For the Love of a Goblin Warrior (Shadowlands) (13 page)

“But you like having breakfast out…or should you be home sleeping?” He picked up his coffee and watched her as he took a sip.

She wouldn’t be doing much sleeping. There was something in his eyes that made her forget that she’d just finished work and was in her running gear—instead of dressed up and presenting her best side. Maybe they were past that. She’d seen him at a low; what did it matter what she wore?

“Both.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

He smiled, and for a moment, she glimpsed a heat in his eyes most men kept well hidden. But Meryn didn’t seem to hide behind what was proper. It was nice not to have to work out what were glossy lies for the first date. She already knew, even if she didn’t know the details.

She put the last piece of muffin in her mouth and wished they came in bigger sizes so she could have a reason to stay longer.

“Did you want to meet again tomorrow?” The words were out before she’d thought them through. Did she want to meet him again tomorrow? And if she did, at what point did simple coffee become more? Tomorrow it wouldn’t be pre-date coffee; it would actually be a date…wouldn’t it?

He nodded slowly as if considering. “I’d like that.”

She met his gaze and saw the gray of his eyes soften. The little spark in her chest was fanned by that look and caught hold to become a little flame. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t take the invitation back and she didn’t want to, even though she knew it was wrong. It didn’t feel wrong; it felt fun, as if she were on an adventure and she didn’t know where she was going.

Her fingers brushed the back of his hand, then he turned his hand over so the tips of their fingers touched before she pulled her hand away. For a second she was tempted to lean in and kiss him, but she stopped herself. He hadn’t given her any indication that he was interested in anything else than coffee—even if she saw it in his eyes. And she had the feeling that when Meryn said coffee, he’d actually mean coffee.

Nadine pressed her lips together and glanced down, but still the heat crept up her cheeks. The desire to kiss him had snuck up on her and now couldn’t be dislodged. It wasn’t just kissing him that was on her mind. Did he hide other scars under his shirt? She looked up and realized he was watching her with that look in his eyes. On another man she would’ve called it lust, but with Meryn that label seemed too casual.

She wasn’t thinking about coffee.

It was time to go before she did something dumb.

She swallowed and found some composure; men never unraveled her and got beneath her skin. Wasn’t that what she wanted though, someone who made her feel alive?

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” she said as she pushed her chair back and got up.

So did Meryn. He moved easily, each movement the bare minimum required. There was nothing flashy to draw attention. He did that by existing.

“I’ll walk you down the road.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I have nothing else to do.”

She nodded. Okay then. As he passed the garden bed, he stopped and picked a flower, a pale blue sprig of something. She watched, then her eyes widened as he went to tuck it behind her ear. She let him.

His hand brushed her cheek, a move that was almost accidental. “Thank you for breakfast. It was nice to have someone to eat with.”

Nadine smiled, but her heart was breaking for him. He was lonely. While she’d been assuaging her curiosity, he’d been enjoying having someone to talk to. Next time she’d let him ask some questions—it was fast becoming a proper date. The thought made her heart beat a little faster even though she knew anything she felt for Meryn was dangerous.

Meryn turned away instead of watching her leave. He enjoyed spending time with her, even though he couldn’t tell her the truth about his life. He wanted to. The truth hovered on the tip of his tongue every time she asked a question, but instead he bit it back and told a half truth.

What could he say without her running away screaming?

If he told her about goblins, she’d think him mad at best and a threat at worst. If he talked about his life as a Decangli warrior, she wouldn’t believe him. He was a man without a past and that was just as bad. How long until Nadine saw through his answers and realized how much he wasn’t telling her?

How long until his own dishonesty poisoned their fragile friendship?

He scuffed his boot on the path and kicked a stick out of the way. He forced out a breath. He didn’t want to see distrust and fear in her eyes when she looked at him. He wanted to see more of those glimmers of heat, the ones that flickered before she looked away and smothered them. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. It raised a heat in his blood that he’d thought was killed with his wife.

Lust for a woman, not soulless gold. The need for more metal had consumed him with its cold burn in the Shadowlands so that he almost hadn’t recognized true desire. A smile formed as he thought of her and his flesh hardened. It cut and hurt the way he thought it would. His love for Idella was still there, and always would be, but Nadine was a living, smiling woman. One who smiled at him.

Considering he’d been with Idella for eight years, he’d almost forgotten what courting meant. He owed Nadine more than a simple flower. He still had her cross, and it was becoming harder and harder to find a way to hand it over. To do so now would reveal he was nothing but a thief and a coward.

Which was exactly what he had been when he’d first been pulled from the Shadowlands, and now? Maybe he still was, since he couldn’t bring himself to hand back her jewelry.

He took the long route back to his campsite, but he wasn’t listening to anything people said as he walked. A growing sense of dread filled his stomach, smothering the desire that had lifted his spirits. He could never tell Nadine where he lived. He could never have her share a meal with him, not after sharing breakfast with her in the café. The small fragment of shame that had lingered at the back of his mind took hold and grew, reinforcing what Dai had said.

People didn’t live in the scrub. They didn’t hunt for lizards and snakes and then sleep under the stars, hoping it didn’t rain. He was failing simply because he was refusing the help Dai offered. His pride was getting in the way. He swallowed down the bitter realization.

He either had to give up on the hope of courting Nadine or take what Dai was offering.

What strings would come attached?

He didn’t want his old job back; he didn’t want to be second to the king. He still didn’t want to see Roan.

If he’d been half the man he used to be, he wouldn’t have hesitated. There would’ve been no doubt in his heart. Now he second guessed everything. If he turned away from Nadine now and never looked back, that would again prove he was too weak to even risk failure.

“Damn it.” He was caught; every choice seemed to reinforce he was afraid to make a decision. He was like a child who couldn’t make up his mind.

He stepped off the path and took a circuitous route back to his campsite. He never took the same path or entered at the same point. And he was always careful to leave no tracks. The two men he’d taken the clothes from had followed him more than once from a distance, and each time he’d lost them easily by leaving the park and walking along one of the busy roads that framed the park. He hoped they didn’t realize he lived here. But again, he knew he was pushing his luck.

At the edge of the clearing he stopped, his chest tightening at the monstrosity hanging over his rough shelter. His campsite was as he’d left it, except for one thing. The gray Shadowlands dust that had been mingling with the dirt had now reassembled and a large black spider with a slash of red down its abdomen dangled from a web.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The body of the thing was as large as a man’s head.

Meryn took a step back.

He’d seen plenty of these spiders hiding under things. Red meant danger, so he was guessing they were poisonous, but none that he’d seen so far had been this size. The strands of web were so thick they could have been used to weave cloth. And the spider was…

It was as if it was someone’s worst fear had grown to enormous proportions. His fear. He’d been killing them and growing more paranoid with every branch he’d lifted and every shake of his bedding.

As he watched, the spider seemed to grow a little larger, as if feeding off the fear. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his spine. No spider in nature was like this. This was a creature born of the Shadowlands.

It was because of him it had life. Somehow he’d dragged the Shadowlands with him and his nightmares were coming to life—the curdled milk, Idella, and now this. Each one was growing in strength and becoming more dangerous.

He glanced at his hands, unwilling to take his eyes off the spider for long in case it scuttled off. It was much better to keep an eye on the threat. Was he still connected to the Shadowlands, or was it part of him? Why couldn’t his hopes and dreams come to life? Why was it always the bad things that came back to haunt him?

Because that’s what the Shadowlands was—the place of nightmares. He picked up the sapling he’d been hoping to make a bow out of. He had to banish his fears, kill anything that appeared out of the gray dust. He had to find a way to be free of the Shadowlands before it smothered everything he dreamed of. His fingers gripped the wood like a sword ready to run the spider through and end its life. Once again he was fighting for survival. If he let that thing live, it would kill him with one bite and anyone else who had the misfortune of crossing its path, and it would grow, swelling and feeding on fear.

He gritted his teeth and rammed the stick through the spider’s body before he could hesitate further. Its legs flailed and it twisted as if trying to reach him; even now it grew. He tried to tamp down the fear but failed. Fear had a place; it kept people alive, but it couldn’t rule. In this changed world that’s what he’d been doing. He’d been afraid to do anything in case it was wrong.

Instead of fighting against it, he took a breath and refocused. He let an image of Nadine form and fill him mind. She smiled at him as she sipped her coffee. Her green-brown eyes lit from within.

The spider twitched and then broke apart, showering dust over everything. He dropped the stick and brushed off his hand. A gray smudge remained.

He watched the dust to see if it would do something. The sun tracked higher but nothing happened. He squatted down to see if anything tiny was happening—he had no idea how long that spider had been growing, only that thinking of something good in his life had helped kill it. Maybe the dust was dead now…maybe, but he doubted it. Nothing was ever that easy.

No, it would wait for him to dream again and latch on to another fear and become something else. He needed to become someone better. In his eyes, his campsite became shabbier and more pathetic.

He hung his head. As he’d told people before, sometimes it was harder to be humble and accept help than it was to continue, but in the end, the reward would be greater. Taking his own advice and finding it less than palatable was something he’d never counted on. He knew Dai would return sooner rather than later, and when he did, Meryn would have to accept the help that was offered.

The night was colder, the weather shifting. He could feel the change and see it in the clouds that formed. Meryn chanced putting another piece of wood on the fire. There was no one around to see, but the tension that wrapped around his shoulders and back increased. He was taking risks he shouldn’t, just to be comfortable. The flames flickered enticingly and he edged closer, the heat warming his skin but little else.

Something moved in the scrub. Meryn cracked open his eyes, but otherwise didn’t move. The knife was by his side, a burning branch was ready to be brandished and shoved into the face of an attacker.

Meryn’s nose twitched as the delicate scent of cooked and seasoned meat—something other than reptile—drifted through the night air. Even though he’d eaten, his stomach grumbled.

“Meryn, are you here? I brought some dinner.” Dai spoke English without being asked.

“Where else am I going to be?” Meryn couldn’t hide the resignation in his voice.

Dai walked into the clearing, a bag in one hand and the arrowhead in the other, and that odd glimmer in his eye. That was how he was locating him, with magic, and Meryn was willing to wager that the arrowhead he’d made had something to do with it.

Dai took a seat on a nearby log and began unpacking the food.

“You came alone.” Meryn had almost expected Dai to bring Roan with him to force a confrontation.

“I thought it best after last time. I wasn’t sure how I’d be received.” Dai gave him a pointed look.

Dai was trying; it was he who was behaving poorly. “Thank you for bringing dinner. It is food of this country?”

“Of the time. Chicken and fries.”

Meryn looked up from the food and at his cousin. “How many years have passed since I was a man?” How many years had Dai and Roan and the others lived in the Shadowlands waiting for the curse to break?

Dai didn’t answer straight away. The trees whispered in the breeze and sent a shiver down Meryn’s back. He knew many years had passed. One hundred, two hundred? More?

After several heartbeats Dai spoke. “Nearly two thousand,” he finally said softly.