The Goblin Bride (Beneath Sands Book 1)

did he move from his usual post on a ledge in the shadows. The soft snick of carving never faltered.
“Ruric. I can’t do this anymore. My family needs me. I have to go!”
“No. You will stay.”
He had gotten significantly better at her language. Continual practice had him easing into short sentences. She corrected him often and he didn’t seem to mind. It was all information that was useful to him in the long run.
“I’m not!”
The shout echoed in the bath, and for once he stilled.
“Quiet.”
“I will not be quiet! I want to go home!”
She didn’t know how to explain it any clearer. Yet he wasn’t responding to her. He shook his head as though trying to get the sound out of his ears, but he returned to carving without a word.
At least she could see him now. It took very little begging for her to convince him to carry those globes with them wherever they went so she could see. Now he left them in the places that they frequented and made his rounds to shake them awake every time they entered a new cave.
“Ruric.” She pleaded.
“Jane.” It was a warning, a tone she had never heard before.
“I’m done with this foolishness, Ruric. Take me home.”
“No.” He stood this time, turning to go.
She couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t simply turn away from her because he didn’t agree with her.
“You cannot say no!” She shouted.
It didn’t take much to scoop up one of the rocks on the edge of the pool. It took even less to launch it at his back.
She had never had very good aim. Her brother had tried to teach her time and time again. But for some reason, Jane had never been able to hit anything. When others could hit a post from yards away, she had trouble hitting the side of a tent while standing right next to it.
This toss rang true. It veered wider and lower than she had aimed. She had hoped to hit him solidly on his thick skull. Instead, she grazed the top of his shoulder. The stone was sharp enough to leave a welt and hard enough to sting.
Ruric paused, his big body shuddering for a moment before he was turning on his heel and launching himself at her.
The grace in his body was something to be admired. He was like one of those desert cats that stalked their prey in the sands. Muscles bunched over shoulders and thighs as he moved. He was so fluid that he could have been made of liquid himself. All she could think was that the creature moving towards her was filled with power and grace. It was a fanciful thought, especially when she was stumbling backwards until her spine pressed hard against the edge of the pool.
He loomed above her, eyes blacker than she had ever seen before. His chest rose and expanded above her, nearly pressing against her as he caged her between his strong arms.
His head and all those sharp teeth came down, blunted nose traveling along the length of her neck. She recognized the reaction. The deep inhale, the slight shudder that travelled down his spine. He was smelling her, tasting the air for fear.
She knew how to react. It was the same thing she would do for a feral dog. Running from them or instigating their anger in any way could cause them to lose control. They would revert entirely to a beast.
She could feel the rumble from his chest against her own. It rocked through her, the growl the only thing she could hear over the sound of her own heartbeat.
Once again his nose trailed up her throat, arms shaking beside her until she realized just how close to the edge he was. Perhaps, after the long time that he had been taking care of her, he had been holding back as well.
It seemed unusual to her. He had been so powerful in the tunnel when she first saw him. A force of wild nature that she could never have thought tamed. In her dreams, she still felt his hand wrapped around her braid as he tossed her against the rocks. The side of him she had lived with for a week was contrasting almost too much to the warrior she had seen before.
This was what she had expected. The beast that was held tightly bound underneath an exterior of strength and power.
She held very still as his lips parted and those teeth were held against her ear.
“No.”
The word was barely recognizable. It vibrated through his throat with a hint of that strange language the goblins spoke it.
She was not fool enough to fight against him. Not like this. She stayed as still as she dared, her fists pressed hard against his sternum. If he wanted to press forward she could not stop him.
He did not though. As always he held himself tightly in check. His arms shook with force as he held himself still.
“I have to go home.” She whispered quietly, knowing he would hear her. This time she saw the shudder that quaked the muscles of his shoulders.
“You cannot.”
He could not let her go. Ruric knew that well. He had tried desperately to keep her comfortable. Everything that had been in his to take, she had been given. Food, water, shelter, warm baths every day. He chased the others from gawking at her because he knew she was uncomfortable with even his stares.
He went against all training, every thought, and understanding that he had known. Still she refused to be happy. The others teased him mercilessly, claiming that he was faulty. Incapable of pleasing a female. It couldn’t be that hard and yet he was failing. He, the bravest of them all!
She refused to listen to him. She refused to see reason. She was as stubborn and hard headed as the worst goblin he had ever met in his life. And through the entire ordeal she had made more and more demands of him. Had he