by Shona Husk
The Hoard spread out, dispersing the mayhem. Any woman unfortunate enough to be caught out was likely to wake up in the Shadowlands as a queen to any goblin willing to fight and kill to keep her and become king. A job Roan would hand over without a second thought. He’d done it for too long.
He broke away from the group, riding the solstice alone with the storm at his back and the world at his feet. It was strangely empty and held no allure. He was taking his last ride alone. Was a king without men really a king? His lips twisted in a goblin’s grimace. He didn’t care.
Roan let his mount lead, grateful he was still able to enjoy the easy pleasure of riding. The surly beast chased down streets, past cars that swerved and found nothing to hit, yet left the driver blinking and swearing.
His dead horse chewed up miles of road, hooves sparking on the asphalt. She cleared rivers and raced over rooftops. The earth turned under the blanket of the storm. So much had changed in the Fixed Realm that even if he found his way back he would have no place. Cities sprawled, roads snaked the surface of the earth. The world he had fought for was gone, replaced by the one he watched from the Shadowlands but would never get the chance to experience.
What would it be like to sit in a movie theatre and not skulk in the shadows? To go out with Eliza on his arm? To sit in a restaurant instead of stealing plates of food?
He kicked the horse on, knowing she wouldn’t tire. He wanted to catch the edge of the sunset half a world away. Roan’s skin tightened and cracked. His head snapped up. He jerked the reins. The horse reared, but he held her with a firm hand. His knuckles whitened around the leather. She pranced in a tight circle in the middle of a freeway. Cars raced past. Roan’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.
She wouldn’t dare. Dare to test his vow.
Tonight of all nights. The solstice most treasured by goblins. He listened again, but the voice was in his head. She called. She summoned not Roan, but the Goblin King to her side.
He threw down the reins and released the horse of her duty. The glow of her red eyes lingered as she dissolved like mist and then was gone, returned to the dead.
His skin peeled at the edges, dragging his body to answer the summons. It was a fight he couldn’t win and a promise he couldn’t break. With a cry of anguish Roan threw himself into the night to claim his queen.
***
The air tasted like ozone and rippled with power. Eliza’s hair crackled with static. It was too late to take back the summons. She pressed another button on her mobile, the faint blue light all she had to keep the darkness away. Her heart pulsed in her throat. Shadows chased each other over the walls and under the bed. She refused to watch their macabre dance.
The jangling of beads broke the silence. Eliza looked up from her phone, her hands clenched around the plastic. Her heart slid down her spine and slowed to one beat that seemed to last for hours.
Before her stood the Goblin King in black camo, armed with an ancient sword and a modern military handgun. The gold torque gleamed in the pale light, but his face was hidden in the shadows. His dreadlocks looked alive in the unnatural battle between light and dark.
“Why do you call the Goblin King?” His voice rasped out and slithered over her skin cold and rough. “You know my nature.” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted, so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Or do you test me?”
The light from her phone died. She swallowed. He was more fearsome than she remembered. Had he already lost? No. She had to believe that beneath the power that crawled around this goblin was Roan. The alternative was…unthinkable. That she had called the Goblin King and surrendered herself to a monster. She licked her lip but words wouldn’t come.
“My patience grows thin, Eliza.” The air in the room snapped and sparked, lighting the bulbs. They burned bright and hopeful.
“Prove you are Roan.”
He laughed. The sound cooled her blood so it thickened, coagulating in her gut.
“If I had faded, I would have the peace of not being summoned by a woman not sure if she can stomach what she has agreed to.” He released her chin and leaned close—so close their noses almost touched. “You haven’t forgotten the arrangement?”
Eliza inhaled the stale air. No, not forgotten—she’d been counting on it. It was better to be queen to a cursed man than wife to a man who made living a nightmare. This was her chance to be free of Steve forever and to rescue Roan from the druid’s curse. She glanced at the yellow eyes that seemed so alien yet held the hurt of the man they hid. This had to work—for both of them.
“I’ll be your queen. But first I need your help.” She could push Steve away, but he would always be part of her life while he held the papers. Where she had failed to find them, she was sure Roan would succeed.
The goblin spun away dragging a cape of shadows with him. He faced her again. “You make demands?”
She wouldn’t fold now. Eliza straightened her back, acting brave to convince herself she was.
“If I am to truly be with you, I need to free myself from Steve first.” Eliza dipped her head a fraction but kept her gaze on the goblin. Roan didn’t respond to orders well. And he was in there, behind the yellow eyes and gray skin.
He took her hand and slid her engagement ring off. It fell silently on the floor. “Is it so hard for you to be free?”
“It’s not just the ring.” How could she make him understand when even she was hard-pressed to explain how her life had become so tangled—how much power Steve held over her? Power she intended to sever, permanently.
He tilted his head and froze. His bulging eyes watched her, weighing her. “You want me to kill him?”
“No!” she gasped. “But there are documents that bind my life to his. I need to find them so he can’t use them against me. So I can be free.”
Before Roan, she’d forgotten what it felt like to breathe without fear.
He spread his arms. “You think this is freedom. You accepted my offer. You can’t walk away from me the way you can Steve. We play this to the end.” He placed both hands around hers.
The cold of his flesh hurt her hands. “When does this end?”
“When I say so.” The air hummed, alive with the pounding of her heart and the magic of the goblin. Eliza’s eyebrows pinched together, her voice was a whisper. “What if the curse doesn’t break?”
A look of pain twisted the goblin’s face as if the thought caused such agony that hearing it spoken wounded not only flesh but also his soul.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
The air was pressed out of her lungs. Her vision went black as the shadows invaded her body and ripped her out of her world and into the Shadowlands. She gagged and gasped, drowning in the blackness. Pins and needles in every limb. This is what it felt like to die.
Her feet hit the floor of the cave chamber in the Shadowlands. She stumbled but was caught by the man who lived in her dreams. Roan held her to his chest. Raw desperation burned in his desert blue eyes. Aching for something the way the sand cries for rain, and she was the first to try to quench his thirst.
She touched his skin, fair but tanned like he’d spent all his time under the sun. Her fingers traced the lines of his face. Strong like a king should be, but not arrogant. With his dark, almost black, hair and clear blue eyes, he was the perfect Celt. A scar ran under his jaw, almost hidden by stubble. She raised an eyebrow in question.
“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.
