Chapter Two

Sarah sucked in a breath of heated air to scream, but then they were through the fire, and all that was left was a faint tingle to her fingertips and a cold weight about her neck, something resting at her breast that she reached up to and found was the pendant Jareth had held out earlier.

"Thank you for listening to me, precious," The Goblin King said now, tugging at the cord to release their binding and stepping away from her. "It would have gotten difficult otherwise."

Sarah blinked, realizing they were no longer in The Labyrinth but somewhere else. The castle? She went to the window, pressing her palms to the wide stone sill as she leaned out. The air was brisk, something like early autumn instead of midwinter.

And stretched out before her was The Goblin City and the twisting corridors of the endless Labyrinth beyond that.

She turned back to the room they had entered, gaze tracking from one piece of furniture to the next.

Mostly, it was like a massive studio, a combination of living, dining, and sleeping quarters. The walls were pillared with stoned but primarily slabs of thick cherry, carved with floral motifs and laughing goblin faces. Tapestries and paintings of all sizes took up every square inch of spare room between bookshelves and windows. The furniture was plentiful and looked expensive and comfortable, and the massive fireplace looked big enough to roast a cow.

Jareth stood by it, a glass of amber liquid in each hand, and beckoned her with a glance.

She found her feet moving toward him, slipping with her nylons on the thick carpet and fur rugs.

The Goblin King handed her one of the crystal tumblers when she was near enough, and she took it and sniffed, curious, though she was looking more at him. She had not taken in much of his appearance save his face since he appeared in her bedroom.

Now she looked at the rest of him, eyes roving from the tips of his flyaway hair to his tight wine-red vest, flowing deep green sleeves, dark red leather gloves, and matching tight pants that disappeared into knee-high black leather boots with a slight heel. He looked as though his leg coverings were practically painted on, and it took effort to wrench her gaze back up to his laughing face.

"Like what you see?"

Sarah lifted her chin. "You looked at me much the same."

"Yes," he agreed, doing it again. "You are a wonder to behold, in person, not in vision or crystal."

Her skin prickled, and something low in her stomach twisted with heat and need. "I thought I might have dreamed you."

"No, you didn't. You knew it was real. Not to be believed or understood by those around you, but you knew it to be real. That I—" he reached out and brushed her cheek, pushing hair behind her ear. "Am real."

Sarah stepped back and lifted the glass, inhaling again and noticing, this time, the botanical bouquet that rose from the liquor. "What is this?"

"Faerie wine," he said. "To toast the bond of our betrothal." He lifted his glass.

"Why do you have so much more?"

"It's potent, precious, and you've had wine already this evening. But still, a toast is customary. Drink with me."

She lifted the glass to her lips but stopped before taking a sip, pulling back enough to ask, "Are you using magic on me?"

"A little," he admitted. "But only enough to give you a nudge." He did not sound ashamed about it in the least. "Do you want me to stop?"

It was just as dark here as it had been at her family home, and only the small flames of candles and the larger fire were there to light the room. His eyes were like twin coals in the dimness.

Sarah licked her lips.

Instead of answering his question, she tipped her glass against his so that it rang clear, then downed half of hers in one swallow.

It was the most marvelous thing she had ever tasted, and by the sound that Jareth made as he downed his own, he agreed, a low growl of satisfaction emanating from his chest.

"Alright," Sarah said, taking another sip. "I concede that if your liquor is all like this, we don't have the good stuff."

Jareth laughed and set his crystal on the fireplace mantle, eyeing hers until she finished before plucking the glass from her hand.

"I have questions," Sarah blurted as he stepped toward her, reaching for the collar of his vest.

"I'm sure you have plenty," he agreed. A button snapped loose, exposing an inch of pale flesh. "Ask whatever you will."

"I—would you stop that?" Another button was gone, and now another. "Why are you getting undressed?"

"It's been a long day," he said, gesturing to the clock above the fireplace with thirteen hours on its face. It was currently two o'clock. "Sunrise is only a few hours away, and unlike popular opinion, a king has many duties they must attend to. And I do not sleep clothed." He shrugged off the vest and began pulling his shirt out from the hem of his pants, keeping his eyes on her all the while. "Of course, I also want to bed you."

Sarah swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "B-bed me?"

"Lie with you. Make love to you. Fuck you." He shrugged, then pulled the shirt clean off, exposing his long, lean torso. "However you wish it, I would like to be with you."

She was having trouble concentrating on both the gorgeous half-naked man before her and the growing warmth from the alcohol in her stomach. "But I need to know what it means, that we're betrothed. Why are my shoes missing? Why do I have this?" She lifted the pendant by the chain. "I can't take it off when I try. Why is that?"

"You must divorce me if you wish to be rid of my groom's gift. And I would have to give up your mortality." He smiled, exposing those sharp, crooked teeth of his. "Tell me, do you miss it?"

"Wait!" Sarah cried when he reached for her, pulling out of his reach. Her heart was beginning to pound anew. "What do you mean, you have my—I gave my mortality. What did that do? What does it mean?"

Jareth studied her briefly and then shrugged, reaching down to pull off one boot and then the next, speaking as he did so. "It was the most expeditious way to ensure you will live as long as I do, for I am and have always been immortal. Your mortality would have limited our time together. And I do not wish to do this all over again."

"And what is this?" She could not help but ask.

"The Labyrinth requires a King and Queen," he explained. "And a Champion? That suited it fine. I had the choice of taking you to bride or stepping down." He paused. "Well, that or be forcefully removed. There is much at play here. Many old magics."

Sarah's head swam. "You're immortal?"

"I'm of the fae," he said, stopping as he peeled off wool socks and cast them aside into a growing pile. His feet looked strange, long and white, yet still beautiful. "Your shoes," he motioned at her stockinged feet. "Are the physical representation of your fresh grief. I'm sure the court will be mostly finished devouring them by now."

She blinked.

"You don't feel it anymore, do you? That fresh, raw wound of new grief? Isn't it gone?" He tilted his head like the owl she thought he turned into. The firelight behind him cast his hair in a halo. "It should be, or near enough as makes no matter."

Sarah did as much of an internal assessment as one could when one's head was swimming with the effects of alcohol. But he was right. It was—as though Karen had been gone for years, not days. "No, I don't feel it," she confessed, then lifted her chin again, stepping forward and pointing straight at him. "Who permitted you to mess with my mind? My grief is-"

"A gift," he whispered, capturing her finger and drawing her hand to his face, kissing her palm while keeping his gaze on her. "One you so graciously gave to a species who lives long and knows little of the profound sense of loss that a mortal will feel in their lifetime."

She made a soft sound when his lips touched her, and he smiled, tracing fingers down the inside of her wrist until the cuff of her long-sleeved dress stopped him. "Why do you want to sleep with me?" she asked, her voice breathier than she would have liked.

"You are my betrothed. It is only natural. Sarah," his head tilted again, and she hated how much she liked it, how when he studied her, the intensity of his gaze was like a thousand touches. "You do want me, don't you?"

"Oh, yes," she said, unable to help the words. Magic, it has to be the magic. That or the alcohol. "I mean," she stammered. "Goblin King, I—"

He moved forward enough that she was crushed against his bare chest the moment his arm snaked around her waist. She did not protest, her hands resting on either side of where his pendant lay at his sternum. "You know my name," he murmured, his breath smelling sweet as the wine they had just imbibed and something more. Something Sarah desperately wanted to taste. "Use it, precious Sarah. I want to hear you say it."

She slid her hands up to his shoulders, fingers playing in the soft strands of his hair. Her heart was beating hard and felt half-lodged in her throat. She glanced up at him through her lashes and saw that hunger again, something fierce and feral that sent a throbbing heat to her core. "Why are we betrothed?" She asked instead of doing as he asked.

Fingers played along her spine, and she shivered. That smile of his was back. "Because you are Champion. There could be no other, and I—" that gaze darkened even further. "Too old to turn, too young to keep. There was much that bade me wait for you, but no longer." His grip on her tightened, one gloved hand cradling her cheek. "Say my name, and I am yours."

Her lips parted. "No fear me, love me, do as I—"

"No," he interrupted, his expression turned stricken for a moment, and his grip tightened further. "I am not challenging a runner anymore, and you are no longer so young you cannot hear the full truth," he whispered harshly. "I choose you for many reasons. The Labyrinth recognizes you as Champion. You are known to my subjects and feared, as a good ruler should be."

Sarah pulled back a little at that, and he let her.

"But mostly, my Sarah, I know you to be mine. I knew it the first time I saw you acting in that park in the Above. I knew it when I beheld you the first time in person, and it sealed the second I held you in my arms." He reached for the wrist of his left hand, pulling buttons cuffing the gloves, and sliding the dark leather from his fingers.

Sarah was mesmerized and found herself moving closer to him again.

When he touched her this time, there was a sizzle and a spark. More pleasure than pain, but some of both, and she gasped, eyes wide.

"You feel it, don't you?" he murmured, bending his head to press a kiss against her forehead. It should have been ridiculous and silly, but the touch was so intimate, coupled with his newly bared hands reaching for her face— "Give me some of your time, Sarah. Let me show you what life can be like with me."

The skin of his neck was close, and she inhaled deep. Incense and magic, yes, but something else. Whatever it was, it made her knees weak. "If it doesn't work?"

"You can divorce me whenever you wish," he said, the words like the wind. His palms bracketed her face, fingers playing in her long hair. "You just need to say, 'I divorce you,' thrice."

Her startled glance was met with a smile as she pulled back enough to see him again. "Why would you tell me that?"

"Because, trickster though I can be, I am not trying to trap you."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

"Right now? Seduce you. But in the long run?" His eyes glimmered again like embers in the dark. "Build an empire that will withstand time."

"And you think I can help with that?"

"I know you. Yes." Thumbs traced patterns on her cheeks. He stared at her for a long time, and she at him. "Do I need to ask again?"

She knew what he meant and swallowed hard, lips parting so that he brushed the pad of one thumb over the lower lip, causing her to tremble.

Whatever magic Jareth had been using on her, she felt it was no longer in play.

This was all about her decision, her choice.

He was not making it easy, though, half-naked and gorgeous, with an entire kingdom and probably unimaginable wealth at his disposal. He was offering a far more enticing temptation than she remembered from her time in The Labyrinth.

She reached for his chest, running a hand up to his neck. He watched her.

"You're sure about this? About me?" she asked.

He bared his teeth in a smile, and her breath caught. "Without a doubt."

Hesitating a little on the name so often said by her friends but never by her, Sarah gave him a shy smile. "Jareth—"

He let out a low sound.

"—consider me seduced."

Notes:

Hi, folks.

I know... what is Jareth up to? Hm. Do we trust him? I don't know if I do. But I'm pantsing this story something fierce. I have the budding idea of a plan, but I think it might be written before it comes to formation.

Also, heads up because the next chapter is going to get *spicy*

Thank you to those who have commented. I'm in the midst of my workweek and hellishly slammed, but I will reply soon. Know I've been grinning like a loon reading them 😁

Hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading, and I look forward to hearing what you think!

Cheers,

~Crimson Sympathy