DISCLAIMER: Alas, I won't ever own anything related to Labyrinth, David Bowie or Jim Henson and Co.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A gifted dream.
A breathless dance.
A soured peach.

Dusk was approaching, that strange overwhelming gray overtaking the vividity of daylight as the sun sank below the horizon. Not that it mattered—her hours of freedom had only just begun, and the fading light mattered little to her. No sound obliterated the quiet, save for the wind whispering through the trees, carrying the scent of wet grass and freshly turned earth.

Adjusting the heavy basket in the crook of her arm, she made her way into the clearing that had been consuming her every thought. She stopped near the water's edge, pausing to quell her excitement.

Secretly hoping for his approval, she smoothed the front of her heavy woolen gown, having taken great pains with her appearance after leaving the shop that afternoon. The selection of her dress and the restyling of her hair after attempting—and failing—to adjust a few loose pins had been a far greater ordeal that she originally intended. Cautiously, her fingers tapped the mass of curls, not daring to shift the strategically placed curls pinned at the back of her head.

All was as it should be—the only thing left was to wish. Sarah couldn't help the small smile touching her lips at the thought of him. Straightening, she breathed, a tiny cloud puffing at her lips: "I wish you were here, now." It was said with no hesitation, no fear.

The wind shifted its direction, again tossing ribbons of her hair around her face. The air spun and twisted in front of her until he appeared, his cape floating to the earth to rest over the intricate, black leather armor. His hair remained as wild as ever, as did his eyes.

Something was wrong.

"You're late," he all but spat at her, his jaw ticked, as his arms folded solidly across his chest. He was angry—of that she had no doubt.

Her breath caught, and she stumbled back a step, worrying her lip with her teeth. The smile fell from her face in an instant as she struggled to find her voice. "I-I'm sorry. I—"

"You lied to me," he ground out between his teeth as he took a slow, predatory step forward.

"Lied?" Her head shook in earnest protest. "No! No, I haven't—"

He swallowed the distance between them, and she was obliged to scuffle backward or else be stepped on as he advanced. One arm swept the basket out of her hands, and it tumbled to the wayside. She jumped back with a gasp. "You said you would wish for me, Sarah." Her name came out like a hiss. "Do you think I take kindly being taken advantage of? Being made a fool?"

A pathetic squeak escaped her, eyes fixated on the silhouetted heap of the basket. Fear refused to let her look into those terrible pools of contrasting color that would only serve to prove his sudden repulsion of her. She did not understand what she had done. Surely one lost wish was not worthy of such disdain? Her voice betrayed her as she parroted, "Fool?"

A gloved hand shot out and seized her chin, painless but not gentle, tilting it upward, forcing her to look at him. "I am not some simple peasant boy you can cast aside! I am a King. I have the capability for great generosity and great cruelty. You wouldn't survive the latter, believe me."

His hand moved suddenly, clenching into a fist. She shrank from him, thinking he meant to strike her. But then he turned on his heel, the movement inhumanly graceful, stalking away from her to the water's edge.

"You promised me, Sarah. Does that mean nothing to you? Is your life so pitifully short that an oath can be so easily broken?" His hands were curled at his sides, the pebbles crunching as he pivoted to her, the dying sunlight catching the fire glinting in his eyes. "Oh, yes, you played me for a fool. Tell me, my dear, were you waiting to see how long your wiles could keep my attention?" The words were like poison on his lips. "I waited for you! I waited! I do not wait—not upon the whims of mortals!" A crystal appeared in his hand, spinning madly over his dark gloved fingers before he spun to hurl it against the sunken turret jutting from the lake. Unlike their last meeting, this destruction held none of the same mirth as its predecessor. "I move the stars for no one!"

Her mouth hung open in a rude display of dumbfounded shock. Did he think so little of her? Did he believe she thought so little of him? "I have wished you back." It was all she could think to say, inadequate as it was. Mustering her courage, Sarah moved closer to his raging form with guarded steps. Even in the fading twilight, she could see the tension rippling across his frame: the balls of his fists were so tightly closed, she was certain his knuckles would burst the seams of his gloves.

"How many other promises do you intend to break between us? What other demands shall you make of me, I wonder?" The King's eyes bore a darkness she had never seen before, as though he was possessed by some rancorous demon. His next words could not have been spoken with such insidious intent had the devil uttered them himself. "Would you prefer the company of your attackers? You did seem quite eager—"

Her palm cracked against his cheek with such force that the sting radiated into the crest of her shoulder, the question breaking her tenuous hold on rationality. Tears that had pooled, poised on the brim of her eyes, dried instantly, but the hard jagged rock in her throat held fast. "I fell asleep." The emotionless vocalization of her truth slid past her lips, too quiet for a mere man to hear.

He heard.

It was a devastating sound—far worse than the cries of war on the bloodied battlefields of his youth. This was an intimate suffering caused by the sharpened blade of his rapier tongue. It was proof of something broken—something he destroyed with his cruelty. The anger melted away into regret, guilt.

The fire that burned too hot leapt from his eyes to settle deep within hers, making a home for itself in her misery. "I fell... ALSEEP!" Sarah screamed, stomping forward. Her chest heaved. "I was exhausted from my daily obligations, you pompous bastard!"

He stared at her for a long moment, contrition and shame for top billing. His anger reduced to a simmer rather than a rolling boil.

"You fell asleep?" he repeated blandly. "Am I to believe you've just now risen from your bed? No, of course not. Because I left my kingdom to find you, to make sure you were safe and unharmed! And what did I see?" he asked mockingly, his voice still low, as he snatched her upper arms with painful force. "I saw you laughing while you sauntered down the road. Were you asleep then? And when you saw me, for I know you saw me, Sarah, why did you not make your wish then?" A brow rose as he inclined his head to her, mocking her with his sneer.

Unsure, she simply watched him in the approaching twilight, trepidity festering within her breast the longer he remained silent. An awkward, palpable moment passed before Sarah tried to wrestle free of his commanding grip.

He released her almost violently, not shoving her away, but certainly wanting nothing more to do with her. Long, slender legs paced away while one hand tore through his hair. He paced like a caged beast, striding back and forth in attempts to tame to tempest warring within him. Suddenly he roared, a crystal exploding on the rocks between them, the powered shards glittering against the pebbles.

Her hand shot to her face, her scream silenced as she clamped hard against her lips. Before rational thought could stop her, Sarah found herself clutching her skirt and breaking into a full sprint towards the welcoming forest. Cutting an unfamiliar path through the trees and bramble, she struggled to keep her footing even as her mind panicked.

The scattering of stones and the rustle of leaves drew the Goblin King from his dour thoughts, bringing his attention back to the source of his ire—only to catch her retreating form an instant before it vanished into the darkened woods. "Sarah!" Off like a shot he sprinted, practically flying over the ground, weaving in and out of the trees with much the same ease as a deer. Her speed surprised him. She was fast, but he was faster. Stretching his arm, he reached for her.

She screamed.

An iron vice clamped her bicep, bringing her to a fierce and jarring stop. Pain radiated up her shoulder as she spun into the wall of her pursuer. Her eyes were pinched shut in terror as she blindly swung her free arm in wild defense, landing an array of solid blows against her target. Suddenly she was back within her home—her petrified, muddled brain told her that dirty, vile man was back, breathing evil threats into her ear. He had returned to claim his prize—to finish what he started. Screaming into his chest, she said the words that reechoed within her nightmares. The words she should have spoken The words that would save her: "I wish you were here now!"

Snatching both wrists, he jerked her forward against him then wrapped his arms solidly around her, pinning her to him. "Sarah! Sarah, I'm here. I'm here," he cooed into her hair, gently rocking side to side, all the while humming an unintelligible tune into the disheveled mass of tangled curls. The raw emotions that had driven her away, that fueled her fear like dry brush to wildfire, dissipated at the sound of her wailed wish. It did not matter that she had made him wait, purposefully done or not—nor did any of his other fathomless, spiteful accusations. Sarah was no villain. She had more goodness within her littlest finger than he in his entire being.

The abominable disaster of the evening was entirely his fault. She had been beside herself with anxious anticipation the moment he appeared before her: he had seen it written unabashedly across her face, eye bright and luminous at the very sight of him. Even her wish had been calm and certain—not the trepidatious jumble uttered out of fear and hesitation. She wanted to see you, his conscious lectured. She wanted you. And how did you repay her? You tormented and insulted her with impertinent accusations!

No wonder she fled.

He chastised himself once more before whispering above her hair. "I am here. You're safe now." His lips pressed to her hair. He made soft shushing sounds before murmuring, "I'm sorry." Over and over, his strange mantra of apologies and reassurances melded together, and within the velvet notes humming just above a whisper, her tension slowly began to drip away.

The haunting melody seemed to draw her out from the depths of her memories, just as he had within the wreckage of her home the day before. It was as much the words, as the scent that clung to his form, that managed to pull her from the befuddled and terrified waters of her living nightmare.

A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her at her ridiculous outburst, and worse yet—her wish. Shifting, she felt his hold lessen as he allowed her to step back from his arms. He didn't release her, but his hold was gentler now, almost endearing—tender.

Stooping to catch her gaze, he caught her terrified, mossy eyes, and at once a decision was made: he would give her an explanation. He owed her as much.

"When you didn't call for me, I thought at first you meant to punish me somehow." He paused, gritting his teeth at the confession, hating the way it tasted on his tongue. With a slow breath, he continued. "Another thought occurred to me then—one that I couldn't push away. I feared the worst—that they had returned to harm you further. That you'd be—" His head dropped, and he leaned his forehead against hers, weary lids falling over mismatched eyes as he breathed her intoxicating aroma into his soul.

"I am without weakness—but you—" His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Before even he knew what he was doing—before he could stop himself—his hand tangled in her hair while the other pulled her body flush against his. His mouth devoured hers. Marking her. Claiming her.

He put his anger into the kiss, along with the shame he couldn't conceal. He was ruthless, plundering her mouth again and again. She surrendered to him, even as he swallowed her soft whimpers. Again her tears welled, but she made no effort to stem their flow, letting them trickle from the corners of her eyes to spill onto her cheeks.

The kiss softened, becoming more loving and less brutal. He pulled back to peer briefly into her eyes before lowering to kiss the tears away from her face. He licked the salt from his lips before returning to her mouth, teasing and nibbling lightly. The hand tangled in her hair tugged softly, allowing him the surrender he craved. Slow, shuffling steps gradually moved her backwards until their progress was halted against a thick tree trunk, and with a tortured moan, he leaned into her.

That sensual sound shattered the trance that had consumed her. Reality took hold, forcing Sarah to break the kiss with a shuddering gasp. The rapid pounding of her heart echoed loudly between them as she stared straight ahead. The foreign, but not unpleasant sensation of his assault lingered on her bruised lips as they both panted for breath.

Transfixed by the beauty before him, his mind wandered. How long had it been since he'd allowed his control to slip? Only this perfect enigma could confound him at every turn, boil his temper one moment and his lust the next. Looking down on her with wonder, he noted the heat radiating from her, his own body flush against hers from knees to torso. Again, he dropped his forehead to rest against hers, contenting himself to just have her in his arms, unafraid.

He could feel her frowning, and were he not so close, he wouldn't have caught her whispered words. "You can be so—cruel." Yet despite that, she remained trapped between his unyielding form and the tree.

His lips curled back in an almost wicked grin that revealed pointed canines; a chuckle rumbled deep within in his chest. "Oh Sarah," he purred against her ear, wrapping the ribbons of her hair around his hand to sweep them out of his way. "I can also be so very generous." He lowered his mouth to the column of her throat, teeth nipping, lips suckling at the skin there, tuning his senses to every tiny sound and movement his ministrations evoked in her.

Sarah tried to slow her frenzied pulse, whimpering in an attempt to silence the wanton sounds she could hardly believe were hers. She was not this woman. She was far too sensible to succumb to such brazenness. Yet, there she stood, neck arched, eyes closed in reckless abandon as his lips continued mapping out the sensitive column of her neck.

He laved the skin over her pulse, lashing his tongue against it before biting gently, and when he felt her body shudder beneath his touch, he couldn't help the satisfied grin that spread across his lips. Turning his attention to the other side of her neck, his splayed hands began to wander the length of the bodice, settling at the curve of her hips. Those sharp teeth were her undoing as he nipped at her ear, his tongue caressing the tender flesh as an unfettered moan turned into a gasp. She fought to control herself, trying desperately to regain her senses. "No!" She was not this woman. "No!" this time with more force.

His hands lifted off her immediately, and he stepped back. His breathing was deep and ragged. He pushed a hand through his hair, watching her squirm as evidence of the war within her mind. "I anticipate the day when I won't have to stop," he said with a hungry smirk.

Sarah said nothing. His words terrified her, excited her, and she dared not dwell on them further. Deciding to put much needed space between them, she pushed away from the tree, only to be stopped with a sharp tug at her scalp. The bark held her hostage, its rough hands latching onto her hair just as her companion's hands had been only moments before. Lifting her arms to untangle it, she winced, gritting her teeth against the soreness of her forgotten shoulder as the heavy curls began to fall free.

His eyes never left her, wanting her on edge, uncomfortable, and off balance, while he drank in every detail of her svelte figure. Dove-grey twilight touched the slender, vulnerable edges of her face, and he was once again grateful for his enhanced sight, and the unencumbered view it afforded him.

An odd sensation gripped deep within his core at the sight of her dark tresses spiraling free down her back. It had been too long since he had seen it unrestrained, and even then his memory could hardly do it justice. A beauty, that is what she was—what she had been before—what she would always be.

A deep breath filled his lungs with the frigid night air, and he savored the burn. It grounded him, distracted him.

Sarah could feel his eyes caress her, though she could make out very little in the darkness under the cover of trees. Cautiously, she stepped forward, navigating her way back to the water with an outstretched hand. Her fingers grazed the bark of one tree as she made her way to the next.

He watched her shuffle her way through the night, her skirt and cloak catching on this or that as she stumbled forward. Finally he took pity on her, and in a few deft strides, his large hand closed around her small one with a start. No words were exchanged—he simply led her through the trees, guiding her every step until they were once again under the open expanse of the slowly encroaching starlight.

A full minute passed before her eyes dropped and her head shook as she tried to regain composure. "I need light." Her sibilated demand trickled away as she craned her neck to see where she had placed the lantern before making her wish.

"Do you?" he crooned, leaning ever so slightly closer, his voice a velvet whisper. "Pity. I find that darkness can be quite liberating."

Her pulse quickened at his insinuation as a warm heat hummed within her veins. Sarah stepped back, one hand pressed firm against the wild tattoo of her heart, as though it might steady her wandering thoughts. Spinning away from him, in an ill-attempt to find the lost lantern, Sarah marched forward only to stop abruptly with the realization that night had almost completely fallen.

Lifting her foot, Sarah probed the ground, and finding nothing, stepped forward, repeating the action. He should not have garnered such delight in her discombobulated misery, but he found himself watching far longer than he ought, before offering any assistance. "On your right, about six steps to the side and two forward."

The dull clink of her foot tapping the glass proved him right, and Sarah found herself dumbfounded. "Can you really see in the dark? Or was it a lucky guess?" She squinted, trying to make out his features under the starlight, tilting her head to scrutinize his inimitable silhouette. She could see nothing. Her shoulders drooped, the unlit light hung limp at her side. "You cheated, didn't you?"

"And why would I do that?"

She blinked, staring far longer than society would deem polite, her breath trapped in her throat. Her face resembled a poppy blossom, round and obnoxiously red. Swiping at the errant wisps dancing in the breeze, Sarah pressed her chilled hand to cool her heated cheeks. Could he see just how unsettled she was? Or the blush crawling up her neck?

"You're staring, Sarah." He chuckled at her sudden jolt. Her hand fell away from her face, and her teeth caught her lips once more. Gods below! What she did to him! Repressing the urge to taste her lips again, he decided upon another equally intriguing alternative. Taking an idle step closer, he linked his hands behind his back as he inclined his head to the lantern. "Do you plan to light it, or is it merely decorative?"

Her eyes fell to her hand, then darted back to his form. "Oh! Um—the striker is in the basket—" she said, abashed. "Excuse me." Reddening further, Sarah moved to find the misplaced picnic she knew was scattered somewhere near the shore. Her steps were halted, however, when the lantern was tugged easily from her grasp.

"Allow me." Lifting the glass box, he studied it a moment, his finger tracing the thin spider-vein cracks. A piquant grin touched his lips. He couldn't explain why such a simple thing mattered, but somehow it did. Opening the small hinged door, he blew a soft breath against the exposed wick, and the flame danced to life, illuminating his face in a golden glow. An awed expression lifted Sarah's delicate features as he tendered the lantern back into her waiting hand.

A soft rumble pulled Sarah from the trance of his presence, reminding her just how long it had been since her last meal. Self-consciously, she pressed her hand hard against her stomach, demanding its silence with her touch. When her attempts at quieting her aching core proved futile, she remembered the small supper tucked within the large wicker carrier.

It took her a moment, but eventually her eyes found the discarded basket laying near the water, its once carefully packed contents strewn about in a disheveled mess. A deep frown set her features as she raised the light; the beautiful supper she packed with great care appeared to have been all for naught.

Looking over her shoulder, the Goblin King noted the flotsam picnic scattered across the pebbled shore. "Tell me, my dear," he purred softly, the barest touch of his lips against the shell of her ear, "what sort of feast have you prepared?"

Hoping to salvage what she could, Sarah stepped away from him, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her heart raced as she knelt against the pebbled shore, her hands shaking as she gathered the scattered meal back into the basket, trying to keep thoughts of his touch out of her mind.

She cried out as a sharp pain pierced her palm. The bright sound drew an exclamation from the man behind her, followed by a low question asked with forced calm.

"Sarah?"

A throbbing burn pulsed in her hand as she pulled it to her lap. Marveling at how strange the wound felt, she held her wrist away from her, transfixed by the sensation of her cupped hand filling with blood. When a gloved hand cradled hers, she squeaked, as its match produced a white linen square and pressed it firm against her gash, the material slowly darkening as it absorbed her blood.

Pulling the stained fabric away, the Goblin King cradled her small hand within his. Examining the injury with great care, he traced down the jagged line of torn flesh with his thumb, ignoring her sharp wince at his touch.

"Stay still," he commanded with a whisper, "and watch." Leaning forward far too slowly for it to go unnoticed, he bowed his head, bringing her hand up with the motion. Until, at long last, his lips touched the very heart of the abrasion—a feather light kiss that had no right drawing a gasp from her lips. An impossible warmth seeped deep into her flesh. It radiated outward, spreading through her hand and up toward her shoulder, her skin tingling in its wake. As quickly as it had happened, however, it was done. Sarah didn't dare look at the wound, instead fixing her eyes on his. He smirked as he straightened. "Look down," he suggested with a boyish grin.

Her injury had vanished. Not a smudge of blood nor the tiniest of scratches remained.

Impossible—it was the only thought running rampant in her mind as her eyes remained locked on the unblemished flesh of her palm. Impossible. Even her thoughts were out of breath in sheer wonder at what she had witnessed. "How did—that's not—my God," she breathed, not realizing her thoughts had found a voice. Finally lifting her eyes, now wide with fear, she trembled, "what are you?"

He bit back his amusement. "Oh Sarah, would that it were as simple as just telling you." He slipped a bent finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. He studied his imaged reflected within the large pupils. He didn't linger long—he could sense her hesitation and released her a moment later. Rising from bended knee, he moved to lounge against an uprooted tree a stone's throw behind them.

Sarah was still cupping her previously injured hand with the other, staring intently at the blank palm as though she expected it to split in half, leaving a gaping hole in its place. A slight tremor slid through her body the longer she sat frozen on the rocks.

Impossible—the word was becoming a permanent fixture in her daily vocabulary.

Sagacity compelled him to reach for her, leaning the short distance to catch her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Sarah." When moss green eyes blinked innocently back at him, he met her gaze with sincere regard. "You have neglected your basket."

With a slight shake of her head, Sarah inched forward on her knees and arranged the small picnic of hard cheese, cold ham, bread, and two lemon tarts on the crisp linen napkins, laid over the pebbled shore. Embarrassment washed over unexpectedly. This was no feast—hardly a meal fit for servant, least of all a king. True, she had packed a bottle of wine and a jar of marmalade, but both had broken when the basket crashed to the earth, leaving them with their humble spread.

He looked over the meager fare and smiled. True, it was a far cry from the spreads to which he was accustomed, but she had packed it with him in mind. She was thinking of me—I commanded her thoughts. Pride swelled within him. "This looks delightful," he said, reaching straight for the lemon tart.

He took a slow bite, his tongue flicking out to catch a crumb at the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward, he offered the sweet to her. "Your turn." His voice was low and gravelly, coaxing her to partake of what he offered. A fond memory of her biting into a particular piece of fruit flitted back to him. "Next time, you ought to bring peach tarts."

Like a dance, her body moved away, the color returning to her cheeks at the baritone purr that seemed to flow through to her core. Pulling back from the tempting scene before her, Sarah stuttered, "No, thank you. I find I have no appetite."

He tsked softly. "What a shame." His head canted to one side in an almost bird-like expression. "Is there nothing I can say to persuade you?"

Shaking her head softly, she stood, her hand pressing into her core once again. "Forgive me." She spun away from him to stare into the chilled night mirrored on the glossy lake. What are you doing here? Her heart was racing again, heavy with worry. He—YOU shouldn't be here. Her fist flew to her mouth, suppressing the sob begging to be released. You know next to nothing about him, she told herself flatly, biting into the tender meaty flesh. Nothing good can come of this.

One pointed brow arched upward. He slipped the remaining bit of tart beyond his lips while he observed her, studied her, as a scientist does a specimen. What is my little riddle trying to puzzle out now? It wasn't often, but now and then he wished his magic could reach further—that he could see through the barriers of her mind to read the secret thoughts trapped within.

An ankle crossed casually over the other, and he stretched a long arm across the length of the log, his fingers drumming a senseless rhythm, stopping at the sound of her voice.

"Every night you visit me. Sometimes in dreams—sometimes in nightmares." Her voice was tentative, tremulous. "Neither of us understands why." Rubbing her arms protectively, she sighed a ragged, nervous breath—her mind and heart at odds with one another.

When the taciturn minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the Goblin King cleared his throat, hoping to draw those entrancing eyes his way. He was not disappointed. Her neck moved first, her chin touched the heavy fabric at her shoulder as a wan smile spread her lips—ah, those lips—still bearing the pink bruises of his kiss. What he wouldn't do to taste them again.

"Why did you come here?"

"Because, my dear, you wished," he drawled.

Displeasure furrowed her brow, pinching her lips as her head tilted slightly. "I have more questions than answers, but you—" Swallowing hard, she turned to him with an unreadable expression, her fingers twisted in the loose ends of her hair, holding her breath. "You must have reasons to be here."

"My reasons are my own," he said, placing a bit of sweet meat on his tongue. The irritation his words should have produced was halted as she watched him chew. A subtle and mesmerizing change washed over his features: a subtle softening of the hard lines around his eyes and mouth, the scene heightened by the low hum in his throat. Heat rippled through her chest as she watched how pleasure affected him. "You're staring, Sarah," he purred, slipping another bite between his teeth with prudent slowness, his tongue darting out to swipe across his lips.

Unexpected shivers raced up her spine. Scorching blood pulsed. Sarah shook the tumultuous sensations from her body. Desire smoldered beneath her faltering control and heated flesh, crashing through her veins like waves upon the shore. Lifting her head, she found his gaze, or what little she could see of it, fixed upon her with raw emotions. Hunger. Curiosity. Want.

"Come eat, Sarah." The command was kind, but it was not to be brooked. When she made no move to comply, he sighed deeply. The muscles around his nose gave the faintest twitch. "Please, Sarah, you must eat." Again, she did nothing—said nothing. "Very well. You have questions you wish answered, and I wish for you to share this meal with me. If you eat with me—allow me to feed you—I will answer your questions after we have feasted. Or," his voice lifted in nonchalance, "you can leave now, and I forever remain an enigma."

"If I wish you back—"

"I'll not answer your questions."

Sarah knew instantly this was no bluff.

A slow smile crept across his lips as he met her gawk, looking every inch like a starving wolf eying a delectable morsel. He shifted his position and patted the pebbly shore beside him in silent invitation. "I won't bite."

Smothering her pusillanimity, she chewed her lip and moved to claim her seat. Twisting her billowed skirt between her shaking hands, she waited in a fluster, her pulse racing. Every inch of her skin prickled in heightened awareness, singing at his nearness, begging for the merest touch. Finally, with bated breath, her dithered eyes met his seductive stare.

This is a terrible idea, her mind scolded, but she couldn't seem to keep her feet from tiptoeing closer.

He wouldn't touch her, not yet. This had to be her choice; therefore, despite his desire to wrap his fingers around that slender wrist and yank her down to him the moment she was within reach, he resisted. Instead, he maintained the appearance of calm across his features as he waited for her to take her seat beside him.

Defiant.

That is what she was being, she knew, but it seemed she had as much control of her person as one would feral cat, thus she found herself kneeling before him—not beside him as he clearly intended.

He noticed the deliberate choice and bit back a growl that threatened to become a chuckle. "There now—you're still alive and well." Long, elegant fingers lifted a piece of meat and held it out to her, his eyes trained on hers in challenge. A bargain was a bargain—but how badly did she want her answers?

Beryl eyes fell, darting this way and that, avoiding him entirely. Mortification burned painfully on the apples of her cheeks as her hands knotted in her skirts, her fingers aching from the brutal grip. Allow me to feed you. Her mouth opened the barest amount, her breath trapped within her lungs.

When several inactive seconds passed, Sarah dared to lift her gaze to the hovering morsel waiting just beyond her reach. His hand remained steady, held aloft in expectation, a nonplussed expression highlighting his eyes. Swallowing hard, submitting to her defiant apprehension, she hesitantly moved to pluck the small slice from his elegant, covered fingers.

He grinned at her. "There now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" Sarah chewed, sighing deeply in an effort to keep her heart from hammering a hole through her chest. With a dark look, he glanced pointedly at the spread, then back up to her in expectation. "I believe it's my turn."

She choked. "Wh-what?"

"I fed you. Now you'll feed me," he challenged.

"I—I don't think—"

"I didn't ask you to." He had her. He knew he had her. "Do you want your answers?"

"Is this a trick?"

His head tipped to the side quizzically. "Why would I trick you?"

"You've promised answers before if I wished you back." The memory of that kiss burned into her soul, flashing brightly behind her eyes. Lifting her chin, she finished with quiet force. "Well here you are—and my curiosity has yet to be sated." Not waiting for him to interject, Sarah shakily spoke with far more conviction than she felt. "I will play your game, sir. But I require one answer first—as proof that you will indeed stay true to our bargain."

"Shall we kiss to seal the contract?" His eyes were alight with mirth as he moved to do just that.

She pulled back, her look sharp. "I have set my rules, sir. Will you comply?" she countered, ignoring his question.

Before she could think to react or move away, he swooped forward and pressed his lips against hers, stealing a kiss and swallowing the surprised sound that bubbled up on her throat. He pulled back slowly, whispering, "Ask your question."

Hooded eyes stared back at him, her mouth still open from his too-swift assault. Her tongue darted to wet her lips before her teeth tugged at them nervously. "I would have your name."

His gaze followed her tongue's movements as his insides clenched and hardened. Oh, what he wouldn't give to hear his name on her lips, preferably screamed, or even moaned. But the damn rules—rules that had never been more than botherment were fast becoming the bane of his existence!

She had to ask this—an answer so forbidden to mortals it was bound with magic far more powerful and ancient than even his Labyrinth? He had been warned in his youth, before the crown weighed his brow and wishes consumed his days, of the pain should one even attempt such foolishness.

Impossible. The word clung to her person like a second skin, like a dampened pieced of hair clinging to the nape of her neck as she sat poised before him. Her expectant eyes burned with the fading flame of hope as she awaited the answer he could not give.

The impossible girl asking an impossible question, he mused bitterly.

Is it impossible? Her wishes—her dreams—prove the opposite. Why should my name be any different? Clearing his throat, the king sat back, spine rigid with pusillanimous apprehension, his face plastered with the angered indifference he wore so often. "As you wish."

Pain.

Unbearable, nauseating, searing pain erupted across his nerves and through his blood like liquid fire. His mouth hung open from the force, locked in a silent scream as he stiffened and twitched, the lust from his countenance evaporating as consternation took its place.

Sarah watched in abject horror as the obdurate monarch fell hard, his hands only just catching his juddering form. The crunch and growl of his long fingers digging savagely into the rocky earth grated against her ears, her own hand flying to cover her paled lips. A stinging ache burned against her eyes as they doubled in size; confusion and fear rippled across her nerves as she watched the terrible scene unfold. Her hand moved to hover inches above his shoulder until she succumbed to the compassion welling deep within her, touching her fingers gently to the cold, dark leather.

His mouth opened as he strove to form his answer, each attempt more agonizing than the last. He was breathless, his brow damp with sweat, his body rigid. "Gods below!" he cursed through gritted teeth, his chest heaved from exertion.

Slowly his head lifted. Sarah pulled her hand back as her tear-filled eyes locked with his. Platinum strands clung to his temple as he recovered from his struggle, the small beads of sweat glinting in the gentle lamplight.

"That," he winced with ragged breath, "is an example of the rules to which I am bound." He needn't have watched the emotions swirl and pool in her tear-blurred eye to know just how deep her disappointment stretched. With a snarl, he swatted viciously at the earth, spraying rocks and gravel across the shore to shatter the mirrored sky into hundreds of rippling rings.

All at once, he was on his feet, as though the nightmarish torment had been a figment of her imagination. A hand dug tempestuously through his hair as he paced, a feral growl burned his throat. "Ask your questions, I said! I'll answer whatever you ask, I said! AHH!"

A crash burst through the air.

Sarah screamed as a crystal shattered against the tree line. Suddenly, those wild eyes were upon her once more, his shoulders taunt with unbridled adrenaline. "I have broken our bargain."

"Sir?"

"I promised you a name that I cannot give." Had she not be studying him with an intensity that was surely indecent, Sarah would not have seen his stark brows shift—nor would she have noticed the way the shadows slid across the terrain of his near expressionless face.

The barest thread of thought, so delicate a spider would not dare to weave it, danced in the whirlwind of her mind. Snatching at the invisible string before it could be overtaken by another, she spoke: "You knew. You knew what would happen if you answered, didn't you?"

He nodded.

Taken aback at his confession—his honesty—her jaw dropped. A fresh wave of tears trickled across her cheeks. "You knew? You knew that would happen—and still you tried?!"

Inexplicably furious, Sarah reached blindly, snatching the nearest item, launching it straight at his head. Her anger adumbrated her reason. The Goblin King only just avoided the flying tart as it sailed past his ear to land in a messy puddle behind him. "I thought you were dying!"

"Sarah—"

Dashing away the unwanted tears, Sarah bit back the sobs that seemed barely restrained within his presence. "I thought—" she caught herself before the words trembled like her nerve-wracked heart, "I thought it was my doing." Her head fell into her hands, her resolve deflating. It was your doing! If you had not wished him here—demanded answers—

Her head still bowed, knowing all too well the power those resplendent eyes held, Sarah offered only what she could. "I am sorry. I am so very sorry for the pain I caused you, sir. Forgive me." Swallowing hard, she spoke softly. Sincerely. "I shall leave you now. Please, believe I never meant you harm."

Taking deliberate, measured steps to where she remained, he sank to his knees before her. His hands lifted to frame her face between them, thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. Before she could blink, he pressed his lips to hers, drawing her in as he inhaled her very being. She was swallowed in the command of his kiss. Her veins burned with curious fire. She forgot to breathe. With all power in the quest to capture her soul, his lips parted, his mouth like spiced wine, more potent that the strongest drink.

Breaking away with a gasp, his hands urged her chin up. His jaw was clenched, his brow knit in a pained expression. The dampened face in his hands leaned into his touch, as his thumb traced her lip, drawing her shining eyes to his.

Surrendering to his darker impulses, he captured her lips in another stolen kiss. The scent of roses clung to her skin, and he wondered how it had escaped his notice until now. She tasted of warmth and honey, but if she had tasted of ash and blood, he would not have hesitated—now that she was so close—so pliant under his touch. "Ask another," he murmured against her mouth, grinning even as she pulled away in horror.

"Are you mad?" Obstreperously she shook her head, her eyes round with disbelief. "I'll not torture you again! No question is worth such suffering."

"You did not torture me. Furthermore, I believe I promised you answers." Drawing her closer, burying his face in her neck with a chuckle, he waited. Savoring the feel of her twisting against his touch, he nosed her hair and ear, tickling her with his breath. "You smell divine." The verbal caress trickled over his tongue to trace along the edges of her heightened senses.

When her response wasn't immediate, his teeth grazed the side of her neck making her gasp. "Your questions, Sarah." Again, she said nothing, her strained breaths the only sign of her discomfort. "I can always make you answer." His tone was laced with mirth that belied his threat.

He blew a light breath against her ear, and she squeaked in response, pushing away from him—but it was fruitless—his hold was too strong. A devilish smirk stole across his face before he leaned in and blew another breath, then nuzzling her neck like a spoiled house cat.

Fine strands of untamed hair tickled the sensitive skin under her nose. Her face pinched and she snorted, her arms rising to his chest as she tried to push him away. A fit of giggles erupted from her throat, halting her progress, and she was forced to surrender to the operose laughter bubbling within her breast. This time no morose tears followed, only the melodious bells of her senseless laughter ringing merrily around them.

"Stop!" she squealed, her face aching from the strain of her smile. The relentless tickle of his hair on her face continued to assault her senses, even as her uncontrollable laughter grew painful. "Stop!" Pushing hard against his chest, she jolted as another wave of senseless howling pulled taunt her every muscle. All at once, Sarah was toppling backward, her fingers clutched ruthlessly at his frame, his arms grappled as they fell against the rocks.

The tumble trapped her beneath his lean frame, his knees on either side of her, his hands braced near her ears. It was silent. They were so close, each heavy breath brought the swell of her breasts to graze against his chest as he hovered above her, dark and dangerous. He knew he should move—the precarious position was as dangerous as it was inviting—only he couldn't seem to command his limbs.

You are not this woman, she reminded herself, as her hands slid with delicious, painful slowness up his neck, tangling her slender fingers in his feather-soft hair. He growled at the gentle scrape of her fingernails, and she let loose the tumultuous breath she had been holding.

Encouraged by her boldness, he covered her mouth with his. Lust built at the base of his spine as the kiss burned red-hot, so consuming he could feel his control slipping with dangerous ease. Still, his mouth slanted over hers again and again, his tongue stroking, taking, loving. Gods, he couldn't seem to get his fill of her. One kiss would never be enough. What he wanted went beyond this moment. He didn't want a single kiss, or simply to lie with her once. No, he was beyond that.

Until she surrendered everything to him, he would never be content.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I love reading all your reviews, keep them coming! Thank you so much for your kind words. I want to assure you all that this story is not finished and I have no intention of abandoning it for any reason! Feel free to message me anytime. Nika's Quill— none of this would be as good without your amazing beta skills! I love you! Until next chapter!