“It’s yours.” The words hung in the air. Her gaze darted around the cave masquerading as a bedroom. “Where am I?”
“Where you wanted to be.” He released the gold bangle, but he couldn’t pull away.
Eliza lay still, her breathing shallow, but she made no effort to escape. If she had, he may have let her leave the Shadowlands.
Her frown deepened and her eyes lost their focus. “I…I called…” She looked back at him as if seeing him for the first time and realizing who he was. “You’re him…but you don’t…don’t look like a goblin.” Her voice steadied as she tried to rationalize his existence.
“Looks are deceiving.” He should have recognized her straight away. Maybe if her eyes had been open, he would have…or maybe he would’ve been sucked in the golden gleam and taken her anyway. Eliza was no longer a child who didn’t know what she was asking. She was a woman who should know better.
“You’re the Goblin King.” Disbelief tainted her voice. She could have been calling him the tooth fairy.
Roan moved his hips against hers. “At your service.”
Eliza drew in a breath, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She needed a drink. She needed to get him off her. She needed to keep the crazy man talking long enough to get away.
“Where did you get my bead?” The nutcase who thought he was the Goblin King lay over her, speaking through clenched teeth as if he was the one being inconvenienced.
Eliza had never told anyone about the night she’d called the Goblin King. Yet beaded-crazy-man knew, and she was just as crazy for wanting to believe in childish nonsense. Goblins. The indulgence of a terrified child. Yet her heart refused to believe her head.
There was something about this man, something just beyond her memory, trapped in a dream she’d never forgotten but couldn’t quite remember. Summer skies and the warrior who’d helped her. No matter how hard she’d tried to hold on to what he looked like, his image had faded so only the outline remained. Was this really the same man? Where was the smiling warrior who’d handed her the bead and fixed her torn top?
She twisted her wrist, trying to free her hand without success. Her body was expertly pinned down by a man who looked like a cross between a Special Forces operative and a rock star. Dreadlocks filled with gold and amber beads that glinted in the candlelight and rustled musically with each movement. The sound was so distinctive and so familiar—heard only once and then repeated ever after in her dreams—that she shivered.
The man who called himself the Goblin King waited for an answer.
Keep him talking, make a bond, and he’ll be less likely to kill me.
She swallowed and played along with his delusion, not wanting this man to be the kind warrior she could barely remember from a dream brought on by too much beer. Her mother had given warnings about being greedy and ending up like the man who’d longed for gold and been given a heart of gold instead. Cursed to be a goblin, he was compelled to answer other people’s wishes.
Nine years ago she’d tested the story and summoned the Goblin King.
Eliza stared into his eyes. Aching blue. How could she forget? “You gave it to me when I was a teenager.”
His face went blank. Her heart skipped, then raced. The unchecked lust was less terrifying than this new, unreadable expression. At least she’d known what he wanted. Now…
She let the words spill out before he could shut her up for good. “I called you, you broke up the party. Do you remember? You sent the boys running.” The lights had gone out and goblin howls had filled the house. For a few minutes she’d lived in a nightmare full of screams and darkness. She’d never told her brother it was she who’d called the monsters. She’d never told him why, or what his friend had done.
“You protected me. I put the leftover beer outside to thank you. Do you remember?”
She remembered him. The faded dream grew stronger and the features of the man who’d saved her nine years ago became the features of the man above her. The full lips, straight nose, and blue eyes that would always be hungry. This man was the Goblin King.
“You took me to the Summerland and gave me the bead.” He’d given her the bead to make sure she didn’t forget. Had he? “Do you remember?” She willed him to remember.
The man didn’t blink. His eyes burned into her soul as if he was searching for a lie that didn’t exist. She’d gone to the Summerland many times in her dreams as a teenager waiting to see if she’d see him again. Not sure if she’d dreamed him into existence, but too scared to directly summon him and find out.
Eliza sucked in a breath but couldn’t release it. Panic swelled until her chest hurt. “This is a dream.”
It had to be a dream, but he had never been in her dreams no matter how much she thought of him. If not for his bead, it would have been easier to think she’d imagined the whole thing. But he hadn’t allowed her that illusion. And she hadn’t been able to let go of the memory. Now the warrior she’d dreamed of was made flesh.
“Why did you call me?” he demanded.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Steve. The party. The woman. The suits. The wine. Oh God. She had called him. She had called the Goblin King.
Again.
“Why?” He released her hands but still caged her body. He was a prison made of flesh, and he demanded answers like a lawyer cross-examining a witness. “I warned you.”
She hadn’t thought of his warning at the time, but the words echoed through her mind now: Next time I may not return you.
She looked up at the man she’d often thought of before life had gotten in the way and she’d given up on childish fantasies and fairy tales. His gaze was hot, the lust simmering behind the frown that scarred his brow.
“I wanted to escape.” It was the only answer she had. Living with Steve and his lies was like suffocating—it was only a matter of time until she died.
“Then you got your wish.” His mouth closed hard over hers, stealing the air from her lungs.
She pushed against him, fighting the kiss. The first time she’d called him, he’d protected her. That’s what she longed for—someone to make her feel safe, to care about her and listen to her. Not another man to use her for whatever he wanted. She hiccupped on a strangled sob. How could she have messed this up so much?
He jerked away as if her tears burned his skin. Freed, she lurched to her feet and ran. Ran because the memories couldn’t be real, ran because she wanted to wake up, ran not caring where she went. Her memories didn’t mesh with reality. Her warrior had been caring, where this man was harsh and dangerous. Eliza passed another man in black and gray camo. He reached for her and she twisted away.
“Let her go,” the king called out, his voice ringing down the rock halls.
She ran through candlelit tunnels. Her lungs ached, her head pounded, but then she saw the cave opening and ran faster. This was just another crazy dream, the dangerous imaginings of a desperate woman.
Fifteen feet beyond the cave Eliza stopped. He hadn’t brought her to the Summerland. This place was empty. There was no sun. No stars. No moon. Just a gray twilight that was both oppressive and endless. Twisted trees grew out of gray dust, their limbs a tangle of blackened fingers. An oily river snaked into the distance. She squinted. Did it move, or was that an illusion?
As she stood there staring at the bleak scenery, her feet and legs became heavy and cold, as if the ground was sucking the warmth from her body and making her muscles sluggish. She looked down. The gray dust that was the ground stained the white bandages on her feet. Someone had tended to her, yet she couldn’t remember hurting herself.