become diminutive creatures looked on as endearing or feeble by races that are physically and magically our inferiors. Shackle ourselves and our urges and not do as we wished with our bodies and our time.”

He stood straight(er) and kept going.

“I am most proud to have played a part in freeing Bellabeccabec and serving alongside The Mathilda. Bellabeccabec is known and revered in the Realm as the Fae who knew her own will and took charge of it. What she did is considered very brave and is also looked upon as the end to all of our suffering under the tyranny of our leaders. And as such, I will not return to my Realm with her or on my own until the King and Queen rescind the sentence levied on Bellabeccabec and remove the strictures that were enforced at the whim and madness of only one of our race.”

Sar looked to Dad.

“It is heartening how deeply you respect the Realm and its leaders. However, in doing so, you inadvertently go against the will of its people.”

Well, there you go then.

“We are Guardians of the Realm,” Trae spoke up. “We are not Guardians of the Arbitrary Rule of Cystiennien and Maithieliel.”

I fought smiling.

Burn.

“And if the beautiful, desirable Mathilda wishes to go find a sacred lamb,” Trae kept talking, “Sarionion and I will accompany her to her destination.”

“And if her Protectors do not agree with her course of action, we will act as her Protectors.” (Sar)

“And her lovers.” (Trae)

“Yes, and her lovers.” (Sar)

“Fucking hell.” (Ash)

“And if it is inclement or the journey is long, we will keep her warm with our lovemaking and entertained with endless stories of the fascinating history of the Fae.” (Trae)

“And we will battle any demon to the death who bars The Mathilda’s path to the sacred lamb.” (Sar)

“Uh, boys.” (Me) “I said go on the lam not go find a lamb. On the lam means, like, run and hide and keep doing it so no one will find you.”

“Although it offends my very nature to consider running and hiding, if it is your wish to do so, we will accompany you doing that as well.” (Trae)

“And we will keep you warm and fed and pleasured while we do it.” (Sar)

“Mathilda.” (Ash, growly)

“As you know, I already have a boyfriend.” (Me)

“We do know this, but we would greatly enjoy if you bestowed the honor on us to share with you the way of the Fae where you could have as many boyfriends as you wish and not limit yourself to the odd human number of only one at a time.” (Trae)

“Hmm.” (Me)

Chuckling. (Aidan)

Wordless growling. (Ash)

“My lifespan is one speck of yours.” (Me) “So during it, finding one true love is our way.”

“Indeed, your lifespan is one speck of ours.” (Sar) “So we cannot comprehend why you would not experience as much as you can while you have it.”

“Hmm.” (Me)

“Sweetheart.” (Ash, sinisterly)

“Why don’t we table this discussion while I go back to Prunella and share this turn of events and see what we face next.” (Dad butting in)

“Good idea, my love.” (Mom)

 

So that was how it was decided that BecBec was staying with me.

Though, you’ll note, in all that, she didn’t say a thing.

Sar’s Faerie Tale got me to thinking.

So the next morning, I was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room of the Cottage, staring at what was left of the Post-it notes on the walls.

I did this a long time.

People came.

People went.

“What’s she doing?” I heard Su whisper.

“Figuring it out,” I heard Josie answer.

“You want a brownie?” I heard Rory not whisper.

(Rory was the only one I answered, and obviously the answer was yes.)

Eventually, my concentration was broken when Mack drifted down in front of me and sat, cross-legged too, our knees touching.

He stared in my eyes and said, “You need a sweat.”

Uh.

No.

Do as you wish with your life, time and body, but I was one of those gals who never needed to sweat.

Before I could share this with Mack, he said, “You need purification. You need to reach out to your grandmothers. You need guidance. I know some Lakota. I’ll see if they will allow you to join a sweat.”

“Oh, you mean a sweat,” I said.

He smiled. “A sweat.”

“I think appropriating someone’s culture is the last thing I should do. In fact, I think something like that might be the problem.”

“It is not appropriation if it’s by invitation.”

“That’s sweet. But what I mean is, not even Aidan, who’s the foremost specialist in Fae, knew how the elves thought about their monarchs. I got mad at some white dude senator because he was sharing what was important to him, and I didn’t care. So I wasn’t willing to listen. To wit, the problem is, no one is listening.”

“White dude senators aren’t willing to listen either.”

“That’s their sin. It won’t be mine.”

His brown eyes twinkled with wisdom and merriment. “Maybe you’re right and you don’t need a sweat.”

“You’re also right. I need my grandmothers. But I’ll call to them our way.”

Dancing naked under the moon, not sweating my ass off in a lodge.

No offense.

But I didn’t want any new-agers convincing themselves of their soul’s inner depths because they danced naked under the moon without any real clue why they were doing it and the millennia of history of the ceremony around it.

“I see why you don’t make me a general,” he said.

Whoa.

He so totally got me.

“The hawk flies in your eyes and he carries the spear in his talons,” I told him something he probably already knew.

“He always did. And he will be your warrior should you call.”

Yup.

He knew it.

Windspear, indeed.

I was back in my princess fortress when Ash returned from wherever Ash was hanging out.

He stood at the foot of the bed staring down at me.

“I don’t get a good feeling about this,” he announced.

“This isn’t about brooding. I’ve had a long day. This is comfortable. It’s about resting.”

“Everyone’s been saying you’ve been sitting on the floor in the lounge for hours.”

I shrugged against my princess fortress.

“Though, someone threw away all the Post-its. That was quite a job.”

Not all of them.

The Get Donuts one was still up.

“I’ve decided against planning a war. I’ve decided you and me are going on holiday so we can learn about each other prior to you giving me a five-carat diamond engagement ring from Harry Winston. Cushion cut.”

His brows shot up.

“I’ll accept Van Cleef and Arpels.”

His mouth ticked.

“Don’t make me slum it with Tiffany’s.”

He burst out laughing.

I gawked.

Man, oh man, my man was G-O-R-E-G-O-U-S gorgeous when he laughed.

He got more gorgeous when he bent forward, and this time, invaded my princess fortress rather than breaching it.

He did this crawling up my body.

I had a mini-o watching the show.

He settled his lower half on me, his weight in his forearm beside me, and the fingers of his other hand around the side of my neck, his thumb stroking my throat.

“Where are we going on holiday?”

“I don’t care. As long as it has a beach.”

“Why are you giving up on the war?”

“I’m not. I’ve emailed everyone’s instructions to them. They have a month to see them through, and when we get back, they can report.”

“We’re going on holiday for a month?”

“You think six weeks would be better?”

“I think a lot is happening, and as much as I’d like to be on a beach somewhere, getting to know you better for a month to six weeks, it might be more wise we do a mini-break.”

Why did the way he said “getting to know you better” a) make me shiver and b) make me think he had no interest in asking how I survived the junior high mean girls?

“I don’t know anything about anybody, Ash. I didn’t even know I was a witch sixteen months ago. How did I become the leader? And if I truly am, how am I to lead peoples I don’t know?”

“Mm.”

“I need to know what they want. I can’t just decide it’s us and them when there is no us and them. It’s just an us. It’s always been an us. We all share this planet. I get tribes and boundaries and cultures and histories and traditions. I just don’t get how all that can’t coexist.”

“It never has, Matty,” he said gently.

“Well, I’m not going down in the history books as being one of those people who forced how I wanted things on people just because I am stronger and more powerful. Fuck that.”

Now Ash’s eyes were twinkling with wisdom and merriment.

“So once I get things set up, I’m not going to sit down to peace talks. I’m just going to sit down and listen. This isn’t going to be guns, germs and steel. This also isn’t going to be peace, love and understanding. I don’t know yet what it’s going to be because I don’t know yet what it is. But once I have more knowledge, I feel light will illuminate the path that needs to be taken.”

“My witch is wise.”

“Uh, duh.”

He started laughing again.

Then he asked, “Did I get an email?”

“Yes.”

At this point, he shifted to dig out his phone, his thumb moved on it and he read aloud, “Guard the Savior of the World and have real sex with penetration of genitalia using genitalia, doing this repeatedly in order to keep her stress levels low.”

“Are you up for that challenge?”

As answer, he dipped his head and started some hanky-panky.

It was so good, I thought we might get to the penetration part (finally!), but eventually, Ash broke away and said, “I’m hungry. Let’s go find some kebabs.”

Then he tugged me from my princess fortress and off we went to Pete’s for Greek.

The next morning, my phone ringing woke us up, and upon consciousness, I decided Ash was the best mattress ever.

“Are we ignoring that?” Ash asked in a sleepy/sexy voice.

That sleepy/sexy voice?

There was only one answer.

“Yeah.”

Ash rolled so I was his mattress (hmm) and I was pretty sure I was going to get morning penetration (yay!) when a hammering came at the door that could not be ignored.

“Bloody hell,” Ash muttered.

We got up.

I put on the nightie Ash had taken off, he retied the drawstring on his pajama bottoms I’d untied, and we stomped to the door (okay, Ash didn’t stomp, he prowled, I stomped).

Ash pulled me out of the way so he could open it and I saw Agent Elizabeth Perry standing there with another woman wearing a no-nonsense, dark-colored pantsuit, button-down shirt and sensible shoes.

Great.

The Feds.

“Sir,” she said to Ash.

“Dios mio,” the other agent said, staring up at Ash with her eyes big (then staring at his chest and then six-pack with her eyes growing bigger).

Oh boy.

Bruja.

She was Hispanic, and as there was a large Mexican population in Denver, I took that leap, and I might not know a lot, but I did know brujas mexicanas had some serious magical mojo.

“We’re sorry to interrupt,” Perry stated. “But it’s been reported to us that you’re harboring three Fae fugitives.”

“We are not,” I spoke up.

She looked to me with a lot less respect than she looked at Ash.

Humph.

Obviously, my SuperWitch/Savior of the World status had still not been fully communicated to her.

“It’s against the law to lie to a federal agent,” she informed me.

I knew this.

I didn’t have a lot of time to keep up my witch-world reading (especially when Moning’s Fever series had a lot of books in it, but I digress).

Still, I’d gotten halfway (okay, a third of the way) through the Federal Witches Agency Laws and Regulations as Pertains to the Comportment of American Witches and Other Magical and Supernatural Beings.

And yeah, in that third of the way it said about five thousand times (slight exaggeration) that you didn’t lie to an agent.

“So, again, is it your contention you are not providing safe harbor to three fugitive elves?” she pressed.

“Well, yes and no, since they’re not fugitives. As far as they’re concerned, they’re free Fae who can do what they wish, but sadly feel they need to seek political asylum, which I’ve granted.”

Agent Perry blinked at me.

“Political asylum?” the other agent asked.

I looked to her. “Hi, I’m Mathilda.”

“I’m Agent Anita Ramirez.”

“Cool to meet you.”

She smiled.

Perry edged her out by shouldering closer to the door and stating, “It’s not your remit to provide asylum to anyone.”

“I disagree.”

“This needs to go through the proper channels,” Perry declared.

“Uh, Lizzie,” Ramirez said low. “Are there proper channels? I’ve never heard of this.”

Perry turned only her head to Ramirez. “There are proper channels. There are always proper channels.”

“Okeydoke,” Ramirez muttered, giving me big eyes.

Well then, this partnership didn’t seem to be working all that great.

Then again, Perry’s “Just the Facts, Ma’am” and “It Seems We Have a Failure to Communicate” shtick would get on my nerves in about three seconds.

I knew this because it did.

Perry turned back to me. “You need to go through the proper channels. While you do that, we’ll take custody of the Fae and share with the Imperial Order we’ll be holding them until this matter is sorted.”

Holding them?

BecBec had been “held” long enough, thank you very much.

Though I’d like to see her try to hold Sar and Trae.

Still…

“Uh, I think not,” I denied.

“Uh, I think so,” she retorted.

“Not.”

“So.”

“Not.”

“So.”

“Those Fae aren’t leaving Mathilda’s protection.”

Ash said this, so of course, Perry backed down.

Kind of.

“Mr. Wilding, this is a matter for the Agency.”

“Hardly. As I’m certain you’re aware, there’s a staunchly held agreement that peoples of supernatural persuasion may enter American borders and remain as long as they wish, permitted they adhere to natural and supernatural laws while they’re here. However, as Fae rarely fly over American soil, this situation is unprecedented. But regardless, in their time here, the Fae under our protection have not broken any natural or supernatural laws. With what you’re now saying, are you contending the Agency has the right to arbitrarily detain free Fae?”

Perry shifted uncomfortably.

I smirked.

Seriously, my man was hawt when he was being all logical, knowledgeable and authoritative.

“The Imperial Order have communicated—” she began.

“The Order handed down a sentence that was unjust and prejudicial,” Ash interrupted her. “At present, you don’t have many Fae flying over your soil. If you detain, or deport, the Fae under our protection, I can assure you, whatever diplomatic issues you’re dealing with in regard to the Order will pale in comparison to the reaction of a nation of angry Fae.”

Perry said nothing.

Ramirez said nothing.

Ash said something.

“It has been three millennia since humans angered Fae enough for elfin retaliation. If you don’t know of that occurrence, I suggest you look up the lore. And when you do, I feel you, and the Agency, will rethink inviting this kind of Fae attention.”

“Maybe we should look into this issue and come back,” Ramirez suggested.

“You do that,” Ash replied.

He then shut the door in their faces.

He looked down at me and he appeared annoyed.

I looked up at him and announced, “Okay, I was totally hoping for penetration of the dual genitalia variety this morning, but I’m so totally giving you a blowjob right now.”

Ash was no longer annoyed.

And twenty minutes later, he was so far from annoyed, it wasn’t funny.

Ha!

Just a note: Faerie Mounds?

Those used to be forts.

Iron Age forts.

Iron Age forts, mostly in Ireland, but there were some (as you know) in England with a few in Scotland and Wales.

Iron Age forts that humans built in exaltation to the Fae who they lived and cavorted with in great harmony for a while.

Until they didn’t (though, it was so long ago, no one knew why they didn’t).

This pissed off the Fae and then…wham!

A lot of dead humans and deserted forts that eventually were beaten down by the elements, grown over by vegetation and forgotten.

Except as what they’d been built as in the first place.

Portals to the surface for the elves.

A couple of days later, I’d had enough.

So I headed to the Turret Room where BecBec was staying.

She’d been through an ordeal.

I’d given her space.

Now, we needed to have a chat because it was time for her to get back to the land of the living.

She’d done nothing wrong.

She’d saved the life of a good man.

Things got out of hand afterward, and they might not be in hand now (as such), but at least she was safe.

It was time to start healing and move on.

I just hoped, in her true form, she didn’t talk a-mile-a-minute like she did when she was wee, because if she did, our chat would last two seconds because I wouldn’t understand a word she said.

As I made the Turret Room, I saw Trae outside it.

“Cool,” I said. “You’re guarding her. That’s sweet, but you don’t—”

“I am not guarding her,” he replied. “She has just demanded I leave her presence after I made the attempt to draw her out of her shell by offering to provide her great pleasure.”

Yeesh.

Total sex on the brain.

I slapped his biceps what I thought was playfully, doing this prior to admonishing him (gently) about offering to pleasure anybody when they clearly were in no mood.

I didn’t get to the gentle admonishment part.

I didn’t even see him move before I was against the wall, my wrist circled by his fingers held against the wall above my head, my body imprisoned by the close proximity of his.

“You struck me,” he stated, not appearing happy about this.

Mental note: do not strike an elf.

“It was playful,” I replied, also not happy about this because he was freaking me out.

Instantly, he appeared happy about this.

“I can strike playfully too,” he purred.

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.