by Shona Husk
With a yellow nail he flicked a red-backed spider away. His gray fingers were more like spider legs than a man’s hand. It was a body he hated, yet he expected Eliza to overlook the disfigurement. She wanted a real man, not a part-time, damned man. He couldn’t live up to her expectation. He’d been set up to fail before they first met.
And he would fail her a hundred times over and still not be able to walk away and let her be. And she would call him back. And he would come, caught by the promise that maybe if the stars aligned, or fell from the sky, the curse would break.
He drew his sword. The blade was still and black in the dark. Untarnished by time, or stained by use, it had been at his side for most of the curse. No doubt it would go on without him. Slashing, cutting, biting into flesh. Never his. A bullet was faster, surer. He wanted the end to be clean.
His fingers traced the length of the blade. She would be chatting to Dai. He would be telling tall tales of ancient tombs and hidden treasure, making them come alive in the dust to entertain. But she would sigh and wonder where he was and when she could come home. Eliza was right. Keeping her in the Shadowlands would ruin her real life. This was where Eliza deserved to live. Her home. Her world.
The idea of leaving her with Steve, her fiancé, turned his stomach worse than the stink of death after battle. As men they both had one thing in common.
Eliza.
Steve feared losing Eliza, too vain to realize that he’d lost her a long time ago. She was too scared of him to leave because of a few pieces of paper he kept hidden. Steve’s fears had revealed the usual obsessions of a man concerned only with appearance. His fear of being exposed as a fraud, of being laughed at. Losing Eliza was down the list.
The man was a fool.
Roan lifted the sword and rolled his wrist. The motion was fluid, pure muscle memory with no thought. With a nick, not even a full cut, he could free Eliza from whatever web Steve had built. Her wish was simple.
Be free of Steve.
Roan closed his eyes and kissed the blade. Cold against his lips. Cold in his heart. Colder in the grave. No goblin could resist a fight. He left the spiders to their repairs and went to confront his rival.
Chapter 13
Her stomach lurched, but her feet sunk into carpet. She opened her eyes and fell to her knees. She was home. Relief, regret, and loss burst in her chest like an overfilled water balloon. Her throat ached. She didn’t want to be here in the silent house. Eliza titled her head. The sensor winked red with every movement, but no alarm was triggered.
She’d set the alarm.
Only she and Steve knew the code.
For three heartbeats she didn’t move. Steve was back for round two. Her cell phone was upstairs in the guest room. The nearest landline was in the kitchen. She listened for anything—a door, a footstep, a breath. The silence buzzed, swamping the pulse of her blood in her ears.
She took a tentative step, then paused, expecting Steve to appear with every heartbeat. There was no noise in response. Braver, Eliza walked to the kitchen. Dawn colored the house in shades of gray. But the shadows were distant and unhelpful. If Roan didn’t want to see her, she wouldn’t call. She could deal with Steve and tell him it was over. His threats no longer held any power.
She’d believed Steve when he told her the blame would fall on her, too scared of him to do anything. But he was just as scared of her and what she would do. His fraud wasn’t as thorough as he’d let on. The glimmer of hope that if the papers were found she could be free was all she needed to press forward.
Eliza lifted the slim handset and slid the phone into her pocket. Then she began the long march upstairs. The only door open was the guest room. She moved along the wall and peeked around the door.
Slumped in the chair was Steve. His head rested against his chest. No breath moved his body. Dread crawled down her back, tugging on her skin with its cold-clawed feet.
Oh no.
Steve was dead. Roan had taken her desire to be free of Steve to the extreme and killed him. Her goblin lover had acted in a way no human would.
Why, Roan? The question remained on her lips, unspoken. Because Roan wanted her, needed her, but would never say it. He would do whatever she asked as long as he could hide behind being goblin.
Steve twitched. Eliza jumped back and gulped a breath of air. He lifted his head, saw her, and backed into the chair as if he was seeing a ghost.
He was alive. She released the breath and smiled. Roan hadn’t killed for her. If he’d been here, she would’ve hugged him regardless of what he looked like. Goblin was only the color of his skin. But Steve…she looked at him with eyes that had seen beyond this world. Steve was nothing but a pink-skinned goblin hoarding gold.
“Are you all right, Steve?” His usually immaculate suit was crumpled. The tail of his too-tight tie flopped over his jacket shoulder. One shoe was missing.
His hand crept around the back of his head. He checked his fingers as if expecting blood. But his hands were clean. He looked up at her, a frown clouded his eyes. Then he shook his head as if dislodging a bad dream.
Once she would have run to his side offering assistance. Now she watched. An injured snake was still a snake.
“What happened to you?”
Steve opened his mouth—no words came out. He tried again. “I was waiting for you.”
He touched the back of his head again, confused. “I need an aspirin. Where have you been?”
Eliza crossed her arms. “Out. Thinking.”
“You left this behind.” From his pocket he pulled out her square cut engagement ring. It had been ugly the day he’d given it to her and it was ugly now.
Roan had created a ring filled with the flowers he could never give her in the Shadowlands. A ring she would love. She twisted her hand to hide her new ring from Steve. No sense in annoying him. A wounded snake was more likely to bite and Steve had more venom than a cobra.
She shrugged. “I took it off to shower.”
“It was on the floor.” He flicked the ring between his finger and thumb. Steve walked toward her, his gait uneven from the missing shoe. He lacked the grace of being born a warrior and the sureness of being king.
“Must have got caught in my clothes.” She kept her gaze steady.
Hidden by her arms, her hands fisted. He was going to try to put it back on her finger. She didn’t want the ring or Steve touching her skin again. She didn’t offer her hand, and he didn’t demand.
The smooth lawyer mask he wore broke, and she saw through the cracks to the man she had once loved. She had admired his determination, his desire to reach the top, ruthless, fearless, passionate. Their life hadn’t always been a tightrope walk of hate and blackmail.
He closed his hand over the ring and put it in his pocket. “You win. Keep your house, your trust fund.” Steve retrieved his shoe from the side of the bed. He tied it up. “I hope it makes you happy while you sleep alone.”
Eliza raised her eyebrows. “You’re leaving?” Without a fight?
What had happened in her absence? She cast her gaze over Steve’s rumpled appearance. Had Roan visited Steve’s dreams?
Steve loosened his tie so it no longer strangled the collar of his shirt, then he tucked the tail into his jacket. One button was missing. Puzzlement furrowed his forehead, but he let it pass and re-schooled his face. The mask fell back into place. “I’m breaking the engagement. You’re not worth the grief.”
“What’s the catch? There’s always a price with you. A penalty. What do you want in exchange for my freedom?”
Steve would’ve faded to goblin in a heartbeat if he thought it was in his best interest; letting her go would only serve him. Unless it was a trick designed to suck her back into trusting him and handing over control. Never again would she fall under his spell.
“Your silence. I think that works in both our interests.” He did his best to smooth down his suit.
Eliza nodded. He’d agreed to end their private relationship, but she had one more request.
“I want your resignation.” If she was cutting out cancer, she was going to use a heavy hand to ensure it never grew back and invaded her life. Better to lose the limb.
Steve remained quiet, but she could hear the well-oiled wheels spin. Lubed with money and lies, there was no squeak as the gears changed.
“Fine. I’ll even move out of state.”
Too easy. “I don’t believe you.”
Steve shrugged and glanced away. “You never wanted to be a society wife. You played the daughter for your father. But you were never convincing. I want more than a good copy.”
Eliza forced a smile. Even now he was trying to save face as if it were her fault they were breaking up. “Good-bye, Steve.”
But she knew this was just the beginning. She had to find the papers before he left the state, otherwise they would be gone forever and it would be much harder to face the police knowing she had nothing to back up her claims…and if they failed to find anything pointing to Steve’s guilt it would be a risk she would pay for behind bars.
He placed his hand on the door. “I have contacts. If you breathe a word to anyone, I’ll know. And then no one will be able to save you.” Steve walked out of the room.
His footsteps faded down the hallway. Then there was nothing until the front door closed.
Eliza sat on the bed. The covers were dragged to one side and a pillow lay on the floor. She hadn’t left it like that. What had Steve done? Did she care anymore? She rubbed her hand over her face. She needed a shower. Breakfast. And a plan.
***
Steven unlocked his office. He hand wrote a resignation letter to Gunn, the only surviving partner of Gunn and Coulter. Eliza had been part owner in name only. He folded the letter, placed it in an envelope, and then stopped.
He touched the lump on the back of his head. He’d fallen asleep while waiting for Eliza to come home and had woken up with a sore head and a vague memory of a nightmare that had threatened to behead him. Steven shook off the feeling that there was something he should remember. He must have hit his head against the wall.
In precise handwriting he addressed the envelope and placed it on the receptionist’s desk. Eliza wouldn’t be back at work for another month. She hadn’t asked for the honeymoon tickets. He allowed himself a smug smile. He’d keep them. He deserved the trip to Europe. She could deal with the wedding cancellation. He nodded as he unlocked his filing cabinet. Cutting himself free of Eliza was already feeling good. He thumbed the files. All but one would stay with the firm. Toward the back, labeled like every other file, was Chiverney. Hidden in plain sight. Like every client there was paperwork and invoices for hours billed. He left all of them. All he wanted was one yellow envelope.
Steven flicked open his briefcase and placed the document envelope inside. Fragments of the dream flitted past, too fast for him to catch. He shrugged them off but couldn’t dispel the unease they left in their wake. There was no harm in being cautious. He opened the envelope. Full of paper. He flicked the edges of a couple of sheets. Now he was getting paranoid.
His eyes narrowed. Gravity threw his stomach sideways like a fairground ride designed to make people sick. The papers were blank. He poured everything out. Fresh, white paper spewed over his desk and floor.
“No!” he roared.
He rummaged through the papers looking for anything with writing. Every sheet was blank. While he’d dreamed of something hideous threatening his life, Eliza had been in his office. He’d been passively waiting for her to come home while she was out stealing from him.
“Bitch.” He raked his fingers through his hair.
He’d agreed to leave her alone, to quit the firm, to move, to fake devastation over a last-minute breakup.
And all along she had played him. Eliza hadn’t even finished her law degree, and she’d outmaneuvered him. He laughed. All this time he’d thought her too weak and too stupid to be a threat. Now Eliza had the documents that placed the fraud at his feet. All she’d ever done was the paperwork to set up the company, the same paperwork she’d done a thousand other times as his legal secretary.
He picked up the phone. He wasn’t going away without a fight.
***
The water ran clear in the shower without the need for magic. Rivulets spilled over Eliza’s skin, drawing Roan’s eyes in a hundred different places at once. The curve of her back. The dimple above her butt. The gold handprint that water wouldn’t remove. Down the back of her thigh to the crease of her knee. The calf that had wrapped over his hips. He knew he should leave. Daylight filled the bedroom. No shadows would hide him. He eased his camo around the tightening in his groin.
Eliza’s head lifted, white bubbles crowned her hair. Roan pulled back so he was out of view, but he could see her in the mirror. She faced the door as if she sensed he was there. She waited a moment, listening. Roan stayed motionless, cursing the beads that announced his presence. If she turned and looked in the mirror, she would see him.
She tipped her head under the water. Her breasts lifted as she massaged her scalp rinsing her hair. The soapy streams circled her tight nipples the way his tongue had. He wanted to be in the shower with her. His hands washing her. Drinking the water perfumed by her skin. Roan fisted his hands and forced himself to gaze at his reflection.
Not in this body.
He sighed…not in this lifetime.
This wasn’t a pleasure visit. He looked at the large yellow envelope in his hand. Steve had been more than helpful when faced with a sword-wielding demon invading his dreams and turning them into terror-filled nightmares. He’d begged for his life as he’d babbled the answer to every question Roan had asked, and some he hadn’t. These were the documents Eliza needed to be free of that man. Roan smiled. He was getting soft as he got older. It would have been so easy to sever Eliza’s bond to Steve with a flick of the sword. But she wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want him killing for her. So he’d let the man live even after he knew what he’d done and how he’d trapped Eliza.
Eliza had traded the greedy bastard for goblin.
With these papers he could cut the ties that bound her to Steve. But was he doing it for her, or for himself because he didn’t want to share?
Roan took one last look at the pale, pink perfection that was Eliza. Her eyes closed, and her face in the water. A faint smile on the lips that had kissed him. He wanted to be the man she wanted—that he used to be. The mouth of the goblin in the mirror turned down in an expression that was supposed to be sadness but looked more like a fierce grimace.
He placed the envelope on the floor at his feet. Then he took one dreadlock and worked off an amber bead. He should strip the dread of all its beads for the number of times he’d served Eliza.
The bead screamed in his hand, begging to be put back. He placed the bead on top of the envelope. Only amber. Drops of the sunlight he missed. He threw a longing glance at the patch of sunlight by the window. The warmth beckoned, and his skin itched as if the sun was summoning him into its presence. Like a good goblin, he obeyed. Through his boots and clothes, the weak morning sun touched his skin. Slicing like a razor. The burn went bone deep, yet there would be no mark on his skin. Goblins were never meant to see the sun. He closed his eyes, knowing that he could stand here all day and the heat would never penetrate his heart.
“Roan?” Eliza squinted into the light. Water dripped from her hair, onto her shoulders, down her collarbone, only to be soaked up by the pale green bath towel that covered her body.
He stood trapped by the sunlight, the core of his bones boiling. The only shadow to escape into was his, stretching toward Eliza. If a goblin entered his own shadow it was said he would never emerge. Or so Roan had been warned by a man more weathered than the cave he’d inhabited. Today wasn’t the day he was going to test the old god-speaker’s word. To his left, the curtain made a weak shadow, but it was enough.
Her foot touched the envelope. She glanced down. It was all the time he needed. His beads chimed
as he moved from sun to shadow, and then he was gone. What Eliza did with his gift was up to her. Maybe tonight while she slept she would think of him. If she did, he knew he would go to her. This time he didn’t care where they met as long as they were together. If she didn’t call…he would know the true heart of his queen.
Eliza looked up in time to lose Roan to the dark. Water splashed onto paper. She stepped back and picked up the amber bead, not quite a match to the one on her bangle. The carving was different, the color deeper. A yellow document envelope covered in soggy dots lay on the floor. Steve’s handwriting neatly labeled it as belonging to Chiverney Holdings. One of the many companies that used Gunn and Coulter.
A shiver chased over her bare flesh. Chiverney was different. Chiverney must be the company Steve was using to hide the fraud.
Without opening the envelope she knew what it contained. She felt the thickness and the weight of paper inside. The weight of freedom. These were the documents she had spent so long searching for. Always so careful to never raise suspicion. And now she had them.
Her hands shook. She wanted rip open the envelope, to rifle through every page and find out how much, and when and where every dollar had gone. But she couldn’t touch the papers. Her fingerprints couldn’t be on the documents.
She hugged the envelope. With a shaky breath she whispered, “Thank you.”
Roan had visited Steve. That was why Steve had been disheveled and willing to leave. What had Roan said to him? Had Steve looked the goblin in the eye and seen what he would become? No, probably not. And she didn’t care. Roan had discovered the location of the documents and retrieved them for her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the most precious gift she’d ever been given. More valuable than gold, these papers proved Steve’s guilt and bought her freedom. Roan had granted her wish.
Her home phone rang, but she ignored it. Her cell phone rang, so she checked the number. Steve was calling from the office. She let voice mail take the call—and the abuse. He knew she had the documents. There was no time for contemplating what to do or how to do it. She had to make the call she’d both dreamed of and dreaded making.