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.
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:
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.
Eliza turned around. The entrance to the cave was nothing more than a crack in the face of a sheer cliff that rose with no end. There were no clouds to hide its harsh lines and no plants to soften the angles. Her beaded captor leaned against the rock, his arms folded, as impassive as the rock he had made his home.
“What is this place?” Her voice echoed in the empty world.
“The Shadowlands.” His voice didn’t echo. It dropped like a weight and was absorbed into the ground as if he were part of the strange landscape.
“This is a dream.” It had to be. She would wake up with a hangover at home with Steve.
“No.” His lips turned into a smile that cut her to the bone. “A nightmare.”
Eliza’s breath slid from her body and threatened to never return. She did know this place. So alien, yet so familiar. Every nightmare she’d ever had was created here, sired by goblins. The screeching and yells that had broken up the party had haunted her sleep, but it was a nightmare she’d thought she’d grown out of, the same way she’d put aside her dreams.
She glanced at the Goblin King. The first time she’d called him, someone had died. Her brother’s friend Ben, the boy she’d been so desperate to escape, had fled the party in fright. He ended up wrapping his car around a tree on the way home. Whether it was the Goblin King directly, booze, or just reckless driving, she couldn’t help feeling that her wish had caused his death.
Without sound or warning, the dust beneath her feet bubbled and swelled and grew. Eliza stumbled backward. Out of the blister burst Ben.
“You killed me,” Ben accused.
Eliza stepped back again. “This isn’t real.” Yet he looked real. The same as he had on the night of the party—leering and drunk. “None of this is real. It’s a nightmare.”
All she had to do was wake up and all of this would be gone…including the Goblin King. She’d forgotten about him once before. Could she do it again?
She glanced at the warrior leaning against the rock. The memory of his touch lingered on her skin, cool and firm.
