She dreamed of goblins chasing chickens. She woke when the chickens' noises of distress were replaced with soft, consistent beeps.
The pain was manageable, even when she tried to look around her hospital room. She needed to see if her mysterious rescuer was still there.
"He's not here."
The low, accented voice sent her heart fluttering. Her monitors copied it, giving away her reaction. There, in the dark corner of the room near the window, the man lounged in an uncomfortable hospital chair.
"Your baby brother," the man clarified. "Mrs. Schlepp brought him to see you. She took him home an hour ago."
"How long have I been out?"
He shrugged, a graceful, lithe movement. "For a time."
"How long?" The steel in her words didn't faze him. She had no reason to explain her need to know that detail. Time was precious. When she was a teenager, she'd developed a need to track it, to constantly be aware of it. Toby had often said she would make a great alarm clock.
"Thirteen hours," the man said. His mouth quirked at the corner and he added, "And four minutes, if you must know."
They watched each other, wary and strangely comfortable at the same time. He was handsome. More than handsome. Painfully beautiful. Ethereal.
Long, shaggy, blonde hair framed a delicate, finely-boned face. Pale skin, thin lips, arched brows that even now raised in faint mockery of her inspection. He was dressed like many of the college boys she knew. A worn white shirt and navy vest, skinny dark grey trousers, and black boots that looked like something the lead singer of a punk band would wear if he went horseback riding. The only difference was the pair of leather driving gloves that looked like a second-skin on his hands.
Her attention was distracted by a length of dark leather cord at his neck. Her eyes followed the cord down to a silver, sickle-shaped pendant that hung heavy against his chest. She'd seen that same design before...somewhere…
Focus, Sarah.
She relaxed, settling back against the pillows. "You're the one who found me?"
His head tilted in assent.
"What's your name?"
"Jareth."
Since her father and stepmother's deaths, Sarah had always felt like a little piece of her was missing. But the moment her rescuer said his name, that blank space she'd refused to examine too closely melted away.
"Jareth…"
His fingers tapped the arm of his chair. She wondered if he was bored.
"Thank you for helping me," she said, meaning it with every fiber of her being. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't found me."
The wave of his hand was flippant, practiced. "Of course. I can be generous, Sarah."
"Why are you still here? Isn't it past visiting hours?"
"Should I leave, pet?"
"I didn't say that–" She flushed when the words slipped out.
His smirk was pure mischief and masculine pleasure. "Then what should we do together?"
Without meaning to, her eyes drifted south. He froze, an expression of shock on his face. Then he tilted his head back and laughed. It was a sound of artless joy. She hadn't felt an emotion so light in such a long time that she was surprised she could still recognize it. Her cheeks blazed.
He stood and swaggered across the room. Again, her heart sped up when he leaned down at the edge of her bed. A finger traced the site of the catheter in her hand. "I prefer you this way, Sarah. Freedom suits you. And I appreciate its easing of your positively prudish mores."
"I'm not a prude," she protested.
The earlier smirk grew into a mocking smile. "You're the sort of woman who could make a king fall in love with her after a single dance, only to turn around and spurn him on a whim."
How could he know about that dream?
"No one falls in love after a single dance," she argued.
"Oh, Sarah, you are cruel. Have you grown so jaded in my absence?"
"I've never seen you before!"
"What a pity," he murmured, taking a seat in the chair beside her bed.
That phrase bothered her. She'd heard it before—not like she could remember where—and it had bothered her then too. It was a mixture of genuine pity and amusement and it grated.
"I'm pretty positive I'd remember that meeting," she said. "I don't know how I could ever forget you."
Something flitted through his eyes. If she hadn't seen how quickly his face returned to its normal, faintly mocking expression, she would have almost believed it was...pain.
"It's late," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "You should get some sleep."
"What about you?" she asked, ignoring the one, slightly sane voice in her head that was wondering why she hadn't called for security yet.
"I have some business to attend to. Calls to make, underlings to threaten." He settled back more comfortably in the chair. "I will be here when you wake up."
The promise shouldn't have mattered. But once he spoke those words, she felt herself slipping off to sleep.
are wrong."
