My legs rest on his back as he continues to hold up my body, only my upper back and head rest on the cushion. Norrell slowly pulls his fingers from me with an embarrassingly wet squelch. I watch as he sucks them clean while still staring raptly at my pussy.
“That was incredible,” I breathe. “I don’t think I can move.”
“There is no need. I will hold you,” he replies, distracted.
“But we still haven’t exchange Yule gifts,” I exclaim with an incredulous chuckle, my hands covering my face.
He hums in contentment, nibbling absently at my inner thigh while his eyes are still glued between my legs. “I do not need anything else.”
“No, it seems you don’t. But I want to give it to you anyway.” I giggle.
“In a minute,” he replies. His breath is hot on my pussy as he breathes me in.
Watching him while he’s entranced by me, his eyes finally dart to mine about a minute later. He presses a firm, final kiss to my inner thigh and lowers me down gently. I smooth down my dress but don’t even bother with my panties. Norrell stands to pull up and button his pants over his still swollen cock. The fabric barely contains the bulge.
He bends down and reaches for the two boxes left under the tree and sets them in front of us on the coffee table. When he joins me on the sofa again, I hand him the gift I wrapped for him earlier this week. After tearing through the wrapping paper with a blunt claw, he slowly opens the small box. His expression gentles when he sees the thick leather bracelet intricately woven with clear quartz beads to create a pattern. It’s a surprisingly masculine piece of jewelry. I knew it would suit him when I saw it and ordered one with the quartz he likes.
“Thank you. This is an amazing gift, Ada. I will never take it off,” he says sincerely. “Help me fasten it.” He offers me hiswrist. I secure the leather bracelet, making sure I can still slide a couple fingers underneath, so it doesn’t rub against his skin.
Norrell hands me my gift, flat and rectangular in shape. I’m puzzled as to what it could be. I slowly unwrap it and then open the box. Inside is an old, slightly tattered leather-bound notebook. When I open it to the first page, I gasp in a sharp breath. It’s my dad’s handwriting. My jaw drops as I stare at it in wonder. I’m truly speechless.
Norrell explains, “When I spoke with Esmeralda Jurado last month, it made me wonder if your father had any academic submissions in the library. I texted her a few days later asking if she could do a quick search for me during the years he spent there for his apprenticeship. She found several typed, formal documents he had filed with them. But then she happened to come across this journal in the language studies section. Something he later probably typed up and submitted elsewhere.”
My mouth flops open and closed. No sound comes out. Norrell takes pity on me again. “Esmeralda told me he went to some far-flung places to immerse himself in rare Whispered Folk languages during his apprenticeship. While he was there, he kept academic field journals with observations about his experiences. This was from one of his trips. Dean Jurado scanned it, so they have a replacement copy but shipped the original to me for you to keep.”
A sob tears from my throat. “This is unbelievable, Norrell. I can’t believe this still exists and you found it. That it’s in my hands. I had no idea it was there,” I babble, nearly inconsolable, throwing myself into his arms. “Thank you.”
“My ember, I am glad it is finally where it belongs,” he murmurs while his soothing hands sweep up and down my trembling back.
Chapter 18
Norrell
My ringing phone wakes me up in the dead of night. Luckily it does not stir Ada, who is still asleep next to me in her bed. She sleeps longer and deeper to fight off the fae’s spell as it steals her life. It is no surprise she slept through the noise. Creeping out of the room after silencing my phone, I quietly answer the call from the unfamiliar number in the hallway as I walk downstairs.
“Hello?” My voice is still groggy.
“Norrell, this is Tallan Frostweaver,” says a frayed voice on the other end of the line.
“Tallan? Why are you calling me at this hour?” He’s an elder in my clan, having held a seat on the council for many years.
“I have not slept in over a month. Night or day means nothing to me anymore. I thought if I come clean to you finally, mayhap that will change. Or at least unburden my conscience when I find myself in an early grave,” Tallan rambles. He is a calm presence on the council. One of the few in its current form. Whatever is going on is already concerning.
“Tell me what you want to say,” I instruct him coolly.
“When your brother Elgar asked for our help the first time, we stayed silent. Played dumb. All agreed we would not getinvolved. We did so again when the true picture of your mate’s suffering became clear,” he claims.
“Are you saying the council of elders is outright refusing to help me?” I try to clarify.
“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying. Harlok, your uncle, kept secrets from you. Made all of us keep secrets from you for years. Secret histories and relics that you should have been made privy to as our Huntmaster. He claimed you did not deserve that knowledge when you so reluctantly took on the role. That the next Huntmaster would be a leader who would finally deserve them. And in the meantime, we would keep this information quiet,” he explains.
A deep, thundering headache forms behind my eyes. I ignore it for now and try to focus. “Which of these secrets would help my mate, Tallan?” I ask directly, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
“The relics. The two the witch pulled from the fae’s mind. The two that the Seer foretold,” he reveals solemnly.
“Wehave the relics?” I roar, not caring whether I blow out the eardrum of this addled old male. “And you kept this from me for a month? Fire of the frost! You helped this disgusting fae, an enemy to our kind, genuinely suck the life out of my mate for an entire month longer than necessary while you wrestled with your morals? You should be ashamed, Tallan! All of you! She will die without them!”
“I do not want her to die, Norrell. We already took her from you once. I could not let the fae succeed in doing so again,” he mumbles in a small voice, sounding deeply ashamed.
