“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were being protected by good fairies, Ansel.”
“Seeing as how fate seemed to have led me to you, I wouldn’t argue against that.”
Ansel moved a little, biting back a groan. Heat had at first been simmering in his belly, and it’d now spread to the rest of his body, most especially his lower parts. He moved his hands to cup Cedric’s face with them.
“Then it’s best to stop talking about my favorite little group of trees, Cedric Hill, and get on with business before they change their minds and retract their blessing.”
It was all nonsense, and Ansel knew it, but one couldn’t help but sputter nonsense when deeply in love and in the middle of being seduced. Besides, that spot where he knew Pryor House still stood seemed to have heard the two young men—yes, at eighteen and nineteen, they were both young men now—and had obligingly manifested its awareness of their presence in physical ways. A faint, soft haze had formed around them, lightly muting the colors of their surroundings and adding to the magical quality of the area. Birds could be heard from different directions and a variety of distances, but there was also a feeling of a strange bubble that separated the rest of the world from them. He could imagine the bright colors of the trees, flowers, and grass to mimic the gem-like prisms of Pryor House’s windows.
He also kept his poetry and music with him—his only physical reminders of his stay in Pryor House, and he’d yet to share them with anyone. Not that he’d wanted to, even with Cedric. They were too private, too intimate an expression of his heart, and there were a few things about himself he wished to protect still. At least until he felt sure enough of the world. He continued to live with certain scars from his childhood, but he also knew time would help blunt the memories even if he could never forget them. Was he being unfair in this? Hopefully not, but at eighteen, he still had a long road ahead, and life was never constant.
When Ansel pulled Cedric down for more kisses, his joy surged, his gratitude riding the waves, and he knew somewhere, somehow, Miss Peveler was nodding her approval with that familiar half-smile and raised chin. Waiting, waiting, forever in the shadows for that next unhappy stray to be brought to her darkly magical door.
THE END
ABOUT HAYDEN THORNE
I’ve lived most of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area though I wasn’t born there (or, indeed, the USA). I’m married with no kids and three cats, am a cycling nut, and my day job involves artwork, crazy coworkers who specialize in all kinds of media, and the occasional strange customer requests involving papier mache fish with sparkly scales.
I’m a writer of young adult fiction, specializing in contemporary fantasy, historical fantasy, and historical fiction genres. My books range from a superhero fantasy series to reworked folktales to Victorian ghost fiction.
My themes are coming-of-age, with very little focus on romance (most of the time) and more on individual growth and some adventure thrown in. More information can be found online at haydenthorne.com.
ABOUT QUEERTEEN PRESS
Queerteen Press is the young adult imprint of JMS Books LLC, a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance. Visit queerteen-press.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
Ansel of Pryor House Page 13
