He was distant, and more terrifying than she had ever seen him, looming impossibly tall as he pulled her up beside him. He lifted her as though she were no more than a doll in his grasp, brusquely, and with no real effort, but there was no joy in his victory. His face was set like some cold and ancient stone mask, the depth of his anger exaggerating every hard line and tight curve, celestial yet horrifying to look upon. Sarah shrank back from him the moment he released her wrist. He did not appear to notice. The Goblin King was enraged, all right, almost to the point of madness, by the looks of him, but not – she soon realised – at her.

He set her safely back from the cliff's edge with hardly a glance, and turned his attention to the stone itself, where Sarah had made her pained ascent, his eyes ablaze with cold and dreadful fire. With a twist of his hand, he conjured a crystal orb between his fingers, but this crystal glowed with some sickly orange light that pained Sarah's stomach the longer she looked upon it. She was able to watch long enough to see him take the orb firmly in his palm and pitch it, with what looked like all his strength, towards the rocky outcrop below.

There was a bright flash of light – the eerie, grinning orange of rotting jack-o'-lanterns, painting the contours of his face a dark and terrible shade – and a deep, guttural rumbling from beneath them. In it, Sarah could well imagine the long and treacherous climb she had faced, now crumbling away to dust, those ghastly black mouths that had tormented her giving one last yawn before collapsing in on themselves, one by one. She watched as Jareth sent a second crystal plummeting after the first, to destroy more of what he had not prevented. There was more of that awful light; more grinding, earthly thunder. She did not have the energy to witness a third.

She caught at his arm before he could send the next ball hurtling to earth, feeling the tightly-corded tension through the muscle there. Hers was a light touch, but it brought him to a stop at once. It was something of a relief to see his fury reined in. The awful crystal collapsed into nothingness within his hand. He had broken a sweat, and she could feel the minute trembling that had taken hold of his body, twitching akin to a wounded animal. He showed some reluctance, his breath coming in harsh bursts, but eventually he turned away from the cliff's edge, and from that blistering rage. It was good to release him.

The eyes that fixed upon hers were narrowed, the right pupil tightly constricted with the remnants of his anger, but they were, at least, lucid. "That you thought such things of me … that you had to hear such things, in my own voice-" His eyes widened. "You were crying …"

His hand reached out to caress her cheek, and for the first time ever, Sarah flinched away from his touch. She swiped her arm across her drying cheeks, and closed herself as best she could to the fresh pain it awakened in those strange eyes. She ached for comfort, then, body and soul, but he had hurt her too deeply. Her wounds were too fresh to face his touch, just then.

"How much of it was true?" she asked him. "I get it – the labyrinth wants to hurt me, and I sure as hell know my family would never say half of those things to upset me. Most of what came from them, and those other people, was in my head all along … but we're different – we're linked together." She swallowed hard. "How much was pulled from my mind … and how much of it was from yours?" Something was beating its way out of her chest, fear and sadness and loathing scratching wild against her throat.

He did not immediately rush to proclaim his innocence, and despite the detached nature of his words, the fact was reassuring. "I have lived long, as I have already told you. I have seen many things – the fire of Rome amongst them. I have loved many women, fae and human alike, in all my years. Perhaps I have not treated them all as well I should. I was young and reckless, once. I have overindulged in base pleasures: sex, opium, wine, to name but a few. I've felt my blood run hot in the fires of passion and war. I have wounded others, in true battle, and fought yet more in drunken rages, over some perceived insult or other."

His words slowed as he spoke, betraying possibly a small amount of shame as he gave voice to his own faults. "I have cheated. I have stolen on precisely four occasions – wives from their own husbands' beds – adultery – and, once, a purse of gold from a pompous market seller in Crete. I have misled and I have enchanted, to suit my purposes and to hide my true face from mortal eyes, but I have never felt the need to lie. I have never lied to you. I worship you. Give me the chance, and I will show you this a thousand lifetimes over. Forgive me, allow me to love you, and I will make you forget you ever heard such cruel words."

Her shattered ego needed more, and, perhaps sensing it, he gave a weak smile. "I can speak of only my own emotions, not a certainty than binds the world, but I can promise you this – I don't think you will ever have it in you to bore me, precious one. I am enamoured, and I am fascinated."

Still, there was that tremble in his hands, his throat rising and falling rapidly each time he swallowed. Sarah realised then that he was fighting the urge – perhaps the need – to touch her once more. To reassure himself, as much as he sought to reassure her. He had promised her safety from physical harm, and now he believed he had failed her – the words had, after all, cut far deeper than any knife was capable. She resisted her own urge to reach out to him – not now, not while his victory hung over them both.

There was fear, yes, but weighing heavier on her heart was bitter truth – not just in his words, but in those of all that knew her. Her own brother – just a kid – had been wise enough to accuse her of being too wrapped up in this fucked-up excuse for a fairytale to think of anyone but herself. She had been selfish to think that she was the only chip at play in this game of theirs. She had bet her family, as well, and when the Goblin King chose to cash in, she would never see them again. She had been weak; had lost a third time to his labyrinth and must now pay the price, but the worst of it was, it was by his own doing.

"I never needed your help," she said, as if he had not spoken at all. "You never gave me the chance to free myself. I know not everything can be fair, but I thought that … that you'd love me enough to at least let me try."

His smile, small and wretched though it was, now disappeared completely. "Had I not wounded you enough? Did you want for my other-self's lies and insults to rend you deeper still?"

"I wanted a fair chance at winning – one you've now stolen from me." More tears still threatened, but she willed herself with real fury not to cry – not in front of him. "Will you at least give me time to say goodbye? I know my family mean nothing to you, in the scale of things, but I promise you, if you don't give me at least that, I'll do anything still in my power to make this eternity as miserable for you as it will be for me, I'll-"

"A little premature, don't you think? There's still over an hour left."

Even now, he had to torment her with false hope. She felt a tight smile stretch her lips, and it was bitter. "Three strikes and I'm out, remember? You made that pretty clear at the start, and now, thanks to your 'help'," she spat, as though the very word disgusted her, "I have to pay the piper. At least you're happy now, though, right?"

There was a subtle tightening in his jaw, but this time, Sarah gave no retreat as he stepped closer. "You," he said, "are a foolish woman indeed. Do you really think your pain is your burden alone? I have told you that you own my heart, and still, you expect me to care nothing whilst I watch you suffer. My tolerance reached its end, by my own miserable voice's doing. A trifle selfish, perhaps, but I eased your suffering to soothe my own. Your 'three strikes', as you call them, don't come into it."

Another chance. She felt a sensation of both relief, and of utter, appalling weightlessness – of having the rug pulled from beneath her, so abruptly and so completely that it sent her reeling. She had been freed from whatever eternity he had promised her, but at the same time cast back into the perils of the labyrinth – that endless uncertainty, the weight of failure hanging pregnant above her head as the Sword of Damocles. For the briefest time, she had been granted an end – one she was not certain she wanted, but an end, regardless. Now, she was to be thrust back into this cruel game, and she no longer knew if she had the strength to face it.

"Oh, God … oh, God …" There was no air left in her lungs, and the ground tilted beneath her like some sickening carnival ride. She reeled; stumbled a little, but he was there to aid her once more, and she felt too weak to push him away. His hands closed around her shoulders, steadying her, but she could not bring herself to look at him. "I can't do this any more, I can't!"

"Sarah-"

"I can't keep playing this game any more – I'm done! I can't keep on pretending I want to forget about you; stop the dreams. It's been six years, and you've never left me all that time, you've seen and experienced all I want – it's almost like you're a part of me. You've always been with me, and … and I want that, but I don't know if it's enough. You can't expect to keep me under your thumb forever – I have a life. I have people who love me just as much as you do, and it's twisted to put me in a position where I have to choose between losing them and losing you, and … and I hate you for it! I hate you, hate you-"

He did perhaps the only thing he could, and kissed her. It was soft; searching, and Sarah pulled back from it at first, whimpering faintly. Her eyes found his through the blur, wavered, and then she pressed her mouth tightly to his, her moan giving voice to the tumult of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. When she ceded to him, he took a step nearer, and it was only then that she became aware of how much she needed his heat; the assuring solidity of his chest. Her fingers slipped into his soft hair, urging his face closer, kissing him; breathing him. He cupped her face in his palms, kissing her back with a passion, brushing the tears that spilled away with his thumbs.

As the kiss deepened, she let her hands move to cover his, holding them against her face – needing that touch. It would be easy to lose herself in that kiss, deny her problems, but in time, she pulled back, coaxing him to release her, and shaking her head sadly.

"I can't," she said again.

He bowed his head, lowering his hands to her shoulders as he rested his forehead against hers. "I know this isn't easy, just as it's been exhausting for me, having to choose which would pain me less: clipping your wings in order to keep you for my own, or else losing you altogether."

"This is impossible. I don't … I don't know where we're supposed to go from here." In spite of everything, she found a wry little smile curving her lips. "You're the all-knowing, all-powerful one, right? Any ideas?"

Jareth snorted. "If only. I fear matters of the heart are beyond even my power." He seemed to notice the way she stiffened and avoided his gaze, as he quickly corrected himself. "Matters of desire, I mean."

It was not enough to relax her. Tension drew her shoulders in tight enough for him to let go of her entirely, and put distance between them. There was nothing for Sarah to say, and so she stood in silence, more awkward than she had ever felt before him, her restless hands trying and failing not to wring together. It was clear he felt the same, the proud Goblin King for once avoiding eye contact entirely. He cast a glance back toward the still-smouldering wreckage he had caused, thick plumes of dust and smoke drifting lazily towards the sky. A moue of distaste twisted his mouth.

"I'm sorry you had to see me in such a way. Sometimes, I feel that, in my distraction, I've lost power over my own realm."

"It's always about power, isn't it?" Sarah asked, softly.

Jareth's eyes moved back to hers. "The infinite shift of it, yes. Though recent events lead me to wonder just how far it has veered from my grasp." It was painfully obvious that he did not speak only of the labyrinth.

I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.

Sarah found she couldn't acknowledge that request, nor what it implied. As troubling as his need for power over her was, the idea of how her own might still be growing was altogether too much to even consider. She felt like running again.

"I … I don't know what to say." It was the only truth she could put voice to, right then.

"Then say nothing." He took her right hand in his left, then, and it was warm, and grounding, and she did not object to it. "Are you all right?" His voice was more gentle than she could bear, his other hand moving to embrace her at the small of her back.

It reminded her of the way he had held her, all those years ago, in his grand ballroom – the way he had looked into her eyes, and that stare had been almost enough to make her give up everything but him. There, they had danced, and the outside world had ceased to matter, at least for a short time. Though fresh tears threatened her lashes, she could not help but smile at the memory, particularly when she saw a similar knowledge light his eyes.

"A difficult situation – as delicate as any dance, eh, Sarah?" There was a sadness in those eyes, too – one she half-remembered from when she had torn away from him, running blindly to find a way out. "How much simpler it would be, if we had never found it in our hearts to stop ours, back then."

She remembered soft candlelight and crystals; the certainty that he would lean in to kiss her. "I wish we could just go back to that room." The words were out before she could hope to stop them.

He lifted her hand to his lips; kissed her there once. "Done."

The change of scenery bothered neither of them – rocky terrain and orange skies melting, almost unnoticed, into high ceilings and bright walls draped with fine, diaphanous fabrics; candles, and crystals, and magic. Sarah began to smile, but gave the room only a cursory glance – the real draw of that enchanted time had always been him.

"A place outside time," he said, without needing to be asked, walking her unhurriedly towards the room's centre. "As much or as little as it takes for you to be satisfied – it is your wish, after all."

She had to laugh a little, and it seemed to cheer him also. "You've been so generous today."

"Hardly. I haven't yet given you anything for your birthday." It made Sarah think of his kisses; of the dizzying peak of pleasure he had brought her to earlier. She remained silent, though, conscious of her blushes as he continued. "I had intended to remedy that earlier, but certain other … activities … found a way of distracting me. I hope you don't find me too lackadaisical."

In that moment, she found him only entrancing. She could feel her heart speeding away within her chest; a growing certainty in the pit of her stomach that a great and unknown something was yet to occur between them. She took a deep breath, and could almost taste the electricity in the air – the same charged aura the storm had carried with it, only now, it was his sheer presence that set the very atmosphere around them crackling. She wanted to kiss him, but did not quite dare, given that sparking energy that surrounded them, feeling strangely giddy; as skittish as some small animal. She waited as he reached into his jacket, her eyes locked on his face until he drew out his hand, and offered it to her.

A small silver chain was twined between his fingers, as thin and fine as silken thread, but it did not hold her attention long. Once, he had told her he would move the stars for no one. Now, she saw it had not been true.

In the palm of his hand, he held a star.

Sarah gasped, and peered closer. It was a stone roughly the size of her thumbnail, of the clearest, palest blue she had ever seen, shot through with gossamer strands of pure white. It glowed far brighter than any diamond, casting its brilliance upon his skin, and seeming to dance with its own inner light.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just a pretty trinket. It's a moonstone – a traditional gift of lovers, for passion and for protection, so I thought it appropriate, but what's inside it is a force of it's own. It's magic, ever moving and never twice the same – pure energy."

"It's … it's so beautiful." There was something in that light that made her feel somehow full inside, struggling to describe aloud the way it tugged at her chest.

"Will you wear it?"

"Of course."

He smiled; stepped lightly around her to fasten it on her. His fingertips brushed the nape of her neck as he lifted her hair, and when the contact caused her to shiver, he pressed a kiss there in its place. When he was done, the light weight of the stone hanging just below the hollow of her throat, he came to stand before her again. The two of them admired it together, the magic playing waves of pale light over her skin.

Sarah finally tore her gaze away to look at him. "Is the magic yours?"

"In part, yes, but it never truly belongs to anyone – it can just be harnessed for a while." He grinned, then. "Like yourself, I suppose." His smile faded somewhat, as he reached out and lightly fingered the stone. "Though the idea troubles me far less with mere jewellery."

"But you can still create magic, right, even if you don't own it? You can still experience the power of it. Isn't just having something enough? Why does it need to be under your ownership – your property?"

He tried another smile, but this time there was no real humour in it. "That's a very communistic attitude to take, love. In that vein, why choose to own anything, locking all our belongings away inside whatever home we call our own; our private thoughts kept hidden within our minds? Why choose to marry, to put forth children, if not just to be able to call something our own? It all boils down to desire, and ego. I want you to be mine, and my pride will stand for no less."

"Is pride more important than affection … than the love you say you have for me?"

He shook his head, but they both knew it was no answer. "Enough. You wished for a dance, did you not?"

When she nodded, he took her hand in his once more, bringing the inside of her wrist to his lips and pressing a kiss there. Sarah couldn't help but smile. These small, stolen kisses came more naturally to him now, and no longer felt like he was challenging her to resist them. His mouth raised a pleasant warmth within her, and she gave a soft sigh as he relinquished her wrist, only to lean in to her throat. He planted a longer kiss just beneath the cool touch of her necklace, the contrast just above her pulse point causing her to shiver bodily against him. It was as though he had captured her heart in his mouth.

When he pulled back, he was smiling. "Come on, dance with me," he said.

There was no need for formality between them, this time, his arms coming to hold her around her waist, just as she wrapped her own around his neck. They made perhaps a curious sight, he in his shirt and everyday finery, she in her battered old boots and slip of a nightgown, but there were no other guests to steal even a glimpse of their moment, and no elaborate suit nor meringue of a ball gown to impede their closeness. The look in his contrasting eyes was the same as she remembered; the steps of their dance as familiar as they remained in her dreams. For a time, only the music he conjured guided them.

Yet, on the outskirts of her contentedness were her worries, begging for her to voice them. Sarah swallowed hard. To speak now would be to drag all the problems of that cruel outside world into this one small haven, but in the end, she knew she had to … or did she? "Could we?" she asked, gazing up at him. "Never stop this dance, I mean, if both of us wanted it?"

Jareth nodded, the ghost of a smile upon his lips. "I would deny you nothing, but the labyrinth and your remaining time left there would always await, should you ever grow weary of this." His right hand moved to cup her chin. "Do you want to live in this dream, love? You can ask anything of me – know that – but I would give you a reality, rather than this."

She shook her head. "No, I get it. I need to wake up, eventually. No more fantasies, even if they're easier to handle."

His smile widened, and it was warm. "I would grant you a fantasy, every now and then. I believe you're entitled. Your dreams are, after all, what has brought us closer – the only thing that allowed me to see you all these years."

"Are they what made you love me?"

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her once more. "I think you had my love the moment you dared challenge me."

Sarah wet her lips, lowering her eyes to stare at the less daunting sight of his shirt collar. "Are they what made me start to love you?"

He stiffened almost imperceptibly in her arms, his sure steps faltering but for a moment before continuing the dance. She felt the way his chest gave a sudden lift against hers; the way the arms around her waist squeezed her a little tighter. The kiss he pressed against her hair before he answered was strangely resolved; the words that followed perhaps lacking but a modicum of his usual control. "That, I cannot say."

He did, however, take possession of her chin again, urging her face up towards his, and there was no triumph to darken his gaze. He leaned down, and gave her the kiss she so needed. It was softer than she could have ever imagined of him, at the same time giving her everything she longed for in that one moment, and making her yearn for more. Through it all, their dance continued.

As he moved her around the room with confidence and effortless grace, she thought of how their last dance had ended – shattered glass and shattered dreams; the tiny old woman who had tried to trick her with all the familiar trappings of home. The music box that had held the fairytale princess in her flowing ballgown, the little stuffed fox toy that had so greatly resembled Sir Didymus …

"They were never real, were they?" she asked in a soft voice. "My friends in the labyrinth, I mean. They were just something I dreamed up to get me through the maze – that's why they disappeared from my dreams, and why you said they wouldn't be there to help me this time – why you couldn't even keep Hoggle's name straight before."

"True, love, but not something I ever wanted to upset you with. They were beings of comfort that your young and troubled mind called upon, and the labyrinth gave them to you – but only for a short time."

"Why friendly faces, though? Why not those awful voices?" She shivered against him, and was grateful when he drew her more firmly against his chest. "I'm pretty sure I couldn't have handled those as a kid. You and your labyrinth would have won."

"I can but guess, having no real control over the accursed thing. It acts as a deterrent for all who may seek to reach my castle, but mostly it serves its own purposes – to confuse and feed on the woes of all who enter its walls. It plays with the mind – as you've now seen – and I must play along, for the sake of my 'guests'. Perhaps it thought such reminders of home might make you want to admit defeat and return to the safety of your bedroom – the Gods knew I did at first – but you persevered, drawing strength from that which sought to break you." She felt him smile against her hair. "How I admired you, for that damnable tenacity, even then."

She gave a wistful smile of her own. "They helped me, but they weren't enough. They brought me a long way, but in the end, I had to face you on my own, just like I've had to grow up and face what I want." She tilted her head, thinking. "But, those others who were dancing-"

"My true subjects, yes. I brought you outside of the labyrinth and into my true kingdom, for a brief spell. Those you saw were others of the fae kind, like myself, but in other parts of my world you'll also find lesser fairies, goblins, sprites … no 'Hoggle's, I'm afraid."

"They were nice while they lasted … while they were real, for a while." She nuzzled her cheek more firmly against his shoulder. "You were real enough, though."

He laughed softly. "I've always liked to think so."

They danced on in companionable silence for a while, each content with the comfort of the other's arms.

Finally, she spoke again, fighting her dread. "If … if I do lose, what am I going to do about my family?"

He sighed against her hair. "Only you can decide that, precious, but I can give you as much time as you need. I've waited years for you – another few won't harm, provided you'll allow for me to see you in the meantime. Outside of your dreams, I mean."

"So it isn't a closed door? I can go between worlds, not just stay in yours?"

"Yes, but by committing yourself to me, to being my queen, you will ever be a part of my – our – realm. You'll be a part of me, " His hand caressed her back in slow, gentle strokes, as if trying to soothe the blow of his words. "The least of it is, you won't age, love – not by any mortal standards. Regular folk, particularly those close to you, will notice, in time. The growing power within you will frighten them." He pressed another kiss to her hair. "I've seen it before – other fae men who've taken human women as brides. There was … a sister, driven to her death with madness. It was … unpleasant, to say the least. It can't be helped – thus is the price of love."

"So, you're saying it'll only hurt them if I stay in contact?"

His outtake of breath stirred her hair again. "And here is where I become the villain once more, snatching your family from you. If there were any other way, love, believe me, I would make it known to you. I've no desire to see you hurt, nor to see those you care for lost to you. All I can give to you is time, and my own love – a poor substitute, perhaps, but all that I have to offer. I can grant you however much time you need to say goodbye, but eventually, you would have to, before they truly saw you."

Sarah's breath hitched in her throat, but she forced herself to press further, burying her face against his shoulder. "And when I made my … my disappearance … would I still be able to look in on them, from time to time?" As she said the words, the horror of it rose like bile in her throat – watching as her parents, and even her little brother, aged and died without her. There wasn't enough magic in the world to prepare her for that sight. "No … no, forget I asked. Christ, this is complicated."

"I told you the price was a high one, Sarah, before we made this wager. I truly am sorry."

This time, it was her who initiated the kiss, giving him what forgiveness she could with her lips. It was long and sweet, but even it had to end, eventually. "Take us back," she said, against his mouth. "Let's finish this."

He released a sigh, then gave her lips one last nip with his own. "And here I thought you'd finally seen fit to surrender after all."

"Would you really want me to?"

Jareth smiled, allowing his forehead to rest briefly against her own. "At this late stage? Never. My girl plays to the end."

The air felt cooler around her as he withdrew, and as the lavish ballroom soon became the labyrinth's strange and harsh landscape once more. Sarah saw that the temperature of his smile had changed, too – a poor substitute for what only moments ago had been genuine warmth. He had detached himself, again, into that more familiar guise of her adversary – one who sought only victory. Perhaps it was easier for him to distance himself whilst she was set against him this way, but it made things all the harder for her in the process.

"I must admit, your persistence is admirable, if not a little foolish, given we both know who will win in the end," he said, still wearing that cool smirk.

Sarah frowned. "You're far too conceited, Goblin King."

"As are you, my queen."

Irritation had already begun to thread itself through the brief peace he had bestowed her with, and she hated him for it. "I wish you'd stop talking like it's already been decided. If you were so determined to trap me, you'd have claimed victory when you pulled me to safety just then."

His grin widened. "Perhaps I find it more arousing to watch you actually fail – perhaps to make you beg a little. Maybe it adds to the anticipation."

"Maybe you're too afraid to claim me, in case your appeal wears off, before an eternity's out," she shot back. "Maybe you're scared of me hating you long before our time together is up."

His laugh was maddeningly mild. "I don't think you could ever quite bring yourself to hate me, precious thing – you forget just how much of you I've come to know, both in the dreams, and out. You've resisted me, all this time, but now your walls are crumbling, love. How you long to let me in. You need only say the words – give in; welcome that power which I hold over you, and all this nonsense can be put behind you … and I above you."

He was pushing her again, she realised, provoking her to the point where she would be so annoyed with him, she would go stomping off on her quest without a care, landing her back in his debt. He was toying with her – taunting her – and it really wasn't fair. He would always strive to have that control over her, but this time, she wouldn't stand for it. With all her strength, she pushed back. "That's where you'll always be in your eyes, isn't it, Jareth?" she snapped. "Above me."

He only smiled, apparently undeterred by her venom, and determined to infuriate her. "For a time, perhaps, but there are many other positions you know I long to bend you to-"

"Stop it!"

"But I've barely yet begun."

"Haven't you done enough? You act like this is all some sick game to you – one you're guaranteed to win, no matter how I play it."

Jareth scoffed at her. "I've given you more than enough chances-"

"And for what? So that you get your payback every time you watch me fail?" She flapped a hand, exasperated. "Your kisses? Your little power games?"

"I do wish you'd stop pretending you haven't enjoyed every moment of it. Never forget, Sarah – I know you have it in you to submit to me."

"You've never given me a choice! No matter where I go or what I do, or even what lengths I've gone to, finding someone who isn't you – you've always been there!"

He drew himself taller, and the eyes that fixed on hers were ice. "I only came to you at your call – took your baby brother at your command. You said my labyrinth was too easy, so I upped the stakes … at … your … command. When you bested me, I offered you everything, and you left me with nothing, but still, I came to you in your dreams, whenever you willed it. Even now, despite the labyrinth's new terrors, I have given you everything needed to win your freedom, knowing all the while any help might cost me my own prize of having you become mine forever – a desperation you have driven me to in the first place. I have been your slave, bowing to a mere mortal girl without ever being given reason to hang on your every word this way."

She set her jaw, unconvinced; unwilling to back down. "None of that's my fault. We wouldn't be linked this way if you hadn't given me your poisoned fruit in the first place. You didn't have to come to me like this – you could have just broken the link and let me go free."

"Ah, yes, the last selfless act of a man who has been so weakened by love that he's willing to sacrifice all but his last breath for it. How well that would have suited you, to loosen my leash for a time, only to draw me back in when it finally came time to acknowledge your own feelings." He shook his head. "Continue to deny me if you really must, Sarah, but spare us both the foolishness of continuing to deny yourself what you want."

She was growing desperate, now, reaching for what ammunition she could. "How do I know this is what I want? How do I know you haven't been manipulating me all this time, forcing me to desire you?"

His voice was as hard as one of his crystals, enraged at the accusation. "Rape of the mind is as unappealing to me as the physical act – a vile breach of trust, but if you still think me capable of such crimes after our time together, I will be frank. The peach has connected us, yes, but the only thing I'm guilty of is responding to your desires. You wanted me; I came to you. Your conscious desired a more experienced man to teach you the ways of pleasure; I showed you things you never knew existed, only too thrilled to see the way they brought you delight. You never called upon me to enact such things in person, and now that you finally have, we're brought to this …"

He blew air out through his nose; ran a frustrated hand through his unruly hair. "I have told you time and time again – I will never hurt you. I have done nothing worthy of being named the monster you think me to be." He shook his head again, his lips pressing into a hard white line. "Your words from earlier – if this is what you think love to be, I suggest you look up the definition."

She was going to cry in front of him after all – she could feel it. "I … I'm …"

In his own anger, he did not allow for her to finish. "I've asked only that you admit the same power that you have wielded over me these long and miserable years be acknowledged – that you say the words that will grant me my own equal footing, and still you refuse me that power. Every turn, every step, I have been your willing servant, catering for your every whim, and still you question my motives - my very character. Very well, have it your way, Sarah."

With no warning whatsoever, he reached out to her, and his hand closed abruptly around her throat.