No response.
I wasn’t about to refuse warm food and a book paired together—what heaven!—so I didn’t question it. I arranged myself carefully in one of the leather chairs, the stew in my lap, spoon in one hand and book in the other, the tea within reach. I tried to eat quickly because I knew I only had an hour, but I didn’t have much concept of time underground. Surely I could take fifteen minutes, just to start a chapter…
Suddenly, a grandfather clock behind me began to toll its bell, and I almost sprung out of my chair in terror. Had there been a clock there before? Surely I would have noticed such an impressive clock. It was taller than I was, and displayed the phases of the moon—a clock worthy of a king.
There was no arguing it. The clock chimed eight o’ clock, and I felt sure it was telling me to get into the bath and make myself ready for the goblin king. A chiming clock becomes a very ominous sound when you are expecting such a night as this, I thought, yanking my cloak around my body as I hurried down the uneven corridor, looking for my bedroom. Another small tremor shook the hallway.
Here was a large room with a beautiful carved bed and a large wooden wardrobe to match, with double doors. On one side of the room was a cozy table and chairs, and off to the other side was a porcelain tub, with steam wafting out of it. Warm water awaited me, and a towel as well as a nightgown were already folded neatly across a rack nearby.
I hesitated only briefly before slipping off my clothes. Even in a family that had been fairly well-to-do, a warm bath with clean water all to myself was a luxury that the youngest sister out of four never, ever enjoyed. And I’d had such a long day of walking, the warm water instantly relaxed every muscle in my body. I grabbed the soap and lathered my arms and legs. Such soft soap! Everything here was the finest example of itself I had ever seen. I tipped my head back and looked at the ceiling, realizing that it was quite high up—maybe ten feet above me—and glinting with tiny lights like constellations.
They were constellations, actually, or at least the lights were formed that way. I spotted many that I recognized. Another map, I thought, for studying the stars.
A hand pounded on the door.
“It is time for you to fulfill your bargain, o courageous one,” the goblin king said.
I rushed out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor, and swiped myself with the towel before yanking the nightgown on over my half-wet body. “C-come in,” I said, and the door creaked open.
Chapter Two
The goblin king looked just the same as before. He walked into the room without making any comment on the water spilled everywhere or my damp hair. In fact, he seemed impatient, but I was freshly aware of his strength, his height, his manliness, and all the sharp edges of him. The light here was even more dim than the last time I’d seen him, and yet his pale flesh and golden eyes stood out, as if he were made to be seen in this light.
“Stand at the foot of the bed,” he said without preamble, “and bend over the footboard.”
My heart was in my throat. “Is this how we’re going to do it?”
“Yes.” He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you want to look at my face.”
“Well…I thought that was how it was done. I would rather see your face.”
He bared his fangs and a part of me did want to shudder back, seeing those crowded teeth again. I tried to hide it, but he noticed.
“Down,” he said. “I don’t want to see your face.”
I didn’t exactly move with haste. I was shuddering all over. His eyes were upon me, unblinking, unwavering.
I lowered my head onto the soft, feather-stuffed bedspread. The footboard was pressing against my stomach and I felt a little sick. I edged forward more so it was under my hips—although this forced my bottom into a more prominent position. He pushed the hem of my nightgown up to my waist, and I heard him unbutton his trousers.
“Why do you do this?” I asked, hoping to stall him—hoping to understand, at least.
“Why?”
“Yes, why!”
“This is not a question I will answer for you.”
“Because, I must say…” I twisted my head around to get a look at him. “You don’t seem like you’re enjoying it any more than I am. And it seems to me that if you’re going to be paying a gold coin every night for this, it would add up, and you ought to enjoy it.”
“Oh, I will enjoy it very much, in the moment it’s happening,” he said, and I felt his stiff flesh press against my folds.
I went utterly rigid. My heart was beating so fast that it was hard to keep my voice steady; any moment I was sure that thing between his legs was going to force its way inside me.
“But you wouldn’t like to look at my face, since I do happen to be beautiful, whether I like it or not?”
His fingers gripped my arm, and he leaned down so his breath touched my ear, even as his erection was still pressing against me. “Why do you want to have my name and see my face?” he demanded. “Do you imagine you’re going to fall in love with me, little human? Trust me—you won’t.”
“It sounds to me like you’re the one who has made up your mind not to fall in love.”
He grabbed me now and shoved me onto my back, so I could see the massive cock hanging out of his trousers, and the fierce glow of his eyes.
“Wide-eyed virgins,” he muttered. “A waste of time. But if you really want to see my face, if you really want me to see yours, then—I’ll proceed.”
“Yes.” I forced my speech to be firm.
His gloves slid down my thighs, urging them apart. I gripped the bed sheets in anticipation.
He looked at me and hesitated. It was clear to me then that he wasn’t used to seeing the faces of the girls who came to him either, and he didn’t really want to see me. He wanted to get it over with.
“You are beautiful,” he said, the rasp in his voice turning softer and huskier. “Gods damn you.” My nightgown was still pushed up around my waist, and I blushed as his eyes dropped between my legs, away from my face, as if he wanted to remind himself what he was here for. My hands gripped the bed more tightly. I looked away, let my eyes wander to the ceiling, to the stars, trying to show him that I was ready.
For a moment, nothing happened.
The thumb of his glove slid between my mounds and began to stroke me firmly. I didn’t expect this at all. I could feel the slight stiffness of the leather and the seam that wrapped around where the two sides of the glove were sewn together. Heat rose within me and another finger nudged just inside my entrance—I could feel the hard shape of his claw beneath the glove there.
I felt very warm where he touched me, and unaccountably excited. His fingers met my sudden slickness, and he pushed his finger in a little farther.
I started to feel ashamed, and my thighs drew together, even as I didn’t want him to stop.
Maybe I was the girl Clara didn’t want me to be. Here I was, with the goblin king, in the actual moment, and I didn’t want him to stop.