Sarah woke up in the dark and lay listening in the silence for the sound that had roused her from her dreamless sleep. There was nothing to hear but the sound of the wind moaning around the Castle towers and the steady sleeping breath of Perrin cuddled up close to her side.

Very gently, she moved the goblin away so that she could slip from the bed. Perrin mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, tucked his knees up to his little chest, and settled back with a sigh.

Sarah slipped a light robe over her chemise, lit a candle with a snap of her fingers, and cautiously made her way down the spiral staircase, listening intently for the sound of an intruder or—more likely—goblins getting up to mischief.

She stepped onto the landing and went very still.

There sat Jareth on his throne, shirtless, head down, shoulders slumped, dancing a small crystal orb idly over his fingers. On the floor in one corner, Sarah could faintly see the glittering shards of another crystal. Jareth had apparently hurled it at the wall, and that was the sound she'd heard.

"Jareth?" Sarah waited for him to look up, and when he didn't, she tentatively stepped down from the landing. "Jareth?"

He said nothing and made no move to suggest he had heard her. He just kept playing the little crystal ball over the back of his hand and staring at the floor between his feet as though he were mapping out the world on its stones.

A little worried now; Sarah went to him and knelt. "Jareth? Are you alright?"

Nothing, not even the slightest downward flicker of an eyelash. He was completely absorbed in his own thoughts; the world outside did not exist.

Sarah pressed a hand to his forehead and tilted his head up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Jareth?"

His eyes drifted closed once, and when they opened again, the haunting blankness was gone and she knew that he was seeing her. "Jareth, what's wrong?"

He stopped playing with the crystal in his hand and it popped like a bubble. "Nothing," he said. He rested the back of one hand on her shoulder and began twining a lock of her waist length hair through his fingers. "Nothing," he repeated softly.

"Then why are you sitting here in the dark with—?"

Jareth suddenly cupped her face in his hands and drew her forward. He kissed her, and this time there was a fierceness and urgency that their other kisses had lacked. He took her mouth as he wanted to take her body, using teeth and tongue to draw small whimpers from her throat. When he broke the kiss, they were both shaking, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face to her belly, she did not resist.

Sarah was afraid of Jareth, not because she thought he would hurt her—she was fairly certain that he would never lay a hand on her in anger—but because of how much she wanted him. She wanted him more every day she was with him. She could not remember a time when she wanted anything as much as she wanted Jareth. One touch, one kiss, a rare tender look. She savored them all, kept them secured in her pocket like colorful little pebbles, to be taken out and looked at again later, or just touched every now and then for comfort.

And this wanting terrified her more than violence or anger would have. Violence she could fight. But not this, not this aching need that made her feel in danger of losing herself. She wondered if a century from now she would even recognize the young girl who defied the Goblin King and stormed the Castle to rescue a baby. Would she remember that baby's name? And if she didn't, if she became something else, something like Elipsabet, or any one of the golden Sidhe, and forgot the world above, would she care?

With a groan, Jareth nuzzled her belly and squeezed her tightly against him. Sarah didn't know what was wrong—and something obviously was—but she could see that he needed reassurance of some kind, so she accepted his embrace. She ran her fingers lightly through his hair and made nonsense soothing noises in her throat.

She did this until she felt his hands venture lower and his mouth press against the under curve of her breast through the fabric of her chemise. "Jareth," she said and pushed at his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

He nipped her breast lightly and she tensed. "Jareth, don't."

"Why not?" He murmured. Without waiting for an answer, he caught her nipple in his teeth through the fabric and tugged lightly.

Sarah gasped, her fingers biting into his shoulders. "Jareth," she said anxiously, tugging at his hair to get him to look up at her.

He let go and shifted his gaze to her face. "What's wrong?"

Sarah's heart was racing, her breath coming in harsh pants. "Jareth," she said, "you can't ask this of me."

"I am not asking," he growled, his expression keen and intent.

Sarah's pulse quickened in alarm at the predatory gleam in his eyes. "Jareth, please—"

He pressed one last lingering kiss into the curve of her shoulder and stood. "Goodnight, Sarah," he said, flatly, then turned and walked away, leaving her alone at the foot of his throne.

Sarah pressed a violently shaking hand to her throat and tried to compose herself. When she felt like she could hold the candle without dropping it, she picked it up and returned to her rooms.

She didn't sleep much the rest of the night.