Chapter Nineteen

He had anticipated having trouble keeping an eye on all of his lands and citizens, Elmethan, Biranat, and Sarah at the same time. But the goblins were no more troublesomet than usual, Elmethan sought only her mother, and Biranat was not left alone for a single second to take inventory or steal magic. This was because Sarah did not once stir in her deep slumber as he arranged paths the mother and daughter could not deviate from, natural and supernatural barriers on all sides and faeries hovering around them at all times. There was nothing to distract him, nothing at all.

It was driving him crazy.

"She's got to wake sometime!" He snarled, pacing around his bedroom, wishing he had a goblin to kick, but they weren't allowed in his private chambers. He stepped around the floating crystal collecting data on other worlds as if he was gravitating around it like a planet did its sun. Finally he flicked a small sphere up and stared again down Sarah's still image, wondering if he'd truly pushed her over the edge. It was a disappointing thought; he'd expected more from Sarah personally, especially since she was favored.

He was impeccably dressed as always, in a solid black leather vest and a long-sleeved dark red shirt, black pants and boots, similar to the outfit he'd worn when he had taunted Sarah with crystals and Toby just before she'd defeated him. He'd been almost as frustrated with her obliviousness then as now, an irony that did not occur to him when he picked out his wardrobe this morning. His hair was in its usual wild state, and his eyes narrowed in a familiar expression of displeasure. But inside he was seething in a whole new way.

How did she do this to him? No one else could make him so angry by merely not waking up.

'As long as she remains unconcious, I cannot win,' he raged inwardly. He ignored the thought that he was deeply concerned she might die; it was unbefitting for him to show concern over a captive.

He was about to toss away the crystal when he lifted it higher, peering more closely into it. Was that a twitch? No...

He realized he'd held his breath for her, truly captivated by her slightest seeming movement.

"Is this what I've become?" he wondered slowly, closing his fist on the sphere until it dissipated in his hand. "Then my enemy has me right where it wants me...which is unacceptable."

Perhaps he should just kill her now, and be done with it. Tempting thought.

He transported himself to her side, dismissing the Elf and the fairy to rest. He raised his hand quickly to her, summoning his magic before he could look too long at her face and wish again that she would plead with him for mercy. She had no desire for his mercy, and was incapable of crying long even for her mother. He had to be rid of her before she gathered her strength again--if she did. This unending cycle of him chasing and her retreating served no purpose. He extended his hand directly over her heart.

She turned her head to the side on her pillow and he paused, wondering if he had imagined it. But her chest rose and fell in a deep sigh before her breathing evened out again. He lowered his hand back to his side, titling his head to study her.

"So," he murmured. "Still, you toy with me. Just when I am ready to be done with you, you remind me that humans are far more fickle and unpredictable than Fae know."

She continued breathing steadily.

"Was this a timely show?" he addressed the air, lifting his chin slightly, knowing the bright one could hear him. "Luckily she moves and I spare her out of a desire to crush her with my own hands when she awakens? No," he sneered. "I will not wait for that. It ends now."

But why not have some fun? He blinked as the thought occured to him. Intimacy with an lifeless partner did not appeal to him, but pain was always good.

Why not? He decided to go with it, brushing aside the anticlimatic manner of Sarah's ending. Screaming would have added to his pleasure, but perhaps he could wring a pain-filled moan from her unconcious body. Yes, why not...? He removed his gloves, letting his natural powers rise to the surface of his skin uninhibited.

He pushed the covers off of her with the force of his magic and regarded her form, trying not to notice the healthy flush in her cheeks. She was going to die today.

Where to start? So many nerve endings...

The magic crackled on his fingertips but as he searched her body his gaze was drawn inevitably to her face, which was serene in her sleep, even as her lips twitched slightly as though she were going to speak.

If she did die today, he would never again have the chance to touch her. The fact that such a realization made him uneasy told him that he was being manipulated, and that he should simply do away with her as soon as possibly.

"But it is still a true thought," he said to himself. Why not enjoy a bit of it?

'Because it is a delaying tactic,' he knew.

"All the same," he argued with himself, reaching out to touch her lips, making them go still as he explored their softness. Wondering where to touch her next, he was struck by the thought that he'd never kissed her. He'd offered her dreams, his world, his undivided attention, romantically, and yet he had rarely touched her, even to confuse her. When he had allowed his fingertips to trail down her neck at their reunion in her room, drawing her breath out of her in surprise, it had been a calculated move. When was the last time he'd simply indulged his sense of touch for fun? Gratification of any kind, particularly physical, used to occupy a large chunk of his time.

Ah, but that was before Sarah. Now he had no desire to touch anyone else.

She moved her head a bit again as he seated himself on the bed beside her, her warm breath blowing across the back of his hand as he braced himself so as not to unbalance the mattress. It was a long-forgotten sensation, to be touched by someone else. And he had not wanted that for some time.

So, he told himself reasonably, it was perfectly logical to indulge himself with the only object of his desire--Sarah--before her timely demise.

His mind made up, he bent down to experiment, and pressed his lips softly to hers.

An immediate warmth and hunger flooded through him, and he was leaning over her with one hand in her hair before he realized what a terrible mistake he had made.

.

.

She was being slowly pushed back into her body, as though she were fading into it like a fog dissolving in reverse, and each moment brought her new sensations. But the most pressing one was both instantly recognizeable and completely unfamiliar.

She was being kissed.

'Jareth,' she knew instantly, without a doubt. But why? 'Is he raping me?!'

But she wasn't being touched anywhere else yet, so if that was what he'd decided to he hadn't gotten very far into it yet. 'Lucky me.'

She became aware of everything, the weight of her body on the bed, the temperature in the room, the darkness behind her eyelids and the solid warmth of Jareth leaning over her. He parted her lips with his own and sought to taste every corner of her mouth, stroking her tongue with his own and good gods, he tasted good!

She was arching into him and humming in pleasure deep in her throat when her brain caught on to her predicament, appalled it had lost control of the situation. She'd been horrified at his actions only seconds before!

He pulled back to see her open her eyes and she found herself reaching for him.

"If I had known this was what you were waiting for, I would have done this sooner," he began with his customary mocking tone. But he cut himself short, his eyes darkening, and lowered himself again. She wrapped her arms around him, sliding her hands down his back, into his hair, trying to touch any part of him that she could. But all too soon her physical weakness overwhelmed her--Jareth's dizzying kisses making it worse--and she dropped her weight back onto the bed, panting for air.

He remained hovering over her, one arm around her, his hand supporting her head as it had been caressing her hair seconds earlier. He regarded her, she saw when she looked up, with a disturbingly blank expression.

"You do not deny me," he said.

Confused, her brow wrinkled as she regained some control. 'What?'

"You refuse me with your words," he said slowly, "but your body responds easily to me. You are mine now, and you could have more than this; I know you want it. Then why do you bother fighting me at all?" His brows lifted slightly, as if he was merely puzzled by something trivial. As if she was not fighting for her freedom.

She snapped to, horrified that she was not more horrified at what he had done, what she had done. She was in the middle of a war here and she'd gotten distracted into submitting herself into the one activity she wanted to avoid more than anything! Even more than publically declaring her defeat and pleading for mercy he did not have, she did not want to go to his bed.

Well, maybe just once.

"What are you thinking, Sarah?" he asked smoothly, not releasing his hold on her. "Do you seek to pretend this never happened?" The corner of his lips turned up.

She shook her head in denial; it would not be just once, it would be any time he wanted after that, and he would gloat all the more each time. Worse, he'd probably be a wonderful lover, and she'd humiliate herself begging for him even after he tired of her.

"Get off me!" she demanded loudly, trying to keep the shaking out of her voice.

"No," he said simply. "I think I will finish what I started."