"Why were you in the coffee shop today? Have you been following me? Are you with them?" I demanded of the goblin I was currently clinging to, trying to ignore the pain in my wrist.

"Them, who?"

"Those guys in the alley. Luke."

He gave a dismissive snort. "No."

Some of the tension fled my shoulders. I opened my mouth, more questions forming on my lips. He rounded another corner, accelerating into it, stealing the breath from my chest, forcing me to silence. The city gave way to smaller buildings and then suburbs. He continued at three times the speed limit, dodging a slow-moving train of cars, shooting straight past them.

My stomach lurched with every movement. "Going a little fast, don't you think?" I barked.

"Not fast enough."

I spoke through clenched teeth. "No one's following us. I'm pretty sure at this speed, you already lost them." Actually, I wasn't sure they'd even bothered to follow. He gave an answering grunt. "You might be a goblin, but I'm not. So, if we crash..."

A beat of silence. "We're not going to crash. But even if we did, I would keep you safe."

I blinked.

Safe.

I wouldn't admit how that word affected me. How desperately I craved safety. Especially knowing what it was like to live without it. Warmth spread through my chest. It shouldn't have, but it did. I exhaled.

Larger houses dotted the landscape, half hidden by trees. The rich liked their privacy. We passed into Kentwood. A few minutes later the goblin veered off the road, up an asphalt drive. I blinked, taking in my surroundings. My eyes narrowed. Where the hell were we going?

Trees lined both sides of the drive, obscuring everything from view. Then they thinned and a house appeared. A massive craftsman with a light blue shingled exterior and white accents, a large porch, and huge windows that glowed with warmth. My chest caved in. It was...stunning. Not like most houses on this street. Not loud and obnoxious. But also not the type of house I would have expected, assuming it was his.

That did all sorts of things to my curiosity, which I hated.

We pulled into a sweeping circle drive and parked in front. "Off," he barked. I scrambled off the bike and the goblin followed. Holding my injured wrist to my chest, I struggled with one hand to remove my helmet. A pair of hands reached for me, sliding it free. My pink hair messily fell into place around my shoulders.

The goblin stared down at me, expression unreadable. All it took was one blink; a transparent image of his goblin form overlaid him, betraying his glamor. He was positively breathtaking, even without glamor, even with skin the shade of brushed aluminum. I blinked again and his regular appearance returned. The helmet he took disappeared. His was gone, too.

"Give me your wrist," he snapped, impatient. I ground my teeth together and hesitated. He sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you, little female. Let me see it."

Setting my jaw, I offered it to him, wincing when he reached for it. I needn't have worried. His fingers were shockingly gentle. My eyes zeroed in on those beautifully masculine hands, on his ringed fingers as they pressed the swollen area. Those hands on me...even with my pain, my body's betrayal irked me.

He pressed near the vein on my wrist's underside and I flinched. "Ow," I breathed.

He hummed, going still. "Broken, I think."

I'd felt the crack. "I think so, yes."

"This will feel hot," he warned, right before his thumb stroked over the bottom of my wrist. Searing heat made me flinch. My body went guarded, tensing up, but I didn't pull away. I'd felt so much worse, once. This was nothing, comparatively.

The heat disappeared almost as quickly. He glanced up, gauging my expression. Something in it made his jaw tighten. He looked down again, moving my wrist around, holding my hand with his, lacing our fingers together. With smooth motions, he rolled my wrist around. I stared, transfixed, at his rings as they caught the light, the warm metal heating my skin between my fingers. I wanted to ask about them, suddenly curious about everything that had to do with this goblin. But I couldn't form words. The warmth of his skin on mine had my heart performing acrobatics.

"There." He dropped my hand and stepped back. The loss was so abrupt, it felt like he'd taken my warmth with him. I moved my wrist around, then dropped my hand, looking up, staring at him. He'd healed me. A goblin. I hadn't even known it was possible.

"You going to gape at me all night, Sugar? Or shall we go inside?"

And just like that, the moment fractured. I closed my mouth, glaring at him instead. Sugar. So mature. "That depends, Goblin. Where are we?"

He hesitated, eyes darting over me. The corner of his mouth twitched before he said, "Where's your phone?"

"My..." I frowned. "My phone?"

"Your phone—where is it?" He held out his hand, waiting.

A cold realization dropped into my belly. Shit! Was someone using it to track me? I pulled it from my back pocket, staring like it had turned into a bug. He snatched it. A blink later, it disappeared into thin air.

I gasped. "Wait, I'm going to ignore that little magic trick for a second. You can't just take my phone! That's...like..."

"Looks like I just did. Now, get inside."

I scoffed. "First you stalk me, then you kidnap me on your bike, then you take my phone, and now you expect me to...to just...walk in there?" Since we were only focusing on the negatives, I didn't ruin it by mentioning that he'd also healed me.

"Did I stutter, Sugar?"

My mouth dropped open. "Not sure. I don't speak asshole."

His jaw clenched, then he said through gritted teeth, "Get. Inside. Now." He moved behind me, prodding my back, just between my shoulder blades, sending me forward.

"Uhm, excuse me? What. The. Actual. Fuck?!"

He made a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat.

I tried to stop, to turn and face him. Those large hands I'd seen dwarfing a coffee mug, then healing me so gently, came up to clutch my bare shoulders, propelling me forward. Everywhere his palms pressed, heat built. My face flushed. I inwardly groaned.

This couldn't be happening—not now. Never mind that he was a total asshole. Maybe I had a complex where I was attracted to awful men? That was enough to zap the attraction instantly.

We were up the steps. The door loomed before me. He dropped a hand to punch in a code on the techy security system panel beside the door before pressing a finger against a pad. There was a zapping sound followed by a light blue glow that momentarily blanketed the house before disappearing.

Not normal.

"Is this...your house?" He didn't answer.

He gave me a gentle push through the door and into the entryway. I abruptly halted, just in time for his chest to collide with my back, sending me a few steps inward. He gave another grunt. "Keep going, Sugar," he huffed. "Into the sitting room." I didn't. I just stood and gawked. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered. The door closed and he moved around me, through the entry and into the sitting room.

Everything inside was designed for comfort and style. I took it in, wide-eyed. Through an arch to the left, I found an elaborately carved dining table and chairs overlooked by a chandelier filled with glittering orbs. To my right, a spacious sitting room was dominated by a luxurious, navy blue sectional that could seat at least eight people comfortably. It was covered in knitted blankets and throw pillows. There was a detached ottoman with—I blinked—a wooden tray holding a vase of fresh cut flowers in different shades of white and cream, and an electric candle display. Jeez. This place was staged for a magazine shoot. Soft lights glowed from lamps and wall sconces around the room. Tasteful art hung from the walls, showing black and white images of the city. A giant television screen sat above a gas fireplace. Framed. It was fucking framed! Like it was a fancy painting.

"Okay, I take it back," I said. "There's no way this is your house." It had been expertly decorated and with him...I just didn't see it. Maybe I saw what I wanted to see when I looked at him, tattoos, piercings, long hair and all. Damn. I'd probably misjudged him the same way people misjudged me for having pink hair.

Taking a step forward, I continued my perusal. In front of me, a dark wooden staircase led to the second floor landing. The hallway beside it must've led to the kitchen. And if I wasn't mistaken, there was an arch on the far side of the living room that led there as well.

When my goblin host didn't answer, I looked around for him. He was at the liquor cabinet (a freaking liquor cabinet!) I hadn't spotted until just now. I gravitated into the living room, then hesitated, glancing back at the door. There was a mat for shoes. I kicked my boots off before making my way into the room. He walked over with two snifters, both with a generous two fingers of whisky.

"Sit," he commanded, handing one to me.

"Uhm..." I didn't know what to say. To any of it.

Something in his voice didn't leave room for argument and I felt almost compelled to follow his order. I picked a comfortable place to sit, taking liberties to messily arrange pillows around me, even grabbing a throw to cover my bare legs and part of the obnoxious gold top I hadn't gotten the chance to change out of. The goblin lifted an impatient eyebrow while I got comfortable. "What?" I glared. "What's the point of pillows and blankets if they're just for looks?"

He shook his head, then chose a seat at the other end of the sectional. He leaned back, comfortably spreading his muscled thighs wide, throwing an arm over the back. The moment those green eyes fell on me, that familiar sensation returned. It was accompanied by a hot flush that crept up my neck. What the hell?! Was this part of his goblin tricks? Steal women away to his home, get them all hot and bothered?

His eyes dropped to my chest, fixating there. "Interesting necklaces."

Oh.

I swallowed, then lifted the snifter to my lips and took a sip. Warmth and flavor rushed over my tongue, down my throat, immediately dulling some of my irritation. Fuck. That was good. My eyes darted up to him in surprise. I took another sip, savoring it before I swallowed. "This isn't, like, poisoned or something, is it?"

"Unbelievable," he muttered, then took a sip of his own.

"What?" I groused. "You can't blame me for wondering—"

"What happened in that alley?"

"Oh," I snapped. "You mean when I was scantily clad? Throwing myself at other men? Asking for it?" His eyebrows drew together. "You said it, Goblin, not me."

"I alluded to your manner of dress because there are some who—"

"Can't control themselves?" I huffed, my eyes narrowing. "So, it's my fault then?"

His lips parted. "I never said that. You may dress how you wish. But surely you know that certain parts of the city aren't safe in the middle of the night."

"Then it shouldn't matter how I dress—"

"It shouldn't!" he agreed, his voice lifting above mine. "But that won't stop predators or change the reality of the situation. For some supernaturals, walking around scantily clad in a gold top that fits like a glove and screams sex..." His expression hardened and he shook his head. "I can think of several denizens who'd take one look at you and sink their teeth into your soft skin. I can think of several others that will see a spark of gold glinting in the darkness and rip your throat out far faster than I can draw a weapon. Creatures you've never even dreamed of. One bite and you're dead. Just like that." Chills spread down my arms. "To them, you're nothing but a piece of candy, dangled on a string. You put yourself in danger, tonight. That was badly done."

My jaw dropped. I shut it, my resolve hardening. Maybe he had a point, but I wasn't going to admit that. Nor was I going to just sit here and let him lay into me like this. "As if you care about me—"

"Are you going to tell me what happened tonight, or not?"

"You're kidding, right? I don't even know you! You think I'm just going to start—"

"Oh, pardon me for being so rude." He stood and bowed, leaving me stunned. Not a basic bow, but a flowing, gentlemanly bow. The kind you see in old fashioned movies. "My name is Bastian. It's nice to meet you, Eleanor." He reclaimed his seat, huffing, the scowl he'd worn digging even deeper into his flawless skin.

I made a sound of disgust. "Firstly, ha ha, very cute little act. Cut the bullshit, Goblin. Secondly, no one calls me Eleanor." My nose crinkled. "It's Elle. Do your friends call you Bas? Do you even have friends? Or are you just too much of an asshole?" He stared at me, expression unchanging. "Fine. Whatever."

I looked down at my drink and took a sip to calm my ire. Honestly, I didn't care if it was poisoned. This was the best damn whisky I'd tasted. With each sip, my effort to give a fuck deadened.

"You done with the sass, Sugar?" I snorted. "Great. Fantastic. Glad we cleared that up. Now, tell me what happened in the alley." I opened my mouth, then closed it. What the fuck? "By all means, take as long as you like. You won't be leaving until I get answers."

"Excuse me?" I sputtered, sitting up straighter. Now he had my attention. Except, he didn't respond. No, he just watched me with those piercing green eyes. "You can't...you can't keep me here indefinitely. I'll leave when I want." I glanced at the door, then back at him. We both knew I was stuck here. He'd commandeered my phone and disappeared-it, or whatever. And unless I planned to walk all the way back into the city, which I absolutely was not going to do at...what time was it? I glanced at the elegant clock on the wall. One thirty in the morning. Fucking hell!

I ground my teeth together, then sighed. "Fine. You win. I was ambushed, all right? After I walked outside." I gave him the abridged version, so we could get this over with, leaving out Luke's identity and our past. I told him how I'd been on the phone and stepped out for better reception, only to be accosted outside the door. I told him how I'd broken free, only to have my wrist snapped. "And then you showed up, all dark-knight and whatnot, and kidnapped me on your bike," I finished.

"I...see." He shifted, which drew my attention annoyingly to his hips, to the way his jeans fit him so perfectly. His movements were slow. I watched, eyes unblinking, as he lifted his glass to his lips, as they puckered slightly, as his throat bobbed when he took a swallow.

Then I blinked and snapped the hell out of it. I cleared my throat. "Well? I answered your question. It's only fair you answer mine."

The harsh grin now spreading across his lips was all predator. If I blinked, focused hard enough, those blunted, perfect teeth turned to narrow points."Is that what you think, Sugar? That I'm in the business of giving little females like you what they want?"

I clenched my jaw. "Why were you at Awake Coffee earlier? And Vortex? Are you...were you following me?"

"Yes."

"Oh...kay? So...why?"

"To get answers."

"Answers..." I repeated, not quite comprehending.

"Answers to a few questions. Depending on how you answer, you may or may not go home."

I huffed, staring back at him. He didn't blink, didn't even move. "Fine. What do you want to know? I work in a nightclub. My life is as mundane as it gets. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm quite human. I know who you are—what you are. I know goblins do all the dirty work for the fae. Trust me, I've never had anything to do with them. There's nothing I can say that would possibly be of interest."

But that wasn't true, was it? There were plenty of thoughts in my mind that I found interesting. Like, the way I couldn't stop looking at his arm as it flexed to lift his drink, the hand holding that drink, and what it would feel like running over my body. Or the rise and fall of his chest—the way his shirt pulled tight over the muscles there. Or my curiosity over his piercings and the markings shaved onto the side of his head. What his tattoos symbolized—

"How well do you know Professor Miller?"

Everything stopped, even my breathing. My hand froze, glass halfway to my mouth. "What?"

"Jane Miller. How well do you know her?" His eyes flashed back towards my chest, to my necklaces. My stomach dropped.

"I...I don't."

"Oh?"

"Oh."

"That's interesting," he mused, rubbing his jaw.

I scoffed. "Why's that?"

"Because Jane Miller died last week, and when her family reviewed her will, they were unhappy to learn that she left everything to you."

My jaw dropped. "What?"

I didn't disguise the minor hitch in my breath. Didn't acknowledge the way my palms turned clammy and started to tremble. This had suddenly gotten a lot more serious, and I wasn't sure I was even remotely equipped to handle it.