Page 92 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“Why?” I managed.

"You're the first who's ever wanted to see me like this.” The words were a quiet admission. "Most prefer the human version."

He’d never fucked anyone in his goblin form? “Why wouldn’t they like that? You’re so⁠—”

“I’m a goblin, Elle.” He was reminding me of what the supernatural community thought of goblins.

“Well, I find you beautiful.”

“So you’ve said.” I didn’t miss the small smile that pulled at the corner of his lips. I lifted a finger to trace it. His felt just like normal lips, but they were also metallic in color, several shades darker than his aluminum skin. He caught my hand and slipped my pointer finger into his mouth, the one wearing his gold ring. He gently bit down. I squealed, then laughed at the sensation of his pointed teeth.

A low noise sounded in the back of his throat. “I love that laugh. Love hearing you happy.”

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth. I was, wasn’t I? Happy? The sensation had sort of…crept up on me. But I liked being here in Bastian’s house with him, enjoying him, and that was saying a lot, considering the world was going to shit around us.

A hand came up, fingers caressing my collarbones, catching beneath my gold necklaces. “Professor Miller gave you this one?” He asked, lifting the medallion.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And what about this one? It’s an artifact too, yes?”

I nodded, then hesitated. “It the one I use to see through glamor.”

He frowned. “Where did you get it?”

I paused, then decided to give him the truth. “My father made it for me.”

His head pulled back to get a better look at me, as if seeing something entirely new. “Your father. He was an artificer. That’s why you studied artifacts. Fuck. This is a surprise—you surprise me at every turn.”

I nodded, trying to hide my pleased smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by magical objects because of him. He made this for me before…before he died.”

Bastian’s face softened. “I’m sorry, baby girl. What about your mom?” He stroked his fingers down my cheek. I closed my eyes, practically purring from his touch.

“We… Our relationship was never the best. She… She wasn’t a fan of his work, of the danger that it posed.”

“But she married him?”

“She didn’t know much about it until they were married. She scorned supernaturals when she discovered their existence. He couldn’t exactly hide it, considering it was such a large part of his work.”

He hummed. “That’s too bad. It must have been really hard for both of them. For you as well.”

I blinked, looking at him. “It—yes, it was. He died a couple of years before I went to college. I lived on campus, mostly to get away from my mom, from her bitterness. It felt toxic in a way that I couldn’t handle. Like she was mad at everyone and everything and I was the closest thing available to take it out on.”

Bastian nodded.

“To her, I was always my father’s favorite and she resented that. Resented that he shared his work with me. He would have done the same with her, but she scorned it.” I shook my head and sighed. “Things got a lot worse when I told her what I was studying in school. I don’t think she ever forgave me for wanting to do something that made me feel closer to my dad.”

“That makes sense.” He hesitated. “Would you go back to school, if you could? If the threat of Luke didn’t exist? Would you finish what you started? Complete your master’s degree?”

My chest squeezed and a burst of longing settled over me. “I guess I’ve never allowed myself to think about the possibility.”

It had been too painful.

I thought about it now, in the safety of his arms. I thought about what would happen if Luke didn’t exist anymore, if he was no longer a threat. There wouldn’t be any remaining fear of him finding me, hurting me, using me to plan heists and steal valuable historical objects. But Professor Miller was gone. I’d have to do it without her. That left a different kind of ache in my chest. And yet…

“Yes, I think I would.” The admission felt bright and hopeful. I knew why he asked. If all this worked out, if Luke really was the one responsible, if we brought him to justice, then he wouldn’t be my concern anymore.

“I owe it to myself,” I added. “It’s what I wanted, and I was good at it, passionate about it. I wouldn’t have quit if things were different.”