Chapter Twelve
They danced around each other the next few hours, not touching, but never apart. Their distance in spirit was volatile and concrete. Sarah didn't acknowledge him, them. He felt ready to give up, to release her. His whim wasn't enough to keep her. If he thought she had broken him before now with her taunts and tease, it was nothing like the present denial. He was cracking, head to sole, falling back into mismatched puzzle pieces that could never be repaired or put back together again.
After their passionate culinary kisses, there was Nothing. She gave no indication of feeling any more for him than she had before, while he was ready to expire away from want. Jareth walked her to her rooms, ready to leave her to rest. She pulled at his arm as he turned away.
"Wait," she said.
He paused, ramrod straight. He turned back to her, his face carefully neutral.
"My dress," she said, turning her back to him. "I got into it, but I'm not sure I can get out." She smiled, wan. "I tangled the laces pretty bad this time."
He approached warily. To touch her again so soon, when he knew he couldn't have her, was the worst kind of pain.
She lifted her hair from her neck. He saw his necklace nestled against her skin, her sweet and fragrant skin. He inhaled, careful to keep his erratic emotions at bay, not revealing. His hidden curse—the need for her. Such intoxication.
Jareth was careful not to touch her. He shook from his want. He felt like a youth again. More inflamed, in fact, for his youth had not brought her into his life. Now he had adult wants, adult desires. He fidgeted, his impatience at her coyness making him weak.
He hovered his fingers over the seams in the gown, loosening them but not untying. He feared his control should she bare too much to him. He heard her heartbeat, pulsing and erratic. It echoed within him as if they were already joined.
She turned around, holding the front of the dress to her breasts. He kept his gaze carefully on her eyes, still playing the gentleman.
She hesitated, looking at his collarbone, not his face. The games they played. See-saw futility, up and down and back and forth. It was dizzying, palpable.
"Jareth..."
He acknowledged with a nod. She continued, "I keep having those nightmares. Could you…?" She paused, uncertain. Then she swallowed and said, "I would like if you would stay with me tonight. If you can."
There was no promise in her words. Just the beckoning fear that had come from her dreams. He nodded, his eyes noncommittal.
"I'll leave you until you are ready to sleep. Then I'll return," he said. His voice was stark. He had to be cold to survive. She gave so little, his cruel Sarah.
She sighed, content. "Thank you."
As he left the Queen's chambers next to his own sleeping quarters, Jareth leaned against the closed door with agitation. To have her so close, not able to touch. It was his burden to bear. He would never harm her, do anything she didn't want. Even as his body screamed for completion, for the release of agonizing wait. Sarah was still so young, a true youth, in spite of her adult life lessons. He had eons of knowledge behind him, and at times such as these, he felt truly ancient.
She couldn't know what she asked of him.
It was even worse, knowing he had tasted her and may never have that delight again. She had been reserved with him since then, but he wouldn't regret it. No, never.
He clenched his fists. Clench, unclench. His fingertips carved into his skin, relieving the pressure he felt inside.
He felt the pull of her sleep beckon. He still stood outside her door, braced as if he would fall without the support.
Jareth almost didn't go to her. But he would rather imprison himself than refuse her. He opened the door a crack, almost backing up and turning around. Still, he pressed forward, inching into her room.
He caught his breath and slid into the bed mostly clothed, under the covers, next to her. She moaned and reached out. He evaded her grasping fingers. Then he sighed, giving in to his whim, and took her hand. He held her fingers tight. Their joined fingers were all that touched. For Jareth, it had to be enough.
She dreamed. He was sucked deep inside. He didn't refuse her, not even within her unconscious harboring.
Oshall. Eddie. Small yellow capsules and a fear of a red-haired nurse. He saw it all. He took and took and took, removing her pain. The night was agony; his want flared and consumed. He kept the hounding need at bay. For her...for her.
He closed his eyes as morning cracked the sky, tired but relieved. It was his gift to her, to take what she had sorrowed over for so long and give it a prettier face. He couldn't move, his body recovering, but he couldn't imagine a place he would rather be than by her side.
She stirred, rolling over and tucking in beside him. His joy was compounded. His Sarah. His beloved. She may never love him, but she was already his queen.
With an unsteady hand, he reached out and smoothed her sleep-tangled hair back from her rosy face. She was so beautiful. Lovely and whimsical, his pained combination.
She opened her eyes. And smiled. He quirked his mouth back at her.
"Good morning, love," he said.
"Morning." She blushed, tugging at the lowered straps of her chemise.
"No, darling. You are perfection the way you are."
"My clothes are falling off me," she said, shy.
"Precisely." He smirked, though it took everything he had to play off his pain.
Their faces were centimeters apart. He saw every freckle, every small laugh line. Her eyes were flecked with gold. His favorite color, besides green, of course.
"Did you sleep," she said, concern entering her face as she stared at him. "You look exhausted."
"I don't-"
"I know," she said, giggling. "You don't sleep much, either."
"No."
She peered at him, reaching out to smooth an arched eyebrow. He shivered.
"You're not telling the whole truth, Jareth," she said, soft. "I thought you would never lie to me."
He shook his head. So weak. "I'm. Not lying."
Too tired to be fully argumentative. Jareth eyed her watchful gaze. He inhaled a whistled breath. Her stare was aware. Discerning. He exhaled, raggedly.
"How-?" How did you know...
"I know that look. You're hurt."
He shrugged, his movement pulling the coverlet further down their bodies. She scolded him lightly, her mouth a moue.
"Besides," she said, "I know you were there."
He pretended ignorance. It was easy to be distracted when she had so much smooth skin revealed.
"You were there. In my dream." She was persistent.
He played coy. "I am the Dream Keeper." If he had the energy to shrug again, he would have done so.
"You took it from me." She leaned forward and kissed him, plucking at his lower lip. Forgiving and contrite. Innocent with her ministrations. "I am not afraid anymore."
"Good," he whispered. It was worth it, then.
She chided. "You don't have to make yourself ill because of saving me."
"It is a small thing."
"I know it's not," she said, kissing him deeper this time, her heartbeat erratic next to his chest. He pressed against her. Anything she bequeathed to grant upon him was precious.
"This is a good morning." He attempted a laugh. He was still weak, and she lowered her brows, watching him.
"It's better now that you are beside me." She covered her face after she spoke. He fought a deep and perplexed inhale. Teeter-totter.
"Shy, Sarah?" She was delightful, so full of unexpected gestures and whim.
Her voice came muffled from under the blanket. "A little." She paused and then said, "And I have to go to the bathroom but I'm only wearing this thin thing."
"Don't hesitate to get up on my behalf," he said, smoothly. "Feel free to show me anything you have got."
"Okay, I'll get up, but because I really have to." Her head came out from the blanket. "But you have to turn your face away."
Jareth smiled. She was so dear, so enchantingly demure. Unexpected.
"I'll turn my whole body," he said, teasing her. "And I won't even peek."
She play smacked him. He pretended to feel pain. "Just make sure you don't, my king."
My king.
Did she realize what she had called him? Jareth felt his insides soar. He beamed, and he didn't even care if she noticed.
He kissed the tip of her flushed nose before she gestured for him to roll over. He felt her leap out of the bed, dragging half the covers with her in her haste.
He chuckled. He hadn't felt such happiness in...forever.
He couldn't imagine how giddy he would be if she ever decided to forsake him of his virgin state. He shivered at the thought, a weight of irridescent power glimmering over him. Millennia-old, and still a man untouched. He would continue to wait and wait forever if need be. He would never press upon her his desire. Especially now, now that he had found his perfect match. He settled his face, and his body, back to a bland nonchalance as he heard her approach.
She came bounding back to the bed, jerking the covers back up. "Okay, you can look now."
"Who says I wasn't?"
"You big tease!" she said. "I trust you and know you didn't peek a bit."
"Well, since your lovely image is forever imprinted behind my eyeballs, I need not worry," he said.
Instead of asking him to leave, Sarah cuddled up near him again. He wondered about her changed state but didn't want to disqualify it. He loved it, every moment.
She giggled as her stomach growled moments later, ingratiating upon the calm mood. He smiled. "Oh, the beast is rumbling," he said.
"I am hungry," she admitted.
"Then I shall have to feed my queen."
She stopped smiling. He cursed himself for bringing the mood to an end.
"Jareth..."
"What do you want for breakfast, my dear?" He attempted to smooth it out by changing the subject back to her appetite.
She whispered. "Coffee."
"Just coffee?" He wanted to touch her again, reassure her, but he didn't risk it.
She nodded. "Um-hmm."
She wouldn't look at him. He slid out of the warm bed, tucking the covers gently around her shoulders. "Stay here. I'll bring it to you."
"You don't have-"
"I want to." He leaned down, despite his better intentions, and brushed a kiss across her cheek.
"Jareth-"
"Stay, my love."
He took the moment to whisk himself away, out of her rooms. He stood back out in the hallway, where he had begun the night, sweat gathering on his temple. What had he done? And what would he do now?