By P.Prowse

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She needed to get away, get some fresh air. His hand tightened on the strap. He tugged her closer as she pulled back and the delicate fabric snapped. Backed against the counter she had nowhere left to go. None of her brother’s other friends came in, and if she yelled, no one would hear her over the music. She had to get rid of him. ” She forced a smile while her hand was making sure she was still decent. The top stayed up, held by one equally flimsy strap on the other side. ” He stepped back. ” She waited until he’d left the kitchen, counted to ten for him to get to the laundry where the beer was sitting the trough full of ice, then she slipped out of the kitchen.

Roan fisted his hand. She wasn’t an object to possess, that was the goblin in him heeding the empty call of the curse. Take more, always more to feed a hunger that could never be sated. It was a question of when, not if, he faded to gray and became one of the true goblins that roamed the Shadowlands looking for battle and gold. When he succumbed, the men who shared his curse would fall with him. It was for them he fought. Now he had a new weapon to fight with. This girl, with her simple wish, had given him back what he’d thought lost.

Not the cold lust for gold that had corrupted his soul and kept him chained to the Shadowlands, but something else he couldn’t name. It had been too long since he was human. But this young woman hadn’t called on him for wealth or battle. All she wanted was his help…even though that wasn’t what she’d wished for. The exact words of her wish echoed in his mind. I wish the Goblin King would take me away from here. She’d wished to be taken away. By him. No woman had called on him for at least five centuries.

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