Page 66 of First Snow
Arttu feels the blush on his face, which had just faded a little, rise again. Shit, when Jareth talks about his Fae kin stealing people it shouldn’t send a delighted thrill down Arttu’s spine. His libido is definitely fucked up for good.
“You said you’ve forsaken your family’s heritage—wait, your Fae family… That’s why Phyllis called you Lord Blackrose!”
Jareth nods solemnly. “House Blackrose was very powerful when there were still enough Fae around to form large courts, or to ride out on a wild hunt. Now all the great houses are practically extinct.”
“I’m sorry,” Arttu says, a lump forming in his throat.
He can relate to being estranged from a parent, but he can’t imagine how it must feel to live in a world that’s only partially your own. Always being a stranger on both sides, always having to hide to a certain level and knowing that part of the world you belong to already ceased to exist.
“Don’t be. I made peace with my family when my father died. I accepted the legacy of House Blackrose, after all.”
Arttu hums in response, prompting Jareth to continue. He watches the will-o’-wisp dance across the room and cuddles against Jareth’s chest again. He feels sleepy.
“I’m talking about The Truce,” Jareth says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Now we’re finally getting to the serial killing business you asked about.” Jareth chuckles. “The Truceis a peace treaty between the world of men and the Kingdom Beyond. Its origins lie in the world of fables. But in the cultures who have a more troubled relationship with the magical realms, there’s always a King or Queen of myth who made a deal with the rulers of the other side.”
“What kind of deal?” Arttu asks skeptically.
“Oh, something along the lines of leaving each other in peace, you know? No abducting children and enchanting gorgeous farmers, in exchange for no devastation of sacred places and burnings of magical folks.”
“Sounds to me that this didn’t go so well, at least on the human part.”
Jareth shrugs.
“I guess it never went smoothly. I don’t think there’s an heir to the House of Pendragon left on the British Isles who could hold up their end of the bargain, but I, for one, am prepared to keep both sides in check.”
Arttu snorts. “House of Pendragon as in King Arthur? Now you’re just messing with me.”
“No, sweetheart. But I must say that your parents were rather reckless, naming you after an ancient king. People today have no idea that such names have a great attraction for beings from the other world.”
“But I’m not named after King Arthur,” Arttu retorts indignantly.
“Aren’t you now,Arttu?”
The way his name rolls from Jareth’s tongue sends a sharp jolt of arousal straight to Arttu’s groin.
“I’m not. My mum wanted to call me Tapio or even Otso.” Arttu shudders in horror at his mother’s naming preferences.
“The Bear King of the forest,” Jareth says, thankfully not commenting on the choice of names otherwise.
“Yes, the bear spirit. But my father wanted an English name. Something that wouldn’t make me stand out in an international school, or later on the supervisory board of a global corporation.” Arttu chuckles mirthlessly.
“Your father had great ambitions. And hedidname you after the great king.”
“They compromised on the Finnish version of the name,” Arttu disagrees.
Jareth’s hands slip down to cup Arttu’s ass. “You have no idea what my ancestors would have done to get their hands on a human king, but I prefer you.”
Arttu’s heart jumps to his throat. Is Jareth serious?
Flinching, Jareth moves to pull away as if he said something forbidden. Arttu can’t have that. He leans forward and kisses Jareth with fervor, pressing his body against Jareth’s and reveling in the delicious feeling of fine clothes against bare skin.
Jareth growls against his lips and wraps his hand around Arttu’s neck to pull him closer.Fucking finally.Arttu moans and rolls his hips. He can feel that Jareth is hard inside the confines of his trousers, and Arttu rubs his own erection against him. He doesn’t care how desperate he seems, he wants to feel Jareth’s hands on him again.
“You can have me,” Arttu whispers against Jareth’s lips, before he licks into his mouth and nibbles at his bottom lip. The sting of Jareth’s teeth, definitely sharper than a human’s, is a mesmerizing sensation.