Traveler (23 page)

“No.” She sighed again and finally asked the question that had been plaguing her, “Jack, you know that Chloe is pregnant, right?”

“Yes.”

“And Zayn knows, too, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he does. I think the big question on his mind is does the baby belong to him. And the big question on mine is—if not his, then whose?”

Io stared at him blankly for a moment, and then comprehension dawned.

“No! Not a troll!” she said, appalled, sitting up. She put a hand over her own belly before drawing her knees up tight. “And not Horroban! He didn’t…”

“Probably not.” Jack’s expression was neutral as he said this. He remained reclined. “Horroban reputedly didn’t like human women.”

Jack didn’t say anything about the trolls. Trolls usually just ate their victims—but not always. At least, not right away.

“Oh, goddess help that child! Chloe isn’t old enough to be having a baby. Especially not if…” Io looked over at the curtained window where the sun was setting in bloody crimson glory. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “But even if it isn’t his, even if it’s—Zayn wouldn’t leave her.”

“I’m certain that Zayn would protect her regardless of whose child she carried. And I understand that.” Jack looked into her eyes and mind, and addressed the fear there by saying sincerely, “I wouldn’t abandon
you
—not under any circumstances, either. You never have to worry about that. I swear it.”

Io exhaled slowly and began to uncurl. She laid
back down on the bed and rolled onto her side.

“Because you love me?” she asked softly, vernal hope unfolding.

“Because I love you,” he agreed, and curved his body into hers.

They were in the most unromantic place in Minnesota, possibly in the United States, and in Hell’s own jam to boot, but Io felt herself begin to smile and some of the leaden worry fall away from her heart.

Jack shook his head once and touched a finger to her lips. He traced their outline carefully, his finger leaving a tingling trail behind it.

“Such radiance! You look like this is the first time I’ve said this. I think I mentioned it a time or two before.” His voice was amused.

“You did tell me. It’s just that the first time we were shouting over a cavern fire and needed to make our magic stronger—I thought it might help you like that—and the other time you were high on some drug,” Io explained, feeling a little silly but determined to be truthful since Jack was so open.

Jack shook his head at her again. He rose up on one elbow and stared down at her. “Do you really think our magic would have been fooled into giving us power by words without meaning? Or that any goblin drug would lead to declarations of love? I rather suspect that just the opposite would happen. Power would be taken away at a false declaration.
And any drug of Glashtin’s would lead to violent feelings, not gentle ones.”

“You’re right,” Io agreed. She curled her fingers into Jack’s shirt and tugged gently at the fleece. “I know this. I just needed to hear it again without the explosions and drugs.”

“I understand,” Jack answered. “I wouldn’t mind hearing the words again myself.”

Io’s smile widened another notch.

“You know that I love you, too.”

“Good. Now, while we are being frank and sharing, is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

Io blinked and looked away, suddenly nervous again. “What do you mean?”

Jack laid his hand against her belly in the same spot she had touched before. “I mean, about this.”

The impulse to continue to deny any knowledge of what he suggested was neurotic in origin, the result of past history, past mistakes—not even her own—and she knew that she had to suppress it. Their new life required honesty. Jack deserved it too.

“It’s too soon to know for certain,” she said quickly, reluctantly looking back at her lover. “It is too early for any test.”

“But we both know what we can’t prove, don’t we?” He stroked her gently.

“I…” Io exhaled and relaxed under Jack’s gentle hand. “Yes, I’m pretty sure.”

“And when were you thinking of sharing this news with me?” he asked.

“I haven’t known for long—just a day. And I was waiting for a moment when we weren’t being chased by gargoyles, stealing cars, or bleeding on live wires,” she said indignantly. “This isn’t the sort of thing you blurt out between ‘pass the napalm’ and ‘look out for that gargoyle.’ ”

“I see.” Jack’s lips twitched. “I suppose it isn’t. And I guess it hasn’t been that long, has it? It just sort of feels that way. Last night was at least a month long—maybe two or three.”

“Jack? Are you happy about this?” Io asked, adhering to her policy of high-minded honesty, even if the answer wouldn’t be one she wanted to hear. “I mean, it is all rather sudden and could complicate things immensely.”

“Well, little fey, I’ve never done an easy thing in my life. Why should this be any different?”

“Jack, I’m serious.”

“I know. But damn!” Jack grinned suddenly. “Goddess, yes, I’m pleased. Do you have to ask? I’ve had nothing but death around me my whole life. Now, this once, I have participated in something wonderful and life-affirming. Io, think about it! We have created life. We may be the first of our people to have managed it since the holocaust took our kind. And if we can do it, then others can too. It may mean that this isn’t the end of fey existence. Am I happy? I’m delirious!”

Io smiled happily. “Then we should celebrate the good news.”

Jack sat up and pulled off his shirt. Most of his burns had already healed, but she still touched him gently, enjoying the warm skin and rippling muscles of his back and chest.

Jack rolled onto his back and pulled her against his half-naked body. “We
will
celebrate,” he said.

“No room service,” Io pointed out, folding arms on his chest and propping her head up on them. She loved looking at Jack, knowing that at any moment he could take her to that place of deep, dark magic. “Can’t send out for champagne.”

“I don’t think we need room service, do you?”

Longing rose up in a rush, taking her breath away. “No, we don’t.”

Io crawled up his body. She began at his mouth with a kiss that was almost an assault, but which she knew would delight the part of Jack that wasn’t gentle. It thrilled the magic also, making it glow with incandescent vibrancy as it swirled around them.

Jack slid her shirt up her back and pulled it off over her head. He had to roll onto his side to finishing undressing her, but his sweatpants were gone only seconds later. He made no effort to hide his need of her, his eyes remained unveiled, his expression open to her.

“I can
see
you,” she whispered.

“It’s my party too,” he pointed out. “I want to enjoy
it without reserve. There’ll be no more hedging or holding back.”

“Be my guest. Enjoy.”

His hands went exploring and then his mouth, too, down the swell of her breasts to the flat of her navel. He paused there, giving her belly an extra kiss. The fire, as always, was waiting to consume her.

“Lovely,” he said, his voice low.

She wondered how he could sound so calm when even her voice trembled.

“So, what is your pleasure tonight?” he asked, turning his cheek so he could look up at her over the length of her body. His heat, his intent radiated out with purposefulness and sunk deep into the curve of her belly. It made the muscles in her abdomen flutter wildly in anticipation.

Eat me. Drink me. Love me.

Io shivered, shifting her hips and rubbing herself against his smooth cheek. She knew that her face was flushed but not with embarrassment. There was no place for reserve in their relationship, no space for shyness between them.

“Love me, Jack,” she answered softly. Then with all the passion she felt, with all the magic she had,
“Now. Tomorrow. Forever.”

Jack smiled as he felt her magic curl around him, gently reshaping their destiny, carefully crafting their future.

“Always, little fey. Always.”

Magic ghosted over skin and then sank deep inside,
leaving her body suddenly warm, alive to every sensation, and aching to be filled. Her own magic rose up asking for completion.

She closed her eyes and let Jack take her where they both wanted to go. The living heat of his mouth and hands were a second course in the romantic feast, a pleasure after the magical aperitif, but not the main event they both needed. The blood surged and the heart pounded, in its own way crying for more and then more.

“Jack!” she whispered, straining against him.

He laughed softly, delightedly and worked his way back up her body. His lips smiled but his eyes were wild.

Io wrapped her legs around him and pulled him inside.

“Goddess yes!” he groaned, falling into her heat. Their bodies slid together into a perfect rhythm, and they let the music take them.

“You know the very best part about being siren fey?” Io asked later, trying to keep laughter from her voice, but mostly failing.

“What?” Jack asked, cracking open an eye. He added smugly, “Your eyes are still glowing.”

“So are yours.”

“Hmm. I’m not surprised. So what is the best part of being a siren fey?”

“Well, I can, um…I can make you do that again. Now. If you want to.”

Jack rolled onto his side, an eyebrow raising.

“You know the best part of being a death fey?” he asked in return.

“Uh…no.”

“We can do it again and it won’t kill me.”

Io laughed and wrapped her arms around him.

House Goblin is a perfectly respectable occupation, and I wish to apologize to those hard-working goblins everywhere who might feel offended by the portrait of the modern lutin community painted here. It is only in my imagination that the goblin habits of extreme tidiness have ceased to exist. Also, I must extend thanks to the historic goblins Neveling, Glashtin, and Hille Bingels for allowing me to use them in an updated form. It can only be hoped that Hille’s shade is pleased with the idea of being a rock diva. The creature, Horroban, is an almost human monster of my own making and should not be seen as an example of prime goblinhood.

I also apologize to everyone in Detroit for destroying their city. It was all my husband’s fault. He said, “goblins.” He said, “Detroit is perfect!” And he was right.

Lastly, I have to thank the shade of the late Christina Rossetti for writing her magnificent poem, “The Goblin Market.” It is from this Victorian masterpiece that I drew the notion of goblin addicts, and it was from the magic powers of goblin fruit described in that poem that L’Air de Lutin perfume was born.

As a thank-you to all of the lovely readers who have supported me, an exclusive
Traveler
screen-saver is available to anyone who visits www.lutinempire. com. And, as always, I love to hear from you at either [email protected] or at PO Box 4792; Sonora, CA 95370.

I hope you enjoy goin’ down to Goblin Town.

Melanie Jackson http://www.melaniejackson.com