Page 9 of Christa's Obsession

“Is that so?” He lifted a mug in offering. “Care for some of my brew? Wanda isn’t up to taking visitors just yet. She may be in a little while, if you care to wait for her?”

It was a test. Christa couldn’t say how she knew, just that something told her the troll wanted to see what she’d do. She stepped around larger twigs on the ground and perched next to Dougal on the log, who offered her a mug he conjured at her nod, of a sweet smelling brew. “Thank you.” She glanced about for a place to put the pastries and flowers, then left them on her lap when the only option was the orchard floor, only then taking the drink Dougal held.

“I’m Dougal. Nice to meetcha, Christa.” His gaze dropped to the box and flowers, his smile broad. “Something smells good inside the box. As does that pretty posy.”

“I bought these… for Wanda,” she shrugged nonchalantly and took a big gulp of the brew without thinking, due to feeling awkward—like she was meeting a parent of the girl she wanted to date—then coughed violently with an aggression that left her glad she was seated.

It’s not dating.

Be quiet,Christa hissed back, while attempting to cough up a lung in the most unladylike way.

“Put hairs on your chest, my homebrew,” Dougal chuckled playfully.

When Christa had herself back under control, she wiped at her wet eyes, careful to not to smudge her make-up before glancing in Dougal’s direction. “I’ve never been partial to hairy chests, I prefer the softer curves of a woman.”

There was a sound of a sharp inhale, and Christa’s demon fought hard to escape when they looked towards the trees. There, in a hollow, sat Wanda. Cast in the firelight, her brown curls hung beyond her shoulders and held a crown of leaves. The long flowing, peach and cream gown had a lace trim that layered the top of the dress. The gown accentuated her small, pert breasts that rose and fell so fast her chest practically fluttered like a butterfly’s wings.

Was she frightened of them?

Placing the mug down with shaking fingers, Christa clutched what she’d brought and rose to allay whatever fear Wanda might have. “I’m Christa, Dakata’s sister. I came when… you know, to help,” she finished, unsure what else to say, not wanting to make Wanda think of things that surely hurt her.

Beautiful eyes, the color of forest leaves, swept over Christa. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember seeing you. Things were a little…” Soft curls swayed around her delicate shoulders as a branch moved and stroked down her arm. “Thank you,” she finished in a soft murmur, staying where she was, more branches reaching to touch the healed, radiant skin.

“You’re welcome.” Realizing she was clutching the box and flowers, she took a step closer, compelled to be nearer andnot only because her demon wanted it. There was something alluring—commanding—about Wanda’s presence. “I brought you a gift… some flowers.”

Wanda was beautiful before she smiled, but Christa lost all rational ability at the soft curve of lips into a surprised smile. “You did?”

Aware Dougal was watching, Christa resisted the urge to demand he leave them. Instead, she walked to the tree and offered the box and the posy of daisies. “Yes.”

The brush of tiny fingers catching Christa’s as Wanda took the gifts shook Christa to her very core. She never noticed the branch reach into her coat pocket, placing several leaves in there. All her senses honed on the dryad, whose eyes widened.

“What was that?” Wanda whispered, breathlessly.

“Our blissful bond,” Christa murmured without thought or hesitation, because all her doubts disappeared in that one moment. Their connection snapped in the scented air, fizzling with life so boldly everything else became meaningless.

The fear that came from Wanda stole Christa’s joy when it doused the air with its stench. Christa could taste its bitter flavor in her mouth as she inhaled.

“No. No. No.I don’t want it.”

The words, said so full of terror, left Christa and her demon side crushed. Yet what Wanda needed most of all, was for Christa not to deny her.

“As you wish,” she murmured past a ball of emotion. Working on pure instinct to protect Wanda, she ignored her own desires and how the action of leaving tugged at her soul painfully, she translocated.

In her home in the demon realm, Christa screamed until her throat was raw. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. The merest of touches sealed her fate and she could not regret it, even when her soul became tortured with the belief their blissful one didn’t want them.

They had been rejected.

She shuddered, collapsing to her knees and clutching the hand that smelled of Wanda to her chest, lost in misery. “What are we to do now?” she cried out in agony. “What?”

Chapter Five

Wanda

Wanda couldn’t fight her fear as the woman—demon—claimed they were her ‘blissful one’. On some level—on every level—she had sensed that something bound her to the beautiful demonwho had sat next to Dougal. Her trees had encouraged her to emerge, revealing herself at the soft lyrical voice that had danced over the branches surrounding her.

How could this be?

Why would Fate choose a demon for her? Why?

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