Page 50 of First Snow
“You’re hurt,” Arttu slurs. His hands come up to carefully inspect Jareth’s shoulder and his eyes gain a little bit more focus.
Jareth is pulled out of his stupor. Shit, he wasthisclose to enthralling Arttu, wasn’t he?
“I’m okay, sweetheart,” Jareth whispers. “Rest now.”
Arttu yawns. “But—”
“Sleep.” Jareth infuses his command with more magic, making Arttu’s eyes flutter shut. He slumps, and Jareth catches him in his arms. He sighs. It’s time to leave.
Chapter 17
Arttu
Heblinkshiseyesopen, feeling disoriented and slightly sick. Where is he? For a moment, Arttu wonders if he has gotten drunk with Tuulia again. Are they sharing an Uber on their way home? Judging by the sounds and movements of his surroundings, he has to be in a car. Arttu is distracted by a gentle hand brushing through his hair and a warm presence at his side. That’s definitely not Tuulia. Arttu sighs and leans into the solid body next to him. Everything is okay, Jareth is with him.
Jareth.
Consciousness returns with a jolt, as do last night’s memories. Jareth threatening Lord Briar while fucking Arttu out of his mind. Jareth practically admitting that he killed Mikael and the others. Jareth transforming into a fearsome god of the underworld and chopping up an even more terrifying creature with a sword. Arttu winces.
“Oh, fucking hell, stop the car. I think I might—”
Arttu scrambles for the door handle. Seconds later, he finds himself on the side of a snowy road, dry heaving pitifully. Jareth is right behind him, holding him more or less upright and caressing his back.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Jareth whispers. His voice is as deep and soothing as ever, and Arttu wants to cry. The memories from last night play out in his mind in an endless loop.
Arttu retches again, but it sounds more like sobbing now. He can only think of two explanations for what he heard: Either Jareth is some kind of mafia boss and he and Briar were talking in a very strange code, or Jareth is suffering from psychosis and believes the shit he’s spouting. Arttu doesn’t know which explanation is more horrible. But one thing is obvious, Jareth knew all three victims, and he has made an effort to make Briar believe that he killed them, whatever his babbling about a truce and House Blackrose may mean.
Arttu straightens on wobbly legs when the retching has finally subsided. He allows Jareth to guide him back toward the car and make him sit in the open door. Jareth gently pushes strands of Arttu’s sweaty hair from his brow and offers him a handkerchief to wipe his mouth.
“Thanks,” Arttu rasps.
Oh hell, he didn’tjustlet a murderer fuck him, no. Arttu Palosaari doesn’t do things half-heartedly. He had to go and fall in love. Great job, detective.
Jareth watches him with a worried expression. Arttu can barely stand it.
“Where are we?” he asks to distract himself from his inner meltdown.
Jareth regards him with a strange look. He glances over his shoulder as if expecting an ambush in this snowy wilderness.
“On our way back to my cas—summer house. Lord Briar was indisposed this morning, so I decided to leave early.”
Arttu feels anger bubbling up in his chest. Does Jareth expect him to buy his flimsy excuses? Is Arttu supposed to believe he feels totally out of it today because of a bit of sub drop or ‘cause Jareth fucked him so well? Damn, he’d had an honest to god fever dream featuring Jareth with horns and fangs like a fucking demon, fighting some horrible wood monster. Arttu didn’t have any alcohol yesterday. The realization that Jareth must’ve spiked his drink almost makes him throw up again. And did Jareth just call his summer mansion a castle before hastily correcting himself? This is madness. How didn’t Arttu see it earlier?
Biting down on the inside of his cheek hard, he swallows down the enraged accusations that want to slip out. But anger is good. Anger is better than grief.
“Let’s get back into the car, sweetheart. You belong in bed,” says Jareth, whose gentle demeanor is in complete contradiction to the fact that he’s the one responsible for Arttu’s discomfort.
Arttu nods weakly. He has to play the docile sub just a little longer. And Jareth taking him to his summer house may very well be the last mistake he makes. Arttu just has to find out about the ominous ‘spell book’ that Jareth and Briar were talking about, then he will put Jareth behind bars.
Annikki drives off as soon as Jareth and Arttu are settled in the backseat again. It doesn’t escape Arttu that she didn’t stop the engine. She taps on the steering wheel and glances nervously in the rear-view mirror. Were Jareth and Annikki so careful all along, and Arttu was just too lovestruck to see it?
He nestles against Jareth’s side reluctantly. The position is cozy and Jareth’s body is warm and inviting. Arttu hates it. He falls into a fitful sleep, nonetheless.
“Sweetheart, wake up. We’re here.”
Jareth’s breath fans over Arttu’s cheek, and Arttu blinks up at him disorientedly.
“Already?”