Chapter Five

A groan was ripped from his throat as she pressed tightly against him. Something hot and savage raced through his blood, goading Lionel to take more. His lips crashed over Carla’s, hot, heavy, and insatiable.

Sarah let out a tormented whimper.

It had been easy to fall back into routine, to spend the evening on autopilot as though nothing unusual had happened. She’d pulled together a small soup to eat, and had picked up her novel, like always. As if pretending would change the fact that the key to her backdoor had been stolen by a man who-

Chapter Four

It was a frighteningly nice car. The seats were plush and leathery, the air was comfortably warm, the stereo was gently playing something that sounded like Vivaldi, and not a single bump in the road jarred either passenger. She still didn’t want to be there.

“Tell me you’re just having a hard week, because if you’re always this paranoid-psychotic you need a keeper,” Jareth said, sounding halfway between a groan and a chuckle.

Sarah bristled, ignoring the goose bumps caused by an icy coat and wet pants sticking to her. “As a matter of fact, I am having a bad week. It started last night when I first saw you, and I doubt it’s likely to improve over the next six days unless you turn out to be some sort of recluse,” she snapped. She did not need a keeper! It was his fault that she was so off balance.

Jareth shrugged, seemingly unaffected by her temper, though the dim lights of the dashboard briefly caught the smile that played across his face. “Where do you live?” he asked, slowing the car slightly as another gust of wind tried to blow them into a ditch.

Chapter Three

It was going to be one of those days, Sarah decided early that morning. She’d fallen asleep sometime during the night and now had a terrible crick in her neck for never making it to her bed, her shop was frighteningly devoid of customers, the weather man was predicting a storm to hit later in the afternoon, and she’d thought she had caught a flash of blonde hair when she had been opening her store up. So far, the new day had not brought her the new hope she had been wishing for.

The door chimed merrily and Sarah whipped around, her heart pounding in her throat, to see who it was.

Liz gave her a wide-eyed look. “What’s with you? You look positively hunted.”

Chapter Two

Jareth wearily ran a hand over his face, then brought it around to massage the back of his neck. Every way he looked, he was greeted with boxes still waiting to be unpacked.

Moving out of the city had seemed like a good idea; there had been too many distractions. He had figured that if he put himself in a position where he had nothing to do but write, he could somehow overcome his writer’s block. His agent had snickered and said he was running off to the woods to find himself. Jareth had bristled at that; there was nothing wrong with change, and if something didn’t give soon, he’d be a very famous dead man. He could just picture the hordes of angry readers storming his Boston loft, looking for blood or books, whichever came first.

Moving to Maine had been the right decision; he just hoped it would pay off.

It had been difficult to explain to his neighbor and occasional friend, Hoggleston, why exactly he was relocating, and ever harder to convince the stout man that he didn’t need to tag along. Looking at the boxes, Jareth now wondered if it would have been better to let the old man have his way; at least he wouldn’t have been unpacking alone.

Bodice Ripper

Chapter One

“I think I’m in danger of losing a lot around you, Vivian,” Darrow murmured into her sweet shoulder. “My heart, for example.”

Vivian snorted in disbelief.

Jareth snorted in disbelief as well, unable to fathom how he had written such crap. Not even ten months ago he had been flooded with ideas, inspiration buoyed by the flocks of lonely women leaving stores with his books clutched to their chests. But the praise had tapered off and been slowly replaced by a discontent murmur. When was the next book coming out? Could it possibly live up to his previous release?

He sighed and turned away from his computer to look out the window, restless gaze sweeping over the sleeping city below.

Jareth had never doubted that he had drawn the winning lot in life. At 28 he was damned lucky to be a successful author, especially in a genre that was dominated by female writers. He had developed a wit and charm to complement his good looks, the women practically swooning at his feet. Not that they didn’t do that already, he mused; the name Jareth Corbett was whispered in reverence among the female population, usually followed by a giggle and one or two of his more raunchy lines. He had the world wrapped around his finger: fame, fortune, and droves of women vying for his attention.

Chapter Forty-One: The Labyrinth, Part One.

Oran stared at his desk in contemplation, a myriad of small hourglasses spread out before him. He turned to the newest addition, red sand steadily pouring through the device.

Bringing Karen and Robert Underground had been a kindness, but relatively unnecessary; he had only done it so that they could be with their son through this strange time. Now it was becoming a problem. The Underground was so heavily saturated with magic that anything from the mortal realm usually acted like a sponge, slowly soaking up whatever power they could handle. It changed things, not always a big change, but then, it didn’t need to be. Once any creature had grown accustomed to that never-ending supply of magic, it began to grow dependant on it. If the Williams elders stayed too long, there was the distinct possibility that they would never be able to go back. Toby was, hopefully, immune for the time being, and Sarah…

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Complications for Oran.

Karen Williams had come from a rather well to do family; her mother had drilled the rights and wrongs of hosting into her at a very early age. The young Karen had studied dutifully and now, many years later, had it down to an art form; this fork went here, that spoon went there, medical procedures were not a polite topic of conversation, and above all the comfort of your guests must be seen to. If the orchestrations of formal gatherings had been offered as a college major, she would have had her doctorates.

But Karen was obviously slipping.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Summons From Oran.

Consciousness was usually something that was gained in degrees, slowly lifting up out of sleep and into the waking world. Sarah was beginning to resent the fact that her dreams were hurling her into abrupt wakefulness. One minute she had been wrapped around Jareth, ready to give in to the instincts that had ensured the survival of her species for countless centuries, and the next she was jerking out of a nest of blankets. The loss of that heady pressure, of that utterly delicious outlet for the burning urgency that she still felt, left her pained and wanting.

Fiercely.

For that one stolen moment in those mirrored tunnels, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t sure she could begin to trust Jareth or his very nature, it didn’t matter that her little brother was slowly losing his mind and her life was quickly descending into the realm of chaos. The only thing that had mattered was the inviting male body pressing her against the wall, the acceptance of an invitation Jareth had been offering since the moment they had met, finally relenting to desire and knowing, beyond a doubt, that she was desired in return. For the first time in nineteen years the world had actually made sense. She was a woman, not a child or a hopeless dreamer, but a woman. One who had been rather enthusiastic about getting to know Jareth, who, despite everything else, was essentially a man.

Chapter Thirty-Two: Not the Best Excuse.

It was customary for the pupil to stay with the tutor, but Jareth had a feeling that the suggestion would not be well received. Parting again was hard but not nearly as painful, knowing that she would be back soon. Breaking the moment had been most unwelcome, but it had been getting late and there were arrangements that he would have to see to. First and foremost was an update on how things were progressing in Court.

Jareth’s senses reached out for his stand-in and instantly felt the faint annoyance that answered. He could commiserate; he usually felt much the same when dealing with the noble houses. Another quick pulse of strength brought the other before him. Haughty features, tight in frustration, looked to the King in expectation.

“How do things go in the Court?” Jareth asked, trying not to let his obvious relief at not having to sit through so many dry speeches become too apparent.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Reflections.

“You really have nothing to be so embarrassed about Sarah,” Jareth said from behind her somewhere.

Sarah’s hands covered her face, hiding its newly acquired tomato-red complexion. “My little brother just saw me being molested by my boyfriend; I think I’ve moved beyond embarrassed and entered the realm of mortified,” she groaned out from behind her fingers.

Jareth snorted, ruffling the hair at the back of her neck and causing her to shiver involuntarily. “It is the duty of younger siblings everywhere to walk in on their elders at the most inopportune times,” he stated, stretched languidly and then sat up, bringing her with him. “It’s for the best, I suppose,” he lamented, resting his chin in the crook of her shoulder, “there wouldn’t have been enough time for either of us to enjoy ourselves properly.”

Sarah, who had nearly calmed down enough to uncover her face, let out a startled squeak. “Don’t say things like that!” she commanded in an uncomfortable tone. What he was suggesting… it was just…

Chapter Twenty-Five: A Cautious Sort of Truth.

Back home Sarah’s room was probably dark, lit only by the moonlight spilling through her uncovered window. Toby was probably in the room right next to hers, ready to come get her any minute so she would tell him a story for the night. Karen might have even been walking up the stairs to return some laundry, or her father could have been knocking on her door to ask an arbitrary question. When that door was opened they would all see the same thing: an empty room, conspicuously devoid of Sarah. Even with the knowledge that bad conclusions would be jumped to or someone would become hysterical, she wasn’t entirely ready to leave Jareth’s darkened room. There was still the matter of how she had gotten there in the first place, and she had already thought up a few things that she would have liked explained. Since they had spent little over an hour Aboveground she could only ask for one explanation; it would be hard to choose which.

Jareth sat on his bed, looking calm but not guarded. Relaxed, she realized; there were always so many little games being played out between the two of them that she had rarely had the opportunity in which to see him completely at peace. He was something closer to that young man he had pretended to be in the parlor that morning, amiable and approachable. For the most part he seemed content to let her think, quietly humming a tune under his breath while she decided whether it would be better to wait until the next time they were together for her answers or not.

Chapter Twenty-One: Sarah’s Luck.

Very few things in life had the amazing capacity to confound Sarah as thoroughly as Jareth did. He was cunning and controlled and, above all, he knew his opponent well. The man knew (or at least claimed to know) what her dreams were made of, and if that wasn’t a reflection of the soul then she didn’t know what was. It wasn’t fair, because when it came right down to it, Sarah knew next to nothing about the Fae lounging on the opposite side of the coffee table. He wasn’t to be trusted or taken at face value either, but what else? She didn’t know, and it terrified her. In the end, she had absolutely no idea why he was doing any of this at all. She couldn’t rule out the possibility of revenge, but then, she couldn’t support it either. There were better ways to make someone suffer for their victory; of course, given her general amount of discomfort over everything that had happened, there probably weren’t many other ways that would be as entertaining for him.

Jareth’s eyes flashed like blue flames, content arrogance radiating from his every move. “Pay up,” that decadent voice said in a tone that was quiet, but carried to her ears all the same.

“No; I still think you’re cheating!” Sarah glared at him. It was true that the Goblin King was damn easy on the eyes, but when every line of his face conveyed a growing ego she just wanted to slap him.

Chapter Seventeen: A Warning.

She was in the Study again. His Study. It was cold and the fire provided no comfort, sputtering and dimming erratically. The room was silent, but not empty. If she strained her eyes she could make out those damned shadow-people flitting all over the place. One phantom seemed to browse the bookshelves while others raided the alcohol cabinet and rummaged through the desk drawers.

Sarah rubbed her tired eyes. “It’s like a never-ending nightmare,” she murmured to herself. The last thing she remembered was going to bed with murderous feelings toward the Goblin King, and thoughts of breaking the hourglass to ease some of her frustration.

Chapter Seven: Beginnings Part Two.

It had taken five weeks to find a spell that he could adapt enough to serve his purpose, and several more weeks to spread the news around his Kingdom sufficiently.

It had taken 76 hours to reach the full depth of his own power, and another 48 to weave the spell properly. His domain had spent that 48 hours wavering between two realms, being in both and yet neither all at once. When the spell had finally been completed, his lands occupied a space just underneath the mortal world.

He spent the next six days somewhere between death and delirium. Healers and mages could do nothing for him; by all rights their King should have died.

Sheer stubbornness alone delivered him out of the bony clutched of Death.

Chapter Six: Beginnings Part One.

Sarah woke up screaming; a name was on the tip of her tongue but not yet ready to be recovered. The side of her neck tingled where it had been brushed by an invisible hand, and the word ‘Soon’ kept whispering across the back of her mind. Disoriented, she pulled the bedcovers up to her chest and looked around. For a moment her room seemed completely alien to her, but as she blinked familiarity slowly crept back. The room was as it had always been, small but clean, with little furniture other than her bed, a dresser, and her vanity table. Some would call it Spartan but despite that she had always felt it had a certain homey quality to it.

Chapter Five: Nightmares.

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure where this new dream had taken her, but it was making her uneasy. In front of her was a simple dirt path stretching forward before snaking off into a dark forest. Something was in that forest, waiting for her. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she swore she could feel large predatory eyes watching her every move.

“Well now, let’s be logical about this. I don’t know if there is something in there or not, but still, I’m alone and unarmed, so it wouldn’t be very smart of me to follow this path,” she decided with a nod.

A cry sounded from behind her, a bellowing, howling cry that shook her ribcage and bounced off the trees, scaring birds into flight. Every instinct she possessed told her to run, but Sarah stood rooted to the spot. The only place to go would be into the woods, and as horrible as the sound was, the thought that something worse could be lurking between those dark trees kept her in place. Quickly she turned around, so as not to present her back to any possible attack.

Chapter Four: A Silent Web.

They say that there is a world between dreams and reality; a world made of hopes and promises that never come to pass. It was the sort of place where little children would never have to grow up, where fantasies could run amok, where there were no limitations or boundaries because it was made out of imagination.

But it had a dark side as well.

It could also be a world of bad dreams; nightmares where your fondest wish could be twisted and bent until it was nothing but a mockery of hope, where you simply couldn’t stop your darkest fears from becoming real because they were just as much a part of you as your good dreams were.