Page 12 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“So you do know.”

“—but I’m not. So, if we crash⁠—”

“We’re not going to crash, sugar.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“No, but I can promise that if we did, I would keep you safe.”

Safe?

I didn’t remember what that felt like—to be safe. Not anymore. Not after Luke. Not after spending the last two years in a heightened state of paranoia.

“Trust me, yeah?”

“Fine,” I lied.

Eventually, larger houses dotted the landscape, half hidden by trees, as we passed into Kentwood. A few minutes later the goblin veered off the road and up an asphalt drive. Trees lined both sides, obscuring everything from view. As they thinned, 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.

It was stunning. Not like most houses on this street. Not loud and ostentatious, 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 didn’t want to acknowledge.

We pulled into a sweeping circle drive and he parked in front.

“Off,” he barked.

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I couldn’t get off fast enough. Holding my injured wrist against my chest, I struggled with my other hand to remove the helmet. A pair of hands reached for me, sliding it free. My pink hair fell into place.

My rescuer stared down at me, his expression unreadable. All it took was one blink, and a transparent image of his goblin form overlaid his human one, betraying his glamor. I hated to admit it, but he was positively breathtaking even without glamor, even with skin the shade of gunmetal gray. I blinked once more and his human appearance returned.

Both helmets disappeared into thin air.

“Give me your wrist,” he snapped, impatience lacing his tone. I ground my teeth together. “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 touch was shockingly gentle. My eyes zeroed in on those beautifully masculine hands, on his ringed fingers as they assessed the swollen area. He pressed near the veins on the underside and I flinched.

“Ow,” I breathed.

He hummed, going still. “Broken, I think.”

“I think so, yes.”

“This will feel hot,” he warned right before his thumb stroked over the skin. Searing heat made me flinch. I turned guarded, every muscle locking up tight, but I didn’t pull away.

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 and 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 the 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.

“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 at him. He’d healed me. A goblin. I hadn’t even known it was possible.

“You going to gape at me all night, or shall we go inside?”

An incredulous huff fell from my lips. “That depends. Where are we?”

“Hm…” He continued looking me over, once again ignoring my question. Which he seemed to do a lot. “Where’s your phone?”

“My…” I frowned. “My phone?”