A Tale of Two Goblins

chapter Four



I wasted no time in throwing on a pair of panties, jeans, a bra and an oversized sweatshirt. I grabbed the Op 6 (a gun most similar to a 9mm Glock but loaded with dragon blood bullets instead of lead —dragon’s blood being toxic to any Netherworld creatures) from underneath my mattress and slid it into the waist of the back of my pants, the way I’d seen Knight do so many times. Slipping on my Reef thongs, I grabbed my keys and headed for my Wrangler which was luckily parked just outside my apartment.

I beeped the car unlocked with my remote, hoisted myself into the driver’s seat and tore out of my spot, headed for Shamrock Street. I could see the numbers 3467 in my head as if the imprint of Knight’s door was forever burned into my subconscious. I could only hope it was the right address and not some trick of my mind. I wouldn’t allow myself to ponder whether I’d just had a meaningless nightmare. Assumptions led to dead people and I wasn’t about to include Knight in that thought. Better to be too careful.

There was no one on the road at this hour which was just as well since I was driving like a demon on Bayn, the Netherworld’s version of speed. Unfortunately, Shamrock Street was on the opposite end of Splendor so I’d just have to drive that much faster to get there before Knight succumbed to whatever the Dreamstalker was doing to him.

Images of Knight being pummeled into a bloody mess continued to plague me, reinventing themselves into a myriad of bloody possibilities until I wanted to scream. Hoping to find a distraction, I turned on the radio and tried to focus on the inane chatter of the DJ. I took a turn a little too sharply and the tires squealed in protest. No matter, I was almost to Shamrock.

When I turned on Shamrock, it was like I was in slow motion—like I’d just entered my nightmare. Everything was as I’d seen it—a wide street with various cars interrupting the concrete line of the curb. Dark oak trees dominated either side of the street, growing out of the ground like gnarled and deformed hands. I didn’t need to look at the house numbers to know which was Knight’s—it was at the end of the street, on the right with the numbers 3467 vertically embossed on the door.

I stepped on the gas and turned the headlights off, not wanting to draw attention to myself. It was tough to see, especially since any moonlight was prohibited from helping me because the oak trees created an umbra of darkness above me. I peered out at the row of houses and recognizing Knight’s townhouse, pulled over. No lights illuminated the windows—it was quiet, deathly in its serenity.

Even though there was an open spot directly in front of Knight’s house, I parked the Wrangler at the end of the street, not wanting to alert the Dreamstalker to the fact that I was outside. I killed the engine and opened the door, hopping down on the concrete. I kicked off my thongs and checked my waistband for the Op 6. Feeling the coldness of steel reassured me, and I gulped as I started for the townhouse barefoot. I didn’t lock the Wrangler’s doors—in case we needed to make a quick escape.

I tip toed to the door and fisted my hand, shaking it until a mound of fairy dust emerged from my palm. It felt like clutching glitter, and some lustrous flakes escaped my palm, twinkling in the shards of moonlight as they danced through the night air and landed on the ground. I opened my palm and leaned down until I was eye level with the doorknob. Then I closed my eyes, imagining the door unlocking and opening with a soundproof shield so as not to enlighten anyone as to what I was up to. I blew the particles and opened my eyes, watching them sail through the still air and penetrate the keyhole. The knob turned to the left and didn’t make a sound. The door opened as if a ghost were bidding me entrance.

Pulling the Op 6 from my waistband, I held it up against my face and continued forward, the cold of the concrete assaulting my feet and wending its way up my legs like a rash. I entered Knight’s house and blinked against the intense darkness. Even though it had been dark outside, the few glints of moonlight forcing themselves through the tree branches had seemed like the sun compared to the velvet blackness of Knight’s house. I could have whipped up some fairy dust and magicked myself night vision but I was too afraid of losing my focus—situations like these didn’t allow for a lack of focus.

Instead, I sidled along the wall, my Op 6 clutched in my hands as my heart hammered through my ears, the sound as deafening as a roaring wave. That was when I realized the only noise I could hear was my heart—there were no sounds of struggling, no sounds of escaping, no sounds of anything. I had to swallow the sudden nausea that overcame me—silence could mean Knight was dead, that I was too late. But, I wouldn’t think of that, I couldn’t allow myself to even consider it. I forced myself down the hallway, knowing where his bedroom was, where I might be confronted with a scene that would forever burn itself in my memory.

His bedroom door was closed. I took a deep breath, gripped the gun even tighter and pivoted on my left foot until I was directly in front of the door. Then I silently counted to three, turned the doorknob and dropped to my knees (so someone shooting at the door wouldn’t take my head off), aiming the gun into the darkness. Nothing.

I stood up and with my gun held arm’s length in front of me, I checked the perimeter of the room, noticing a bathroom just beyond the bed. The bed…Knight wasn’t in it and from what I could tell in the sliver of moonlight eclipsing the narrow slit of the curtains, there wasn’t any blood staining the sheets. Yes, the blankets were rumpled but…no Knight. I started for the bathroom when I heard the sounds of something big, and that something big was moving fast. Before I had the chance to respond, it bowled into me and knocked me clear across the room. I let out a scream as my Op 6 flew out of my hand and skidded across the floor, coming to a stop underneath the bed. Dammit!

I braced myself for my attacker and felt him atop me as soon as I turned onto my back. Remembering my training, I went for his eyes.

“Dulcie, for f*ck’s sake!” Knight screamed as he avoided my fingers.

“Knight!” I gasped and pulled away from him, relieved my fingers had just missed his eyes. Instead, I’d landed a pretty good scratch to the side of his face. “You aren’t dead?” I whispered.

“Dead?” he repeated, shaking his head. “No, but I came close to joining ranks with Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles.” He paused for a minute and then glanced at me again. “What the hell are you doing breaking in here and then pulling a Three Stooges on me?”

“Going for the eyes is the first thing you learn in self-defense training,” I started and then remembering the fact that the Dreamstalker might still be in our proximity, I immediately lunged for my gun which was still underneath the bed. After grabbing it, I lurched to my feet. “Where the hell is the Dreamstalker?”

“Calm down, Curly, I’m alone.”

I faced him but didn’t drop my gun. “No one attacked you tonight?”

Knight was silent a moment before a smile appeared on his lips. “Just you.”

I gulped and felt the heat of complete and total mortification flood my cheeks. It had been a nightmare, just a meaningless, innocuous fabrication of my mind. A fabrication that had led me to breaking and entering and in the process, I’d nearly blinded Knight. “Shit,” I began.

“Shit?” Knight repeated and turned on the light. I blinked against the sudden attack on my retinas and squinted up at him, noticing a trail of blood coursing down his temple where I’d clawed him.

“I thought you were being attacked,” I said in a small voice and turned for the bathroom, where I noticed a hand towel on the towel rack. I grabbed it and didn’t miss my reflection in the mirror. I was completely white, any trace of color in my face drained. A sheen of sweat highlighted my forehead, and I had to catch my breath to force the adrenalin that was currently pumping through me to dissipate. I sighed a deep breath and remembering Knight and his bleeding wound, approached him with an embarrassed smile. He leaned down, and I held the towel up to the contusion, applying pressure to get the blood to ebb.

“Those towels were expensive,” he said.

“Well, luckily for you, blood comes out in cold water.”

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” he said but his voice wasn’t angry.

I nodded. “That’s fair enough.”

He took the towel from me, apparently uncomfortable with bending down to accept my ministrations. “Let’s get some coffee and start from the beginning.” He started for the hallway with me on his tail. Turning on another light in the hall, he led me into the kitchen, where I took a seat at the bar.

For the first time that evening, I had enough of my wits to take in Knight’s house. It was completely and totally modern, just like I’d imagined it would be. A black leather sofa dominated the living room and the black and white New York skyline wall art behind it merely added to the starkness. A white sheepskin rug and a glass coffee table were the only other items to share the room. Oh, and the enormous flat screen TV.

I turned my attention back to Knight and watched him starting a pot of coffee. That was when I realized he was dressed only in a pair of navy blue boxer shorts. His naked chest with its incredible proportions and the scar running across one of his pecs met me like an old friend. I remembered first seeing it when we’d been en route to Dagan’s S&M club, Payne. Knight had told me a were had been at fault but I’d never really gotten the gory details. There had been something in his body language that hinted to the fact that it wasn’t a pleasant memory.

Knight’s deep chuckle pulled me from my reverie, and I realized I’d been zoning out, staring at his midsection. I glanced up at him and frowned. He was just temptation rolled into one luscious package.

“Can’t you put on some clothes?” I grumbled.

“Sorry, Lady, you chose to break into my house—this is how I sleep.”

“I didn’t break into your house,” I snapped and then caught myself. “Well, I did, but it was only to defend you from the Dreamstalker.”

Knight nodded and folded his arms across his chest, hiding my view of his scar. His eyes were smiling, as if he was amused with the whole situation; as if he’d chosen to spend his evening defending himself from a home intrusion.

“This is where it would be good to start from the beginning,” he said.

So, I did. I described my nightmare in vivid detail, down to the fact that I could see the numbers of his house in my mind. And that was the part of my story that struck me the hardest. How could I have known where Knight lived? “It wasn’t like you ever told me what the numbers were,” I continued. “You just told me you lived on Shamrock Street.”

Knight shrugged, acting as though there was nothing unusual at all. “Maybe you had my full address stored in your subconscious—you could have seen a letter with the address, or maybe Sam told you.”

I shook my head, anger suddenly overtaking me. “How would I have gotten my hands on your mail?” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “And I hate to break your self-centered bubble, Knight, but Sam and I don’t waste our time talking about you.” Okay, that was a lie if ever I’d said one but I had some face to save. And the guy was cocky as all get out so he deserved it.

Seemingly disregarding the direction of our conversation, he opened his cupboard and pulled out two white mugs before glancing at me. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Milk and sugar.”

We both were silent as he poured milk into my cup of coffee, followed by two spoonfuls of sugar before stirring it. He handed me the cup and watched me for a second or two before turning to tend to his own. “So, back to the Dreamstalker…you thought I was being murdered?”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead, I cradled the coffee cup in my hands, allowing the heat to warm me.

Knight glanced at me over his shoulder while he poured himself a cup of black coffee, not pausing to add sugar or milk. “So, you drove over here and took your life into your hands?”

I was quiet as I considered it. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

He faced me and took a sip of his coffee, not waiting for it to cool. But, I wasn’t surprised—the fact that heat didn’t bother him was a trait of his that was already in the Loki list of abilities I kept on him. I think it was around number five or so.

“It didn’t occur to you to call the ANC?”

Hmm, I hadn’t even considered calling the ANC. The next thought that ram-rodded my mind was whether or not he was judging me. Did he think I’d made a mistake in not reporting it to the ANC? If he did, he had an argument coming. “I didn’t have a lot of time to think, Knight,” I blurted out.

He appeared unfazed. “So, it looks like I’m indebted to you for saving my life yet again?”

He was referring to the time I’d had to make a decision between letting Quillan escape or acting as backup for Knight. I’d let Quill go and I’d never forgiven myself for it. “I don’t want to get into that subject,” I began, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I know you don’t, Dulce, so we won’t. But, I do want to say thanks…again.” His gaze was so intense, it was like he was looking through me. Finally he smiled. “You definitely have my back.”

I cocked my head and took a sip of the coffee. “I guess you could say that.”

He leaned against the counter, directly in front of me. He held his coffee but made no motion to sip it and instead just watched me. “You are braver than most men I’ve worked with, Dulcie.”

“Brave or stupid?” I laughed but the laugh was wiped clean off my face when I brought my eyes back to his.

“Brave,” he said in a very deep voice, almost gravelly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I started and dropped my attention to my shaking hands. I wasn’t sure if I was shaking from left-over adrenalin or due to the fact that Knight was staring at me so blatantly. I could feel myself shrinking underneath his gaze and didn’t like the feeling so I forced myself to meet his stare.

“Why?” he insisted, finally taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes never left mine.

“Because it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

Ergh, the “fun” was about to start. “Can’t you just accept the fact that I forced myself out of bed at two a.m. to come and save your ass? Nothing is ever easy with you.”

“Can’t you accept the fact that I want nothing more than to feel you writhing underneath me?” Knight asked with a wicked smile, and I felt my stomach disintegrate. “Nothing is ever easy with you.”

“Touché,” I said and stood up, starting for the door. I had the sudden urge to escape, to withdraw into the safety of my car and get the hell home. “Well, seeing as how you’re fine, I guess I can be going.”

“Nope.” He was incredibly fast and was in front of me before I could even take another step.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded, shocked. He’d moved almost as fast as Bram had in the limo—well, not quite that fast but fast enough to be concerned.

“Add it to your list of my Loki abilities,” Knight said in a dismissive tone. “You aren’t going anywhere. Not at this hour and not when you’re still shaken up.”

“I’m fine,” I said although I wasn’t sure I was. I felt like I needed a long soak in a hot bath and afterwards an even longer nap.

“I’m not taking any chances with you out there alone.”

“So follow me home.”

“It’s too cold outside.”

“It’s sixty degrees. Any more excuses?”

He laughed. “I’m fresh out. But, that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t leaving.”

I didn’t say anything more but started past him. He just sidestepped me and grabbed hold of my upper arms. “Don’t make me hold you kicking and screaming.”

I pulled out of his grip and faced him with my hands on my hips and said nothing for a second or two as I battled with what to say. “I’m not going to have sex with you, Knight, so if that’s the reason you’re forcing me to stay, you might as well let me go.”

His jaw was tight. “You think that’s the reason I won’t let you leave?”

I shrugged. “Eight ball’s sources say yes.”

He chuckled. “Dulcie, we both know I want nothing more than to have wild, raw sex with you, but that has nothing to do with my decision. It’s obvious you’re still freaked out over your nightmare—you’re shaking so bad you look like you have palsy. You need company tonight.”

I attempted to push him aside but it was like pushing a wall. “I’m fine.”

He grabbed hold of my arms again and turned me to face him. “Do you trust me?”

Hmm, trust was a tough subject. I’d trusted Jack and look where that had led me. Moreover, trust was anything but black and white—there were levels of trust. And, based on the fact that Knight and I were partners, I guess I had to trust him to an extent. “I guess so.”

His eyes were caring, opened wide in their blue depths. He took my hand and squeezed it. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Feeling myself cornered with no way out, I exhaled. Well, the truth of the matter was it was late, and I was tired and didn’t want to drive all the way back to my house. And, yes, I was still afraid I’d have another nightmare. “Do you have a guest room?” I asked in a tired, defeated voice.

“I do but there isn’t any furniture in it.” He smiled.

“Of course there isn’t.”

“Do you trust me or don’t you?”

I sighed. “I trust you.”

“Then sleep in my bed. You have my word that I won’t try a thing. But, all the adrenaline I wasted when you attacked me is taking its toll and I’m tired.” He stepped aside and motioned to the hallway. “After you.”

Shaking my head, I started down the hallway and turned toward his bedroom. The thought of sleeping next to him was a strange one. I mean, on the one hand I was afraid—afraid of the burgeoning feelings I had for Knight—especially when I didn’t think it was a good idea to feel anything for him. And on the other hand, I wanted nothing more than to feel his large hands all over my body—he was awakening sexual desires within me that I’d been repressing for years, ever since Jack had done his damage.

“Get in my bed and take your clothes off,” Knight’s voice was a whisper behind me.

“I thought I told you…”

“Trust, Dulcie, trust.”

I set the Op 6 down on his dresser and considered my options. He had a point—I couldn’t exactly sleep in jeans—well, more pointedly, it wouldn’t be comfortable. But, just because I was going to strip down didn’t mean he had to witness the whole thing. “Can I have some privacy please?”

“Of course,” he said with a secretive smile and rather than exiting the room, merely turned to face the wall.

I wasn’t in the mood to argue and, instead, just approached the bed, tearing off my sweatshirt and jeans. I checked behind my shoulder to make sure Knight was still facing the wall and then hurled myself under the covers in record time, just in case he turned around early.

“Alright, I’m decent,” I said.

He turned to face me with a smile that sent shivers racing up my spine. I was in Knight’s bed and we were both half naked. Granted, I didn’t think anything would happen, but the thought was enough to cause a flurry of anxiety in my stomach. Knight didn’t say anything but headed for the bed, his eyes on mine the entire time. He pulled the covers aside and slid in next to me, his body as scorching hot as the desert in the middle of summer. Even so, I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. I turned on my side, away from him.

“Keep your boxers on,” I said.

“Wasn’t planning on removing them.” He rolled over until he was facing me—I could tell by the fact that his breath was fanning across my cheek and shoulder and giving me goosebumps.

“So, tell me more about the Dreamstalker. Do you think the dream was a warning?”

I snuggled into the covers and closed my eyes, suddenly feeling extremely tired, aided no doubt by the warmth radiating from him. He was like a heater. “I thought you said you were tired?”

He chuckled. “It passed. Just humor me, will you?”

“I think it was just a nightmare.”

I gulped at the feel of his hands on my back. “You have knots in your back…tension knots.”

I didn’t say anything but rolled onto my stomach, thinking nothing would feel better than a backrub ala Knight. Remembering how great Knight’s hands had been on my calf cramp, I reminded myself that a massage didn’t have to be sexual. People got massages all the time, right? How was this any different? Not wanting to face the lie in that statement, I merely closed my eyes and tried to focus on sleeping.

I felt Knight pull the covers away, and the cold air fiercely assaulted my backside. Knight straddled me above my thighs, and I couldn’t say I felt the cold anymore. All I could feel was heat on my face considering my butt was basically bare—just clad in a white thong. I started to shift uneasily until I felt Knight’s hand against my back.

“Dulcie, I won’t do anything.”

I swallowed and nodded, closing my eyes as he started rubbing the tops of my shoulders, manipulating the stress out of my muscles.

“Although I will say you have one hell of a great ass,” Knight added with a chuckle. “That’s a visual I’ll commit to memory.”

“Knight,” I started.

“Just playing with you,” he whispered and set to massaging my entire back, kneading my sore muscles until I could feel myself beginning to relax little by little. “Thanks for what you did tonight, Dulce.”

I didn’t open my eyes and was dangerously close to falling asleep. “Welcome.”

“You probably don’t believe it but it means a lot to me.”

I was so tired I didn’t even complain when I felt his hands on my butt. The funny part was that I did trust him. Even though I was almost naked in his bed and he was rubbing my butt, I trusted him, and I knew he wouldn’t try anything. It just wasn’t in him to—Knight was the type of man who would want a woman to come to him one hundred percent of her own accord.

“I believe you,” I whispered.

“I will always keep you safe, Dulce. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

I wasn’t sure if he really said it or if I dreamt he had.