The kiss leaves me reeling. Never before have I experienced such chemistry. I loved Jason, but even with him, the spark was nothing like Nikolai. Jason and I got to know each other gradually until one day he asked me out. And when he first kissed me, it felt like it was a long time coming. There were none of the instant fireworks I felt with Nikolai.

So I agree to stay. For two more weeks. And Ashley, after contacting her parents back home, agrees to stay too, even though I tell her to leave. She still wants to see the country.

But for a week after the kiss, I don't see Nikolai. Not once. He doesn't come. Doesn't contact me. And I start to doubt everything he's said. I doubt that I'm special among all the women he has at his disposal. And I doubt that he really wants to discuss the problems in North Molvania.

So, I decide that maybe I can learn more about him by researching what he believes.

I return to the library where the oil painting now hangs. Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure that's the stolen one, and I'm going to confront Nikolai about it next time I see him. I would just Google it, but I have a feeling that the North Molvanian Google wouldn't return any hits.

Instead of going online, I peruse the rows and rows of dusty books on the shelf. Some are old and leather-bound, and some are newer paperbacks. But all of them say "printed in North Molvania." I scan the shelves for familiar titles. There are only a few. Only fairy tales and classics like Shakespeare. I have a feeling that even they've been censored and redacted.

I finally get to the history section, and one book catches my eye. It's a red leather-bound tome entitled "History of the United States of America." I pick it up and flip to the middle of the book.

"In the United States of America," the book says, "Blood flows freely in the streets. Gang warfare and rampant poverty are everywhere. Shelves are bare. Children are sacrificed daily in capitalist witch rituals. The capital city of Washington, DC now sees an average of 780 murders per day."

What the hell? I flip through the book. Every page is packed full of misinformation and lies.

I put it down and find another book about the United States. I pull it out with a finger, and blow the dust off the pages with a puff. I open it. It's more of the same. More lies, controversy, and antagonizing.

I slam the book closed and chuck it in a trashcan sitting next to the computer desk.

A library is supposed to be a place of sacred knowledge, where you go to find the truth. But here in North Molvania, there's no such thing as truth.

I'm starting to get an idea of just how closed off this country really is. It's even worse than I thought.

Early the next morning, before the sun is up, I'm awakened by the sound of metal clanging in my room.

I open my eyes groggily, and for a moment, I can't believe them.

It's Nikolai standing in the doorway of my room, and he's holding a cage full of doves.

"Hey," I say sleepily, and his eyes swivel to me, surprised. He didn't think I'd wake up. "Have you been putting those in here?"

"Yes." He pauses. "I have."

I'm pissed at him for blowing me off all week, but I kind of can't help smiling at this. "But why?" I ask, getting out of bed and walking toward him.

"It is an old Molvanian custom."

I flip on the light switch, and a dim, soothing light illuminates the room. I stick my finger through the wire cage that Nikolai holds, and one of the white doves pecks at my finger.

"What does the custom mean?"

"It is a way to honor great beauty."

That's sweet. Maybe a little creepy, but sweet nonetheless.

"Why haven't you come to see me?"

"I did not think you wanted to see me."

"But I agreed to stay." I place a hand on his forearm and look into his eyes, holding my breath.

For a moment, I think we're going to kiss again. But the moment passes, and we don't.

"Go back to sleep," he says. He lets the doves out of the cage, then he turns and leaves the room.

That same afternoon, Nikolai comes to find me. I'm in my room, hunting through the two wardrobes, holding clothes up to my body and imagining myself wearing them. For being such an oppressed society, the Molvanian people sure have an amazing culture. Molvanian dresses are like a mix of the Japanese kimono with flowing Arab robes. An incredible combination.

He enters without knocking, which annoys me. Every time he shows a sign of reasonableness, he follows it up with the complete opposite.

"Really? You don't even knock when entering a woman's room?"

He flashes an annoyingly handsome smile at me, his strong, flat chin and high cheekbones standing out strongly against the dark contours of his rich, sandy skin. "My bedroom," he reminds me. "I'd love to see you in that," he says, looking at the robe in my hands.

I chuck it back into the wardrobe, suddenly self-conscious. "When I have a guest over, I give them privacy."

"My palace, my rules."

"Isn't there any give and take around here?"

He looks at me like I'm some inanimate porcelain figurine in a glass display case, studying me. Then he bursts out laughing.

He shakes his head, chuckling. "Never before have I heard such a thing."

"I bet."

"But that is neither here nor there," he says. "I have come to take you on an outing. Recreation."

"What kind of recreation?" I ask. Hunting? Polo? I wonder what Nikolai does in his spare time. I wonder if he's going to make me watch him shoot innocent animals with a crossbow.

So I'm surprised when he says, "A cheetah cub was recently born at the royal menagerie. I haven't yet seen it and I'd like you to accompany me."

"Ah," I say, "A cheetah. Let me guess, stolen just like the oil painting in the library?"

He gazes at me, a look of amazement on his face. "You are a connoisseur of art?"

"No," I say. "Just a reporter. It was a big story when that thing went missing."

"My little pet," he says, "I did not steal the painting. I purchased it. I paid the money."

"But you knew it was stolen."

He raises his eyebrows and scoffs. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that North Molvania's cheetahs were a gift from the late monarch of Mali. One-hundred percent legitimate."

"Fine," I say, "Let's go pet some cats."

The cheetah cub can't be more than a couple weeks old, but it's already bouncing around and playing, full of energy. It's so cute with its golden fur and tiny black spots.

Nikolai stands next to me outside the cheetah enclosure, leaning his elbows against the railing and watching the cub play.

"Zookeeper!" he belts out, and a guy wearing a tan jacket and a safari hat comes rushing around the corner.

"Bring us meat to feed the cats."

"Yes, my prince," says the man, bowing. He rushes back around the corner, and returns a minute later with a silver bucket. He sets it down. It's full of bloody, torn meat scraps.

"Gross," I say to Nikolai." I'm not touching that."

He laughs. "Don't be silly." He bends down, and I see his strong calves and triceps in motion, the muscles and tendons in his body chording perfectly. As much as I hate to admit it, he's like art in action when he moves. And he's much more interesting to look at than his stolen oil painting.

When he stands up, he's holding a bundle of bloody, stringy meat in his hands.

"Eww," I squeal. "Getting your hands dirty, huh? Guess you're used to that."

His eyes narrow, displeased. He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he tosses the meat over the fence. The baby doesn't immediately pounce, but the momma cat does. She takes a piece in her mouth, and then deposits it next to the baby, nosing it and encouraging it to eat.

"Let us discuss this," says Nikolai. "You have made many wild accusations. Frankly, I ought to throw you in the dungeon for your indiscretions."

"Of course," I say. "That's all you know how to do. Punish and kill."

He whirls around to face me. "Bollocks," he says, and I wonder how that word got into his vocabulary. "I put no one to death who does not deserve it."

"You're lying to me. Then explain the work camps."

"These 'work camps' you speak of," he says, drawing quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "Are where we send irredeemable criminals." Then he adds, "And not even 'we.' Him. My father. As I told you before, they are outside my discretion."

"That's a cop-out. You're turning a blind eye. They're brutal prisons where people go to be tortured and die. Not just criminals, either. Political prisoners."

"I told you, I cannot be held accountable," he says, but he avoids eye contact.

Inside the cage, the baby is tearing apart the meat scraps. Getting its first taste of blood. And it likes it.

"Have you seen how your people are living? First-hand?"

"As the Crown Prince of the country, my domain is the capital city, Caprion. I grow tired of reminding you—"

I cut him off. "Stop evading the issue," I say, frustrated. "You have a duty to your people. Don't say you're waiting until you're King. You can do something now."

He is silent for a long time before he replies. "Very well," he says, "I will investigate your claims."

"Investigate?"

"I will go see for myself, as you suggest."

"And then?"

"And then… we will see."

That's not the answer I was looking for, but I think it's as good as I'm going to get for now. I watch the cheetahs, not speaking.

"Jenna," he says, turning his body toward me. "Do you truly think so poorly of me?"

A month ago, my answer would have been yes. But the more I get to know him, the more I feel like there's a good man under there somewhere. I feel like he might come around.

And if I can get through to him, this might be the most important thing I've ever done. Even more important than breaking some huge news story.

"No," I say. "I don't. But I think you need to open your eyes."

"My little pet," he says, moving closer, "You are the only one who dares to challenge me like this. I will take seriously what you say. I promise."

I look into his eyes, and everything else seems to get hazy.

"You will?" I feel like I'm falling into him. And for the first time, I feel like maybe that could be… okay.

So when he leans forward to kiss me, I kiss him back. Much harder and deeper than I did the last time.

His scent fills my nostrils, and it's not the scent of an evil man.

When our lips finally part, I'm holding his shoulders with my hands, standing on my tiptoes to meet his lips. I feel excitement coursing through me.

"My little pet," he says. "Can I interest you in an afternoon nap?"

Well… this just got interesting.

We lie together in a hammock on the castle roof. It's an enclosed greenhouse, a self-contained biological ecosystem. The air inside is cool and damp, and the hammock sways gently, suspended between two strong oak trees. Vines and flowers wrap around the tree trunks, and all around us, nature blooms. I've never seen anything like this before.

I've also never felt anything like what I feel now, as I lay my head against Nikolai's chest in the hammock. I run my hands up and down his abs through his button-down shirt, and strong tingles of sexual possibility run through my body. He has an arm around me. It feels surprisingly good. I haven't taken an innocent nap together with a boy since college. Well... maybe it wasn't so innocent then, and it's not so innocent now. But damn, does it feel good.

He twists his head, pressing his lips against mine. His lips are smooth, full, and soft, a perfect shade of light pink that complements his dark complexion so well. He has a rough five o'clock shadow, and the sun never seems to set on it.

I can see the outline of his cock through his pants, and I can see that he's hard. Part of me wants to reach out, grab it, and submit myself to the untold pleasures that he can give me. I'm wet between my legs, and my nipples are hard under my shirt. It's like I'm naked in a snowstorm, even though the climate inside this greenhouse is warm and tropical.

But I'm not sure. I still have reservations. I'm not sure that he has my best interests at heart, and I'm still angry that he won't go confront the King right now about what's happening in his country. But I've always been good at seeing through people's BS, and my gut tells me that he's going to change his tune when he sees things with his own eyes.

I guess I have to take things at their own pace.

"Jenna," he says, "tell me more about yourself."

That's a vague request. I don't know how to answer it. "What do you want to know? More about America?"

"No. I grow tired of that line of conversation. You said you were engaged. Tell me what happened."

I almost tell him to shove it, but then I remember that his fiancée passed away too. Maybe on this issue we will understand one another.

"Well, I met him in college. And we thought we were going to get married and spend our lives together. But one day he went out to get a bag of cheeseburgers, and he didn't come back. His car was t-boned by a drunk driver."

Nikolai doesn't respond right away. "It saddens me to hear that. My condolences."

"It took a long time to get over it," I admit.

"I too thought I had met the partner of my dreams."

"And what happened?"

"Executed by a terrorist from the south. They used her as a pawn in their game against me." A look of sadness comes over his face. "I was young and naive then, and I failed to protect her. Never again," he says, "will I make that mistake."

"Damn. That's messed up."

"Yes. It was, as you say, ‘messed up.' But, my little pet, that is neither here nor there. Thank you for sharing your story with me."

"Of course," I say, "I hope it helps you." I actually mean that when I say it. I genuinely feel bad for him, and I understand what he's going through. Well, sort of. Not the terrorist part.

He turns his head to face me as we lay in the hammock, and he runs his fingers through my hair. His fingers feel strong and thick, and I wonder how much pleasure they would provide. They feel pretty good just on the back of my head.

"I want you," he says.

I want him too, but I resist. "How do I know I'm not just a replacement for your fiancée?"

"You are nothing like her. She was beautiful as well, but obedient, not wild as you are. I have thousands of women at my beck and call who would be delighted to be her replacement."

"You really want me?" I ask.

"Yes. Very much so."

Damn. I can't say no anymore. Can't deny my body what it wants.

I lean in, and I kiss him deeply.

He kisses me back with a ferocity that I've never felt before. He's like an animal, like the cheetahs in the royal menagerie. Just raw power and desire, his body eclipsing mine in the hammock. He straddles me, and I feel his thick, hard cock pressing against my thigh as he plants kisses down my cheek and neck. God, it's ridiculous how badly I'm aching for him.

He grabs the lapels of my shirt and tears it open like paper, the buttons flying off with a series of popping sounds. He kisses my chest, the rough stubble on his face scratching my soft, pale skin. He brings his hands up my body, running them over my legs, my tummy, and finally my breasts. He cups my breasts through my bra and I feel myself flush with excitement.

I want him so badly to rip my bra off my body just like he did with my shirt. I want him to see everything I have to offer him. I want to give him pleasure. And I want to receive it from him.

He doesn't make me wait. He continues to straddle me, his cock hardening even more, its full length pressing against my thighs and belly. God, he must be nine or ten inches. I'm terrified and excited at the same time. It's been way too long since I've gotten laid, and I've never had something this big inside me. I'm hungry to feel it. I want to know how it feels pressing deep inside me, stretching me out for him.

He runs his fingers under the cups of my bra, and his fingertips brush against my hard nipples. His touch sends a surge of pleasure through my skin, all the way down between my legs. Every time I wiggle underneath him, I can feel my slick folds rubbing against each other, getting looser, getting ready to take him inside me. It's almost as if my body knows how badly I need him inside me.

"Jenna," he whispers to me, "You are the most perfect creature I have ever seen."

I grin, running my hands along his abs through his shirt, feeling the deep ridges. "You're not bad yourself. Now take this off." I tug on his shirt.

He pulls it over his head and throws it onto the ground below the hammock. He's muscled and defined, every contour exactly as it should be, not an ounce of fat on his body.

He grabs the cups of my bra again, then with a quick pull, snaps the elastic fabric completely, uncovering my breasts. His eyes roam over my chest, and I see the lust in his eyes. I know he wants me, but I think I want him even worse.

"Touch me," I beg. I need it so bad.

He leans his head down and places his lips against my right nipple, gently circling it with the tip of his tongue, sucking. I moan, running my fingers through his thick hair, pulling his head in closer to my body.

"Little pet," he says, "I am going to tear you apart."

"Do it," I say heavily. I'm almost out of breath and we haven't even started.

"Tell me how bad you need it."

"I wanna feel your cock all the way inside me," I say. "The whole thing. Please."

"Please, my prince."

Under any other circumstance, I'd laugh him right out the door. But I don't care right now. I'll say anything to get him inside me.

"Fuck me, my prince," I say. "Please. I need it."

He grunts with approval, running his hands over my breasts and tummy, tugging, pulling, squeezing, exploring every inch of my body.

I reach down to his belt, unbuttoning his pants. I slip a hand behind the elastic waistband, and for the first time, I feel the bare skin of his cock against my fingertips. The head is big and thick, and I can hardly imagine how it's going to fit inside me, much less his entire length.

He reaches down and pulls his pants off, revealing the full length of his manhood. God, it's glorious. I wrap my fingers around it, gliding them up and down lightly, feeling his cock twitch in my hands.

"Spit on your hands."

I lick my palm until it's glossy with my spit, and put it back on his cock. He jerks back, closing his eyes and moaning softly.

"Does that feel good?" I ask him, jerking his cock up and down.

"So good," he says, reaching down to my pants. He slides them down to my knees, and I don't even bother kicking them off.

He pushes my hands away from his cock, pinning them down above my head. He shifts himself, and I suddenly feel his erect cock pressing against my tight, wet entrance through the black lace fabric of my panties.

"Oh god," I moan. "I need it inside me."

He puts two fingers over the black lace, pressing them hard against my clit. Pleasure surges through my legs, my body flooding with excitement.

"Stop fucking around, and fuck me," I say.

That's all the encouragement he needs. He slides my panties to the side with his fingers, exposing my wet, swollen slit to him. He pushes the huge head of his cock against my opening, my wetness and my saliva lubricating our skin.

He slides his cock in slowly. I cry out as it stretches me wider than anything I've ever had before. But I feel my muscles loosening up, my body adapting, eager to have this man inside me.

His cock keeps sliding in, further and further, and just when I'm afraid it won't be able to go any further, I feel his hips against my ass. He's all the way inside me, and I've managed to take the whole thing.

Oh my god. I can't believe it all fit inside me, but I'm glad it did, because it feels absolutely amazing.

"Fuck, darling," he says, "I've never felt anything this tight before."

He thrusts in and out of me, building his pace, and I feel pleasure surging inside of me. God, I need a release after being cooped up in this palace for so long.

"Do you like it?" I say, wanting to hear his encouragement. I wrap my hands around his shoulders, and I feel his muscles contract as he fucks me, his entire body working to fill me.

"God, there's nothing I love more. Fuck, I'm getting close."

"Oh, me too," I moan.

"Squeeze for me, baby," he says. "Squeeze tight."

I squeeze my muscles as tight as I can, and it intensifies the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of me.

"Like that?"

"Oh fuck," he says, "Exactly like that."

He penetrates me deeper and harder with every thrust, and I feel my own orgasm surging up inside me.

“Oh god,” I cry out. "I'm gonna cum!"

My orgasm sends him over the edge. As I start to cum, he squeezes his eyes closed and I feel streams and streams of his warm seed shooting up inside me, deeper than ever before. I've never fucked unprotected before, and the sensation of his warm cum filling me up is absolutely intoxicating. It's like a drug, and when the spurts get weaker, I feel disappointed, wanting them to continue until his cum is pouring out of me, dripping everywhere.

God, he fucks me so good.

Breathing hard, he rolls off of me and pulls me close to him. The sun is starting to set outside. I sigh, resting my head against his chest.

"Hey," I say, "what if we finish up this nap and then get something really good to eat later?"

He grins at me. "Now you're living like royalty."

A few days later, I'm hanging out with Ashley in her room while Nikolai attends a Caprion city council meeting. She and I borrowed English translations of classic North Molvanian novels from the palace library. We're reading together, chatting and passing the time.

I don't tell her what happened between Nikolai and I, although I think she's onto me. She's hung out a couple times with a handsome young guard who does night duty at the palace, and I also suspect she's not telling me the truth about him.

We're laying on her bed with our feet kicked up in the air when there's a harsh knock at the door. I've gotten accustomed to rude interruptions at this palace, but something about the intensity of the knock just doesn't seem right to me.

"I'll get it," says Ashley. She hops off the bed.

When she opens the door, it's my favorite person, Gaius. Today he's wearing a jet black suit. He looks like he belongs at a funeral.

"Can I help you?" says Ashley. I can tell she doesn't like him either. He's probably been on her nerves this entire time, too.

"Orders. Straight from the King."

I feel a nervous knot forming in my stomach. I don't know if Ashley has had an opportunity to meet the wonderful King Alexandr, but I know that any orders from him can't be good.

"Deportation," says Gaius, and the word rings in my ear.

They're sending us home? Now? After all this?

I think back to what Nikolai said, about him being in charge of the capital city while the King handles the rest of the country. Since we're in Caprion now, surely this decision isn't the King's. I hop off the bed and join Ashley at the door.

"Listen," I say, "The prince invited me to stay here. So that goes for Ashley, too." It's a weak argument, but it's all I've got.

Gaius laughs cruelly. "You misunderstand, little girl. The King has final authority. This decision is not Nikolai's to make."

"I want to hear it from him," I demand. I wish Nikolai were here instead of at the city council meeting, so he could set this asshole straight.

"Your wishes are irrelevant," says Gaius. "Orders are orders. Count yourselves lucky that you're not meeting a worse fate. Pack your bags and be in your respective rooms by four o'clock this afternoon."

He leaves without another word.

Ashley's hand is still on the doorknob, but I grab the edge of the door and slam it closed.

"Well," she says, "That's disappointing. But it's probably a good thing we're finally heading home. This place seems unpredictable."

"Yeah." I fear that my voice betrays my doubt. Of course, I can't spill the beans to Ashley. Oh sorry, home doesn't sound so good after all, because I'm fucking the prince.

But the truth is, I'm torn. First, because I thought I actually had a chance to make a difference for the people of this country.

Second… well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see Nikolai again.

That afternoon together in the hammock… I'm very eager to try that again.

But there's nothing I can do about it. Maybe he could do something if he were here. But I have no friends, no allies in this palace. No one to pull strings and get a message to him.

Oh well. At the very least I'll get a story out of this. That is, if I still have a job when I get back. Honestly, I'm terrified of what the American media is saying right now. Our faces are probably plastered all over the cable news networks and the Internet. The real Internet, that is.

I return to my room reluctantly and pack my shit. I go to one of the wooden wardrobes and swipe a traditional Molvanian dress, which I also stuff in my suitcase.

I'm sure nobody will notice it missing.

And if they do, they can afford to replace it.

At four o'clock sharp, a contingent of guards comes to my room. They're not screwing around this time. It's not just Gaius in his starched suit, it's a squad of guys with gigantic black assault rifles. They mean business.

I don't see Ashley, but I'm assured she's being treated well and will be put on the same plane.

As we step out of the main palace entrance, I see a van waiting to pick me up, the same kind that brought me in. It feels strangely sad to be departing this place now. It was almost starting to feel like home… almost.

That thought worries me. Maybe I've developed Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe that's the reason I was attracted to Nikolai.

I assure myself that this is all for the best, and I honestly am excited about the stories I'll be able to break at EDGE. Nobody else from the West has had the experiences I have. Although, the part about the hammock isn't getting within a hundred foot radius of any story I write.

I expect the van to take us toward the border so they can channel me back into Transylvania through the underground tunnel. But instead, the van takes me to a small airport on the outskirts of Caprion. It's about a 20-minute ride. There's a lightweight Cessna aircraft waiting for me there, and I can see Ashley climbing up the staircase to board the plane.

That's a relief. At least we're both getting out of here.

The van pulls up near the plane, and I board the aircraft, joining Ashley. It's a regular old plane, not a princely one. I'm surprised how accustomed to luxury I've become during my time here.

One of the guards tells me what's going to happen. We're going to be flown out of the country, through cooperative airspace, until we reach Iraq. From Baghdad, we'll take a commercial flight back to the United States.

I have no doubt there will be plenty of federal agents waiting to meet us the instant we disembark the plane.

I look at Ashley, and neither one of us speaks. For better or for worse, our adventure has come to an end.

So long to Nikolai, I think. I wonder if I'll ever find another man like him.