Chapter Ten

The Wise Man was old, older than anyone, perhaps even older than the Labyrinth itself. And like anyone else Underground, he was not exactly what he seemed.

It made Didymus uneasy.

Sarah was sleeping again, but her words were still racing around in Jareth's mind. Her story had been so new, and yet so familiar. Something itched at the fringes of his memory, plaguing and taunting him. He knew it was ridiculous to take her tale as anything but fantasy, but something about it had felt so right.

What was it about this girl that made him so confused? It wasn't like Jareth to get so disoriented; his control was unshakeable, and yet…

She was still flushed, even though her fever was finally breaking, lost in the vastness of his bed, and looking so very vulnerable. If those sweet eyes opened they'd probably still be glazed a bit, and her voice would carry the rasp of coughing. It made him want to take her pain away. He, who had never cared for a woman beyond the simple pleasures of sex, was feeling unaccountably protective.

Gently, he brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. "If you're not careful, Sarah," Jareth whispered to the sleeping woman, "I may be tempted to keep you."

"He'll never let you go," the Goblin King smiled wickedly, circling Sarah like a starved panther.

The Wise Man's garden again, she thought, trying her best not to let the devilish king at her back. She wasn't sure why her dreams kept taking her to this part of the hedge maze, and she was plenty certain she didn't like who kept meeting her there. "What are you talking about?" she finally snapped back.

"He doesn't know it yet, of course," he continued, ignoring her words, "but he's already decided to make you his." Uneven blue eyes regarded her from behind hooded lids a moment before his arms shot around her waist, dragging her solidly against him. "As if there was ever really any question; you were doomed from the start," the king chuckled, running his lips lightly over the side of her neck.

Sarah shivered, confused with his words and conflicted with his actions. It felt nice, nicer than it should, and positively sinful when he grazed her skin with those wicked sharp teeth of his, but she couldn't fully enjoy it. If he and Jareth were the same person then why did the Goblin King keep talking in the third person? Last time they had met, what had all that talk of crocodiles been about? And what was he going on about now? Last she had checked, the only thing on Jareth Corbett's agenda was hot, sweaty sex. A man who obviously loathed commitment that much didn't keep women, especially not one he barely knew; he gave them a few rough hours between silky sheets, then sent them on their way.

The Goblin King bit at the soft underside of her jaw, right where her pulse was fluttering wildly, then gently licked at the spot to soothe it. Pleasure shot straight down Sarah's spine again and again as he repeated the process. She had never been into pain in the bedroom, but a little biting had always been welcome. It made her hot in ways that she couldn't begin to describe; backseat fumbling and pawing at her breasts had never even sent a spark through her, but a few nips in the right places could have her falling apart in ecstasy. There was something primal about the act, something so raw and unrefined, as though he found her desirable enough to drop the civilized veneer and let her see the sensual animal that had always lurked beneath the surface.

Jareth stared at Sarah, completely entranced. She was on her back, spine arched and neck bared, making the most delicious noises he had ever heard. A whimper escaped her and her hips began to softly undulate, searching for the friction that she so obviously craved.

"She must be having one hell of a dream," he murmured to himself. But who about, a part of him wanted to know. He'd never been a possessive man before, there was no point in working up that much emotion when you weren't serious about entering a relationship, but the truth was that it bothered him to consider the fact that she might be dreaming of some other man giving her such pleasure. She whimpered again, nearly tossing onto her side, and threw her head back farther. The delicate column of her throat was pale, but flushed in excitement and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take his lips over such succulent flesh.

Jareth could picture the whole thing perfectly in his mind. He'd have his arms tight around her waist, not necessarily to prevent escape, but because he desperately wanted those gentle curves of hers pressed against him. Perhaps he would start with a few light kisses around her ears or throat, then a bite at her pulse point because the skin bruised easily there and it was his favorite place to leave a mark. And mark her he would, nips and lovebites in as many places as possible to warn others that this nymph was spoken for. He could just imagine that a bite in the right spot would make her wild, neck bared-

-nearly begging for more. The man was barely even doing anything and Sarah felt like she was about to climax.

The Goblin King moved to her ear, gently nibbled at the lobe and let out a husky moan. "So close, my little Sarah," he whisper to her, "already, parts of me are being called back. I'll be free in no time at all." One set of fingers, as elegant and glove-covered as always, moved from her waist and slid down her tummy, coming to rest at the juncture of her thighs, nearly wringing another whimper out of her sex deprived body. A wicked smile crossed his face. "We'll finish this then, shall we?" he asked, giving her apex a light squeeze, before disappearing with that infuriating laugh of his.

The charming little fantasy that Jareth had been entertaining dissolved the second Sarah opened her eyes. For a moment she seemed disoriented, as though struggling to understand where she was, but once she locked eyes with him the expression vanished. Her green orbs were narrowed in anger, and in a flash she had vaulted out of the bed, straddled his legs, and effectively pinned him to his desk chair.

"You irritating, arrogant bastard!" she growled, pressing her knees against his hips and clenching her hands tight over his shoulders. "You're always so generous with your affections when I'm trying desperately not to be interesting, but what do you do when I finally reach a point where I don't give a damn? You leave me hanging!" she seethed, looking like a wrathful goddess above him, hair wild, chest heaving, and eyes snapping fire.

Jareth wouldn't deny that he was enjoying the view, and most certainly enjoying their position, but he was awfully confused what the darling little minx was going on about now. "Sarah," he began, but she cut him off.

"Shut up and kiss me," she snarled, balling a first in his shirt and hauling him to her lips.

Silas Hoggleston and Ciren Didymus made odd companions, one being a foul-tempered and stocky old man, while the other was genial, lanky, and not quite as far into his twilight. Even odder was the ancient man that joined them, a gnarled old fellow with long white hair, who hobbled about with the help of a cane. But looks were often deceiving, for though his body was wasted, the ancient one's eyes betrayed a sharp intellect.

"Well?" Hoggle asked, bushy brows lowering over his eyes tiredly. The train ride to Maine had been less than pleasant and the last thing he wanted to do was sit there and plan, but action needed to be taken and fast.

Didymus shrugged, bristly mustache twitching. "I cannot say. They didn't appear terribly close, but the boy was rather worried when Lady Sarah took ill."

The Wise Man nodded, though it was unclear if he had actually heard anything.

Hoggle dragged a hand down his face. "Listen, I don't blame anyone for this, these things happen, but we have to stop it from turning into a disaster. I don't want to hurt the little lady none, but a bargain's a bargain, and if we lose Jareth will…" he trailed off, sighing heavily. "We just need to fix this before it gets any worse."

"Already his magic begins to find cracks out of its prison, thanks to her," the Wise Man cracked open an eye, twisted fingers tightening over the head of his cane. "You have wasted much time and opportunity, Silas Hoggleston; surely this girl cannot mean so much to you that you would be willing to risk failure?"

Hoggle gulped. No, failure was not an option, but Sarah was his friend and he couldn't be ruthless against her.

The Wise Man shrugged and got to his unsteady feet. "My magic is at your disposal, my lads, but it makes no difference if you are unwilling to make sacrifices." And with that, the ancient one disappeared from the hotel room.

"Sacrifices?!" Didymus snapped, uncharacteristically angry. "We've already made more sacrifices than that wretch could ever understand! A young woman's love and trust is not something that can be thrown away with both hands; it is blasphemous to even think of it."

Hoggle sighed with a heavy heart. "But if we don't?" he asked of his pacing companion. "Would you really want to see Jareth, should we fail?"

Damn him, Sarah thought angrily, working her lips harshly over his. How was it that this man could muddle her up so badly, make her react so violently? Sure she found him attractive, almost beyond endurance, but at the moment she wasn't even sure that she particularly liked him. She wasn't looking for casual sex, she wasn't comfortable with the idea of being connect to this aggravating man as anything other than his neighbor, she was too angry to try to figure out what was wrong with his memory, and pissed beyond belief that he had stoked such fire in her and left her to fend for herself. What sort of a man promised so much, then refused to deliver?

A sadistic one, she answered herself, catching Jareth's bottom lip and giving it a sharp nip. He created so many problems, sending her life into chaos. She wanted him and yet wanted nothing to do with him; craved being around him, and yet dreaded it, too.

Finally, Sarah parted from him, slumping her head against his shoulder. "You don't know what you do to me," she huffed, temped to punch him in the arm.

Jareth brought his arm tightly around her and chuckled. "I think I have an idea."

A/N: Well, I could apologize but I do that every chapter; 'tis the season to study your ass of, but thankfully my finals are now over. I'm traveling for two or three days next week, but I don't imagine that will interfere with my writing any. So what can you expect in the future? More Bodice Ripper, perhaps the first few chapters of Listen for Thunder (the much anticipated sequel to Dramatic Orchestrations), My Snow White Queen (a short story I'm working on for Garden Celandine), and maybe a few one-shots. To those who have messaged or emailed me: I'm sorry I've not responded yet, I have a backlog that I'm trying to get through, so please don't think I'm ignoring you or anything.

This chapter is dedicated to Sculder the Goblin Queen, as an early birthday present. I hope this makes you happy!

Thanks for the reviews everyone, I don't know how I would get anything done without your encouragement!

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Disclaimer: I barely even claim to own the story, seeing as you can find most of it in just about any romance novel you choose to pick up.