The Goblin King

by Shona Husk

  Eliza lifted her head, her body tense as if the noise were preventing her from falling asleep. “What’s happening?”

  “The Hoard is attacking. I had to seal the caves.”

  “They’re trying to get in?” She peered over his shoulder as if expecting goblins to appear.

  “Elryion must have told them we have gold.” Roan started on her other arm. Defensive wounds. Her stomach and face were untouched.

  She flinched and dropped her gaze to watch his hands move over her damaged flesh.

  He paused, torn between causing her more pain and getting the job done to stop the blood flow. “Does it hurt?”

  “No. It’s just cold.” She began to shake again. She was going into shock.

  “Look at me, not at the blood, Eliza.” He pushed some magic into her the way a doctor might give drugs.

  She lifted her chin, color returning to her cheeks. “You shouldn’t be using magic on me.”

  “Who else am I going to use it on?” He tried to smile to reassure her, but every cell that multiplied and closed the gash pushed him closer to the edge of oblivion. This time the edge was lit by one small white star that burned in the dark. He’d never seen it or felt it before, but he took the star as another sign he was losing the battle to hold onto his soul.

  “Thank you.”

  The small cuts he left un-magicked. Roan lifted the skimpy top, ready to trace over the cuts on her back. Her heartbeat echoed in his chest, and her breath was warm against his neck. For a moment, all he did was hold her. If he closed his eyes and ignored the cloying smell of blood, he could pretend nothing stood between them. He gently smoothed his hand over her damaged skin.

  “Let’s clean the blood off and see what I’ve missed.” Once he would have washed with magic. Now he was becoming almost human, having to wash with water and save what soul he had left. All things he’d once taken for granted he now measured and weighed. Compared to an extra day with Eliza most tasks were better completed by hand than with magic. The cost was too high.

  He took her hand and led her down the tunnel. The white and gold bathroom, stolen from a five-star hotel, plumbing and all, still made him smile. It didn’t belong here. And neither did he, but they were both stuck here for eternity. Another expensive, beautiful object ripped out of the Fixed Realm on a whim and a dare. Most of his treasures had been lost to the world long before he’d touched them. His castle was a living museum of the forgotten.

  The air in the bathroom remained cool, but the water went from black to clear at his touch, then warmed. Some things required no effort, and no discernible drawing of magic—moving between realms, purifying water. There was enough of the Shadowlands now within him that the magic flowed, within reason. Building caves or healing meant drawing magic out of the Shadowlands and that had a price. But he hadn’t learned that until much, much too late.

  Roan drew his hand out of the water. “You can get in.”

  Her tongue flicked over her lip. She glanced at the shower. “Will it stay like that?”

  He nodded, beads jumping. “No games this time.”

  Cautiously she stuck her hand under the showerhead and let the water pour over it. She stepped into the shower still dressed in her bloodstained butterfly pajamas. The water turned pink as her arms washed clean. She ran her hand over the tight new skin. The eyes can lie, but touch was real.

  Her lips parted as she inspected the fresh scars. “You win. You still have more.”

  A smile quirked his lips. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  She pulled her arms out of the water. “Can you make it warmer?”

  Roan turned the tap, a smile teased his lips. Only a little game.

  “Oh. I didn’t think that would work.” She adjusted the tap.

  The water wet her top, plastering it to her skin. The swell of her breast cupped by the damp cotton. With a thought the water cooled. Her nipples tightened and she jumped back. The dare of stealing the bathroom was paying off.

  “They’re both cold.” Roan grinned. He needed the cold shower. Seeing her naked earlier in the morning and watching her clothed now was more painful than picking a day to die.

  Eliza slapped a handful of water at him. “Cheat.”

  Roan placed his hand under the reheated water. “It’s fine now.”

  “Prove it. You get in.” She crossed her arms under her bust, lifting them and giving the illusion of showgirl cleavage. “Do more than watch this time.”

  “You knew I was there?”

  “I always know when you are there.” She laid her hand on his arm.

  His skin tightened with pleasure, instead of the pain of being forced to appear. She knew that a goblin had stood in the shadows tracking the flow of water over her skin. She’d turned to face him, to tempt him, to tease him. And he’d been unable to move, unable to touch, because his goblin hands could never love Eliza.

  Roan ripped his vest off. He’d dressed for war, not rescue. His weapons belt fell on the floor. The goblins were attacking. The druid needed killing. Eliza wanted loving. The wishes of his queen always came first. He couldn’t waste magic on pulling off clothing. His fingers didn’t move fast enough, unused to crude necessity. He didn’t take his gaze off Eliza. The gold flecks in her eyes became molten as she watched him.

  He knelt to unlace his boots. She curled her fingers around the edge of her singlet top and pulled it over her head. There was no chance of breaking the curse, and no risk of damning consequences. Nothing existed between them but the simple lust that thrived between a woman and a man. The lump of metal in his chest turned, as if uncomfortable with this new development.

  For the first time in centuries Roan pretended he was just a man. He stepped out of his boots and camo, hard, aching for her touch. A need that burned hotter and deeper than gold, but one that could still ruin him all the same. Only a woman could destroy a man where wealth and power had failed.

  She slid the pajama pants over her hips, but she never got a chance to step out of them. Roan closed the glass shower door behind him. The water beat down on his back as he knelt at her feet. His hands skimmed the back of her legs, drawing her hips closer. She tugged one foot free of her pants, and he lifted that leg over his shoulder, so her sex was spread before him. Her fingers wound through the dreadlocks that inhabited his head. Beneath his hands, her muscles tightened in expectation. He couldn’t remember the name of the last woman he’d tasted.

  His tongue danced across the lips of her sex. Sweet like dew. Roan glanced up. Her teeth were pressed tight together. The pressure on his scalp increased. He took a slow taste, savoring the way she squirmed in his hands. His lips closed over the hard bud, his sucking stopped her breath. Her nails carved crescents into his skin. The more she hurt him, the more pleasure he gave her. His tongue thrust into her core. Her legs trembled, tiny moans escaping her lips. Her body went rigid in his hands and the feel of her climaxing around him traveled all the way to his cock.

  Roan stood, slipping her leg from his shoulder to the crook of his arm. He lifted her against the glass and entered her. She arched, her hips thrust forward to take more. Hot and wet, she encased him. Her eyes closed, but she knew what he needed. Eliza used his dreads against him, pulled him close until their lips met with the taste of her still on his tongue.

  When he wasn’t quick enough to obey she took the kiss. And he let her, giving in to her desire. Being a slave to Eliza was more rewarding than being her king. Her tongue slid past his lips, soft as velvet. He pulled her hips down harder. She bit his lip.

  “Yes.” Her hand cupped his face, foreheads touching.

  Her sheath rippled around his cock and the sensations tickled his balls. She ground her hips against him, her breathing so rough it almost ceased to exist. He held her there tight as he came, unable to resist any longer.

  The caves shuddered and grumbled around them like they were in the belly of a starving beast. Roan closed his eyes and held Eliza close. Her heart drummed, echoing the water. Hi
s thumbs circled, pressing into her muscle. The shower washed away his short-lived joy. He couldn’t hold onto Eliza. Sorrow leaned a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  That may have been the last time.

  He eased her leg down, resenting every move that put distance between them. Water ran down the edges of her face, his fingertips brushed her cheek. No tears fell, but her eyes were bright. His burned. Roan leaned into the water to lose himself with Eliza again.

  “You don’t know what you do to me.” His lips tasted the water scented by her skin. If he could stop time, he would. They would be locked away from the world forever in a dream of their own making.

  “I know what you do to me.” The smile on her lips was as innocent as a butterfly and as pink as a new day challenging a night washed clean by the rain.

  The beast groaned an ugly cry of metal on stone. Roan growled and pulled away. The Hoard couldn’t just give up and go home. He touched the rock wall. Fissures were opening under the onslaught. The caves wouldn’t protect them forever.

  “They haven’t breached the rock, yet.” He turned off the taps because leaving them on was an invitation to dally.

  She took the offered towel and dabbed at her arms before wrapping up in the thick white fabric. “What if the druid helps them?”

  “Unlikely, he will be well away from the fight.” Roan squeezed the heavy tails of his hair, but they remained waterlogged. “Elryion will pay for what he did to you.”

  “Don’t go after him if it will cost you your soul.”

  “Today, tonight, tomorrow, it’s gone anyway.” He dried himself roughly then slung the towel over the shower. “If I kill him, I could break the curse.” He jerked on his pants. His wet dreads slapped against his skin. Getting dressed instead of using magic was annoying.

  “But if you fail…” She placed a hand on his forearm.

  He buckled on his belt, throwing off her touch. “Then I’d rather be dead.”

  His words ripped through the afterglow. They glared at each other. Neither could win the argument. Both were right. Eliza’s mouth opened as if to protest, but her eyes were dark with something other than lust. He wasn’t good with what happened afterward unless it involved payment. His anger melted under her gaze. She deserved better than a king with a death wish.

  Roan softened his voice. “If I’m gone, he’ll leave you alone.”

  “I’d rather sleep in constant fear and still have you.”

  “You say that now, but once I’ve faded only the vaguest shell will remain.” His fingers lengthened and grayed. Images of Eliza taking him as a goblin roiled in his mind. He swallowed hard, but the poison had taken hold. “You don’t want these hands on your body.”

  Eliza grabbed his hand, placed it against her face. “I don’t care what you look like.”

  Roan resisted the urge to pull his hand away. Her skin burned his palm like a brand. Temptation after temptation, he was falling for each one she offered. But not this one.

  “I do. I want a soul. I want a heart that beats.” His hand returned to man-shape. “I want more than hiding in the shadows waiting for your summons.”

  Eliza looked at her feet. “I know. And I understand, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “I never said I did.” He lifted her chin and kissed her mouth again. How many kisses could he steal in the time that remained? “Come, rest for a few hours. Elryion can’t harm you here.”

  “And the Hoard?”

  “It should take them a while longer to break in. We made plans for this occasion.”

  “You planned to be attacked?”

  “I have to protect what is mine.” The Hoard would never claim what was his. But at the same time he couldn’t fight them face-to-face without giving in to the curse and fading. Even now the urge to run outside wielding his sword was pumping in his blood. He and Dai had set up old-fashioned-style defense. The kind castles had used to repel would-be invaders. They’d found a use for the river—it was a ready supply of burning oil.

  They walked back to his cavern in silence. He stopped at the door.

  “You’re not coming in.”

  If he did, he wouldn’t leave and he had to assist Dai and make sure he didn’t fade and attack the Hoard. But Eliza didn’t need to know the details of the battle they would lose. It was only a matter of time until the Hoard won. Time he didn’t have.

  “I have work to do. Subjects clamoring at my door.” He ran his fingers through her damp hair. The golden strands clung to his fingers.

  “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

  He nodded, unable to speak. He wanted to be there every time she woke up. Every time she lay down to sleep. Eliza had shown him that he was more than the curse. A gift more valuable than all the gold he’d ever hoarded.

  Chapter 15

  Roan closed the door, and she was alone in his room. Cold numbed her feet, yet her body was molten with the heat of their loving. Her skin ached for his touch but every time he touched her, she changed. The layers she’d built to protect herself fell away, but they hadn’t protected her. They’d trapped her and weighed her down with other people’s expectations. She’d conformed for so long she didn’t even know who she was, or what she wanted. Only that she wanted Roan by her side. When he left she would be lost, cast adrift by her goblin lover.

  Involuntarily her fingers traced the partially healed scratches on her arms. Eliza bit her lip. He’d healed her with magic. Magic Roan couldn’t afford to draw. What would remain of him if he faded? Would she recognize him, or wish that he’d died like he wanted?

  Droplets of water trickled down her back. Eliza shivered. Asking him to live on for her was cruel, but expecting her to move on and forget was worse. Water dripped onto the floor. He expected her to sleep while the Hoard attacked, urged on by the druid. She hugged the towel tighter. If nothing else, she needed to get dry and dressed.

  An antique set of drawers sat on one side of the room—heavy, carved, and missing the mirror that should have filled the frame that rested on the top. Instead it had been replaced with a polished sheet of gold. Her image was distorted by the imperfect surface. Her face lacked the pale, pinched look that she’d become accustomed to seeing. Instead the gold gave her a glow her skin had never had. She tore her gaze away. It was too easy to become sucked in by an illusion.

  She opened the top drawer, sure even the Goblin King had a change of clothes. As expected there were T-shirts. Black. Eliza slipped one over her head. Too big, but not big enough to cover her butt. She wrapped the towel around her hair. The second drawer had socks and black camo. Roan’s choice of clothing was as colorful as the landscape.

  Better to blend into the shadows.

  His pants were too big. They hung off her hips and dragged on the floor. Eliza rolled up the cuffs. While she knew his socks wouldn’t fit, they would offer some protection from the ice that formed the core of the Shadowlands. She gave her hair a quick rub, then hung the towel over a handle on the drawers.

  Out of curiosity she opened the last drawer. A brilliant blue and red plaid was folded next to dark clothes. On the plaid lay a gold clasp. She picked it up, recognizing it from the memory Dai had shown her. A lump grew in her throat, swelling like a ripening fruit. These were the clothes Roan had been cursed in. The edges of the cavern blurred as tears filled her eyes. He’d kept them to die in. Eliza carefully placed the cloak clasp back down and shut the drawer, feeling like she’d violated a sacred space by peering into his past.

  Their relationship had an expiration date. She was going to have to live with that, but she didn’t have to forget. She didn’t have to move on. There would never be another man able to take Roan’s place.

  ***

  “We have a problem,” Roan said as he joined his brother high on the rock ledge overlooking what had been the entrance to their caves. He glanced over the edge at the goblins below chipping away at the rock. He hadn’t been able to seal the caves as well as he’d hoped. The Hoard would break th
rough—the only question was before or after he ran out of soul?

  Dai peered over his book seemingly oblivious to the Hoard below. “I had noticed the rowdy neighbors and that the queen was in residence again.”

  “I thought I asked you to defend the castle in my absence.” Roan snatched the book off of him.

  “And I am.” Dai picked up an empty wine bottle and lobbed it over the edge. A half full one rested next to him. The goblins started attacking each other, each one wanting to be the first to break into the caves. “They don’t know we’re up here.”

  “He does.” Roan pointed at a bird circling high on non-existent air currents. The druid was supervising the war he’d manufactured. Killing a couple of scouts was easy, but taking on a goblin army was dangerous. Every fight would bring his goblin to the surface. Would he be fighting to defend his home, his gold, or his queen? After what the druid had done to Eliza, he deserved to die.

  Roan drew his gun. One good shot would end it now. Usually he was so busy fending off the druid’s magic he didn’t have a chance to shoot.

  Dai put his hand on Roan’s arm. “I wouldn’t do that. If the Hoard realizes we’re up here they will start climbing, and I doubt you have the magic left to do any more re-sculpting.”

  When he’d sealed the entrance he’d opened a crack above so they could watch without being seen. That magic, followed by healing Eliza, had used everything he’d had to spare—which hadn’t been much to start with. Dai was right. As tempting as shooting the druid was, it would only draw the Hoard’s gaze upward. He couldn’t afford that because he didn’t have enough magic left to seal the rock. He didn’t have enough soul left for anything other than existing and even that was tenuous. One wrong step and he was gone. Roan forced himself to re-holster the gun.