The Goblin King (18 page)

“Wooden training sword…thrown by my sister.” Where a smile should have lit his eyes and turned his lips there was only emptiness. Ancient history had preserved the pain of loss.

Eliza kissed the long healed scar. Her tongue flicked over its length. Then she reached for his lips, her mouth touching his. Roan’s hands ran up her back and tangled in her hair. His fingers dug deeper until he cradled the back of her head. Her lips parted and she tasted the man who craved her more than water. Her body tingled as if drawing current out of the air.

This was wrong to be in his arms, to be here, yet it felt so right. The sharp edge of temptation had never sung so sweetly. She’d always been the good daughter, the good girlfriend. Being with Roan was pure magic. Magic that pulled on her soul, warm and thick and rich.

Eliza leaned into him, seeking to melt against his skin. She ran her hands over his shirt, searching for the fastenings. Roan ripped off the belt that held his weapons. The curtain that had swung over the entrance to his chamber became an iron-bound door that shut with a bang, and a reminder that she wasn’t with a normal man.

Her tongue wet her lip. The show of power was sexy—in a dangerous way. The way people loved to watch tigers, as long as they were behind bars. And she was alone with the hungry, hungry king of the Shadowlands. He pulled off his shirt. The green candlelight softened the hard planes of muscle but did nothing to hide the wealth of scars. Some were a small nick of a blade and nothing more. One must have been life threatening. The knotted mass was strung from collarbone to mid-chest.

She placed her hand over the puckered line that crossed his heart.

“Rome tried to take my heart before the druid succeeded.” He lifted her hand, kissing her palm then her wrist, working his way back to her throat.

Breath slipped from her body the way a soul might depart its flesh, slowly but with longing. Her hands tried to absorb the texture of his supple skin made firm by the muscle beneath. So different, so much more life trapped inside. Roan was nothing like Steve. He lifted the edge of her T-shirt. Her nipples tightened, waiting for him to skim his hands over her breasts as he lifted the shirt. Instead he undressed her without touching her. Her top was removed by the magic that curled around them. The zipper on her jeans tracked down without a hand to help as if he was peeling a forbidden fruit with all the grace and decorum he could manage.

Roan’s hand caressed her waist and eased her jeans over her hips. She stepped out, her hands on his shoulder. He kissed her inner knee over the thin white scar that had required stitches.

“My brother let go and I fell out of the tree house.” The one scar she’d gained at seven wasn’t in the same league as Roan’s.

He nodded, beads creating background music. His hands ran up her legs until his fingers danced over her panties. He paused to kiss the top of her left breast. Her heart raced beneath his mouth. With a single flick he unclasped her bra. She instinctively tried to cover herself.

“Too late for second thoughts.” Roan gently moved her hand away.

“Dim the lights.” The candles burned too bright. There was nowhere to hide.

“No. I want to see you.” His gaze rested on her. Heat flushed her skin pink like sunburn. “And I want to be seen.” He slid the bra-straps down her arms.

She waited for a comment.
False advertising
. Her bra enhanced her assets by an extra cup size. She’d refused plastic surgery. If Roan noticed, he said nothing. His calloused palm closed over her breast. Her back arched as he brushed his thumb over her nipple. Braver, she snaked her hand around his neck, her fingers brushing against the gold torque, and drew him into a kiss. His beads were like rain on her skin, bouncing cold against her flesh before taking on her warmth.

He nipped at her lip, and she responded in kind. Her stomach tightened, caught between excitement and fear. There was something in the way he handled her, with care, with desire, but also a firm intent. He knew what he was doing. Roan pulled her to him and lifted her, his forearm under her bottom. Hip to hip. The length of his shaft pressed against her belly. Her breath hiccupped, but her body responded to the unspoken demand, shifting against him. He groaned and broke the kiss.

Without the all-consuming attention, her doubts bubbled to the surface.

“Will I become…” She let the word hang unspoken. She didn’t want to be goblin.

Roan pulled her to the bed. The crimson sheets turned down by thought alone. “None of the other women did.”

Eliza pulled her hand back. Roan didn’t let go.

“What other women? Other queens?”

She resisted the tug on her hand, her toes curling on the rock. Roan held her gaze.

“Centuries ago, when we could still part with our gold, women would come and…” He paused as if searching for a suitable word. “Entertain.”

“Whores.” She wrapped one arm over her breasts. Being cursed, being goblin, was one thing, but using hookers was another. She wanted a free hand to wipe her mouth.

“Yes. Whores. Did you think I’d been celibate since the curse choked out my life?” He pulled with enough force to send her stumbling into his arms and onto his lap. He twisted, laying her on the bed.

Eliza gasped at the ceiling. “Why didn’t you take one of them as your queen?”

“They came for the gold. Back then I didn’t want or need a queen.” Roan loomed over her, confusion raising his eyebrows together. “I want you. You called me. Different from every other summoner.” His lips touched her throat. He trailed kisses to her heart. “You keep me human.”

“There are no vows to become queen?”

“No. I brought you here. You are mine. That is enough.”

Her resistance melted under the heat of his mouth. His tongue flicked over her nipple, then drew the peak into his mouth. She flinched trying not to respond, but the fire was already lit in her belly. Her nerves pulled tight, waiting for the touch that would release them. She put her hands on his chest.

“How do I know you didn’t catch a disease from one of them?”

His laugh vibrated through her chest. He lifted his head. “I tried to catch the bubonic plague—twice—hoping to die. But then I’m not technically alive. My heart doesn’t beat. I exist outside of time.”

Yet four swords hung on the wall, one had faded, one had died by bullet. “How did the others die?”

“A goblin can only be killed in battle.” Roan traced an elaborate pattern over her skin. “You’ve asked about everything but children.” He pressed one nipple.

“I can’t. I have an implant. I never wanted kids with…” She was cheating. Or had they broken up, and she hadn’t gotten around to telling Steve? Her finger was naked, and she wanted to be with Roan.

“But you can have children?” His hand slid along her side and flicked the edge of her panties, making light of the weighty question.

There was no slap against her skin. They were simply gone. His knee dropped between her thighs.

She nodded. Two thousand years and Roan still wanted to be a father. No goblin would be so unselfish. She’d seen the sacrifices made by Amanda for Brigit. “The implant can be removed.”

Eliza squirmed into the bed as his fingers found her clit and circled. She bit her lip, not used to anyone else touching her so intimately. Sex had always been about Steve and what he was getting. Her eyes closed as her insides became liquid under Roan’s sure hand.

“Open your eyes.” Roan rolled onto his back, dragging her onto him. His black camo appeared on the floor with the rest of the clothing.

Eliza sat up, her knees dropping to the side as she straddled him. One hand held her hip and rocked, so she slid over the length of hardened flesh. His shaft caressed her most delicate folds. The ache built, blocking out all other doubts and questions.

Roan watched every move but waited only for one. She knew this had to be her doing. Her choice or he would keep her here untouched. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and smoothed over the already slick head. His hips bucked, pressing deeper into her fist. A darkness rose in her blood. The cold taste of power was like ice on her tongue. Roan needed her. Without her he would fade. In the Fixed Realm she was nothing.

Here she was queen.

But she hesitated and in that moment the power dissipated. She wanted Roan, but not like this. Not like she was claiming him. Their eyes locked and she knew he was giving her the choice, even though it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her surrender.

She lay back on the bed. Roan followed, his body flowing with hers in one smooth motion, perfectly in synch. A glimmer of a smile curved his lips. The ends of his dreads tickled her skin. His beads whispered a hundred promises, a hundred secrets in a hundred languages. They only needed one.

His tongue skimmed her lip, teasing until she opened her mouth. The head of his shaft pressed against her sex. She lifted her hips and moaned as he entered. Each thrust a little deeper until he was fully seated within her core. With just the slightest move, he began with a slow irresistible rhythm. Her skin was fevered as if she’d sat too long in the sun, basking under the endless blue heat of his eyes.

The air around them thickened. She lifted her legs to wrap them around his hips. The edge was so close, she wanted to fall and take Roan with her. With that wish, every tight nerve snapped and sent her spiraling through the dream until she landed back in the bed. The crimson sheets scrunched around them. Roan lay over her. No beat echoed the racing of her heart. His fingers tapped the rhythm of her slowing pulse. His eyes were closed. He was locked in his own world of broken hopes and bitter dreams. She tasted the edges but didn’t know what to say.

The curse held. She’d failed to save him.

Roan looked at her. Pain and regret were chained together in his eyes. They stole the desire that had razed her senses. He vanished without a sound.

Warmth seeped from her skin, but she lay still half expecting him to return. He should be here with her, lying close with her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat for the first time in nearly two millennia. After several small breaths Eliza realized he wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t bear to look at her. She drew the sheet around her body and curled up. Numbness crawled through her muscles until even breathing was a burden.

The walls groaned in sympathy.

Steve would be waiting for her to return. How many days had she been gone already? Even as she asked the question she didn’t care what the answer was. Let him be accused of her murder. Her other life was over. She was here now, with Roan. They would find a way to break the curse.

The caves screamed as they tore themselves apart. Anger reverberated through the rock demanding an end. Eliza sat up. Only one man could be tearing up his world. But if he kept on drawing on the dark magic, he would become one with the Shadowlands.

Roan would become Hoard.

Chapter 10

It should have worked.

Tonight, while the solstice closed the gap between dreams and waking, out of all nights it should have worked. Roan held out his hands and rock splintered off the walls leaving furrows as if they’d been attacked by a giant cat or a demon. No wall was safe as magic ripped through him. Nothing was safe from the absolute desolation that cradled the gold where his heart should’ve now been beating.

Eliza had been willing. She knew the truth of his being. She had seen his face in the Fixed Realm and still wanted him. Him, not gold or jewels like the concubines who’d performed with too much enthusiasm, too much finesse, and too little emotion.

He fisted his hand and the tunnel collapsed behind him. He stalked on, no longer caring where he walked. It didn’t matter. He would die here, trapped beneath a mountain of rock of his own making. He ground out a breath and cursed. First in Decangli, then in every language he knew. The words fell effortlessly off his tongue. He cursed the Romans, the druid, and finally himself for thinking that such a simple act would free him. That he could have used Eliza and brought her here with the sole intent of freeing himself. When all she had ever done was have the misfortune of having him answer her summons.

With a twist of his wrist Roan tore a slab of rock out of the wall. Gold coins spilled at his feet. He’d walked the maze of tunnels and ended up here. Like any goblin he’d sought comfort from the one thing he knew. Gold. Tons of empty, lifeless, shiny gold. Gold would never judge him or make demands.

In his bed waited a woman and he didn’t know what to do with her. He couldn’t take her back to the Fixed Realm. She was already too deeply embedded in his skin. She was his queen until the end. Losing her would take too much from him. Keeping his lover would cut too deep. Seeing the broken dream in Eliza’s eyes was unfaceable. He picked up a coin and threw it across the room. It ricocheted off the wall and rolled back to his feet offering him another chance.

Roan picked up a handful of gold coins and threw them into the air.

***

Eliza traced the claw marks in the wall. The tormented swipe of an animal lashing out, searching for freedom. A man with nothing to lose. Each new piece of demolition was another wound that wouldn’t heal. She climbed over piles of rock that almost blocked the tunnels with only one thought in her mind—she had to reach him before he faded. Finding Roan was as easy as following the debris left by his destruction. But would she like what she saw when she found him? The warning rose in her thoughts.