“Greta.”
No polite “danem” this time, huh? The casual trill of her name on
his lips was more than a little ironic considering what saying his name had
cost her.
His voice was lower than usual, as if encouraging her to confide
in him. Yeah, right. She glanced into the pitted mirror above the bar, and
gasped to find him standing only a few feet behind her. When had he gotten up
from his seat and crossed the room?
Probably when she was trying so hard to ignore him.
He said it again, her name. More like a whisper, actually. But
closer and clearer than it should have been with all the others around them,
drinking and laughing…
Except suddenly there was no one else around. She was alone with
only him and the mist for company. She whirled around to face him.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Exactly where do you hail from?”
She leaned back as he pushed forward, until the edge of the bar
pressed against her spine. Questions. Of course. Luke had warned here there
would be questions if she allowed anyone to get too close. Thankfully, her life
was a fairly solitary one. Other than Luke, she had few friends. Okay, none.
Not that it bothered her. It didn’t. The risks of unwittingly revealing her
human heritage far outweighed any benefits that might come from having someone
to talk to.
Especially if that someone was a hot goblin with a penchant for
hijacking dreams, who also just so happened to be the newly minted king.
Just thinking about that made her want to break her fist over that
square chin of his, and wipe the confident smile from his lips. But this was
still just a dream. It wouldn’t really be her fist flying and it wouldn’t
really be his face under her knuckles.
“You know I never answer your questions. Why do you keep asking?
Why waste your time in my dreams?”
“You said my name,” he answered. He reached out, taking a lock of
her hair between his fingers and rolling it as if he was fascinated by its
softness. When she self-consciously tugged her bottom lip between her
teeth, his eyes flared and his gaze locked on her mouth. “You invited me
in. You gave me the power.”
He touched her cheek with the most feather-light caress, the pad
of his thumb following the line of her bottom lip. She swatted his hand away
before she did something stupid like lean into his touch. “I didn’t know what I
was doing.”
“How could you not know?”
The implication went unsaid, but it was still there. She should
have known because everyone knew saying Isaac’s name had consequences. Everyone
who belonged in Mylena, that is.
Well, she didn’t belong in Mylena, and loneliness had gotten the
better of her the night they met in Maidra’s tavern. When he approached her
despite the menacing keep-away glare she alway swore to protect
herself, she’d faltered in the face of his bright smile. Nobody had ever looked
at her as if she were beautiful and interesting before.
They’d talked for hours and before she knew it, she’d plummeted
into his trap. After she’d broken more of Luke’s rules than she thought
possible and reluctantly stood up to leave, he’d asked her name. Greta had only
reciprocated, thinking nothing of it.
Just call me Isaac.
So she had. Apparently, it didn’t matter if you were an ignorant
human whom no one had bothered to explain the rules to. She’d been vulnerable
to him. Was still vulnerable.
“It doesn’t matter why I didn’t know!” Her hands clenched into
fists. “My ignorance didn’t give you the right to take advantage of me.”
Closing her eyes, she tried to remember where she really was, willing her
consciousness to get a clue and—
Wake. The hell. Up.
“You only wake when I’m ready to let you go.”
“Then what do you want with me?”
His smoldering look went all the way through her. Her stomach fluttered
madly and she stepped back, hoping to God she wasn’t blushing. “Are you reading
my mind?”
He snorted. “I’m in your mind, getting to know every part of you.”
Her face burned with embarrassment. “You’re deluding yourself if
you think you can know who I am or what I want from spying on me in my dreams.
Therein lies a realm of fantasy, and while it’s an interesting place to visit
every once in a while, we both have to live in the real world, don’t we?”
“You can put up walls, Greta, but sooner or later, I’ll break down
every last one. There won’t be any secret you can keep or any part of you I
don’t know…” He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Intimately.”
Her knees shook at the thought. Intimacy meant weakness. Weakness
that he was obviously trying to exploit. She realized it now. His appearances
in her dreams…all that talk…craftily designed to subvert her defenses.
He’d implied he never wanted to be the king, but of course he wanted to be king. Who wouldn’t? He
was a power-hungry goblin so full of arrogance she felt like an idiot for not
seeing it before it was too late.
She would not—could not—give into the things he made her feel.
That way lay disaster, even if part of her was tempted to find out exactly how intimate they could get.
Frantically, she plotted. She didn’t just need to wake up, she had
to find a way to put an end to these visits once and for all before her will to
resist was gone. “Why would you even want to? Trust me, I’m not the slightest
bit interesting.”
“You intrigue me,” he said.
Greta huffed. She was nothing. Less than nothing. She had none of
the strength of the goblins, none of the beauty of the nymphs, none of the
magick of the sprites or the faeries. She downplayed her few curves
beneath a hostile scowl and multiple layers of clothing to keep others from
looking too closely and wondering if there was a reason why she was so
spectacularly unimpressive.
No, he couldn’t know her secret. If he did, he would’ve cut her
down out there in the forest by now. And if he didn’t want to get his hands
dirty with it, not even Luke would be able to protect her from the lynch mob
that he would send after her. “Get out of my head.”
He smiled. “But I just got here.”
“I don’t want you here.”
His hand lifted back up to her cheek. She flinched, but he only
pushed her hair off her cheek. She held her breath. Even knowing his touch
wasn’t real, tingles danced all the way to her toes.
After what seemed like forever, he dropped his hand,
looking thoughtful. “You’re so secretive and prickly, Greta. Why is that?”
“None of your business.”
“Oh, I think it is. In fact, I think who you are and what you do
is very much my business.” He stepped closer and she drew back, ready to defend
herself if he decided to try “persuading” her to talk. But he only gripped her
arms as if to pull her into an embrace. She tensed and put her hand between
them, on his chest. His heart was pounding fast, maybe as fast as hers, and she
could almost imagine that this was real. She glanced up to find him looking at
her intensely. And then he did pull her closer. Close enough to press his
forehead to hers as he whispered, “Reveal yourself to me, Greta. Trust in
me. Tell me your secrets, and I can be lenient with you.”
She shook her head. Deny, deny, deny. That was
standard operating procedure.The hard look in his eyes returned. He
dropped his gaze and let her go. She expelled a long, slow breath, unsure if
she was relieved or disappointed.
“We’ll discuss this again,” he promised. “Now, wake.”
