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Dizzy	By : sisterstyx Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 3924 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrith or any of its characters. The plot, however, is all me. I make no money from this, but can be bribed with feedback.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
I'm trying to make up for the long gap in updates as well as stock pile against one in the future, so don't squander it all in one go!
I'm quite proud of the last bit, please tell me what you think!!! Too slow, unclear, juuuuust right? Also, don't hesitate with questions or suggestions!
And remember, love-->reviews-->more updates-->more LOVE!
To my reviewers:
J Wolfe : Sorry about short chapters, but I don't want to draw this out too long! And you know full well everyone loves cliffhangers!
Ailith : Well thank you so much! I'm flattered and hope my updates justify it all ;)
moira hawthorne : Thank you for the continued support! I hope I fixed the scrolling issue!
Phantom_Obsession: I'm glad it's original, I've read hundreds and, while memory loss isn't unheard of, I think I've addressed it in a unique way. I'm more worried about how well the fluff/smut stuff is going!
Kim_10 : Thanks!!! I hope you keep reading!
Ciao bellas!
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For the first time, she saw his face. The swift arch of his eyebrows, the delicate curve of his nose, the flawless alabaster skin, the strong jaw, elegant cheekbones and arrogant smirk.
The mere sight of him brought a heat up from her no-longer-lead stomach to tinge her chest and face red, a reaction she attempted to hide behind a meager smile. She noticed, however, that he had the opposite reaction; as his smirk slid from his face, the color drained with it, leaving his skin a chalky white against the pale spill of his hair. His eyes did not turn away from her, however, though she could hear the King continue to speak to him.
"Well I'm quite exhausted from our journey. I could do with a good nap before dinner. Couldn't you, my dear?" The jovial ruler of the Underground turned to his wife who had stepped forward to place a chaste kiss on Jareth's cheek in greeting.
"If you wish, darling. Jareth, I assume our usual rooms have been prepared?" Jareth just managed to tear his eyes away from one mortal woman in his midst to reply distractedly.
"Yes, of course." He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the High Queen cut him off.
"Excellent. Shall we, darling?" She stepped back to her husband and laced her arm with his.
"Ah yes, my dear." He began to lead her from the large room, back to the hall they'd entered from. "Jareth my boy, why don't you give the Lady Sarah a look around, if she's not too tired from the ride here." Jareth and Sarah's heads snapped to look at each other behind the king's back.
"Yes, your majesty," Sarah and Jareth mumbled in unison as the Kings entourage followed their ruler from the formal chamber. Their eye watched as each left the room, waiting for the sound of echoing footsteps to fade down the hall. They both realized at the same moment that they were alone. Together.
"How are you feel--"
"I'm sorry abou--" They spoke over each other and stopped mid sentence. Sarah could feel the Goblin King's gaze on her, though she had yet to look him in the eye again. She wasn’t sure her stomach could handle the full force of his gaze; it was currently bunched up around her throat as it was. She heard him clear his throat and resigned herself (or rewarded herself, she wasn't quite sure which) and met his eye.
She thought she might feint. He was closer to her than she'd thought and the shear beauty of him made her breath hitch and her heart skip a beat. He wore tight, dove grey breeches, a soft white billowing poet's shirt, a deep burgundy leather jacket and knee high polished black leather boots. His hair tumbled about his face with purposeful abandon and his hands, clad in fine black leather gloves hung limply at his sides.
For the briefest moment, she looked into his unfathomable, mismatched eyes and she saw an emotion there she could not name. She was reminded of his strange behavior at the ball and had a thousand questions to ask. However, at the proximity of his powerful, lean, seductive form, her mind could not remember single one.
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"How are you feel--"
"I'm sorry abou--"
Jareth's question was cut off as his throat constricted around it. As Sarah turned to face him and met his eye, he was struck dumb by the woman before him. She was taller than he'd remembered--she must have grown in the last seven years--and her body had fully developed into that of a woman. The simple, but elegantly cut cream dress accentuated her round hips and full chest (he imagined a corset was to thank for that) and drew attention to her raven locks and sun-warmed skin.
His eyes searched her face and he silently noted the differences womanhood had made there. Her mouth was full and soft-looking, her cheeks had lost their vestiges of baby-fat making her cheekbones more pronounced, her chin was strong and stood up to the clean line of her jaw. But her eye, oh her eyes had not changed. Their bottle-green depths still called out to him, spoke to him of joy, wonder, mystery and secret pleasures he yearned to know. The cruelty, he knew, lurked just at the corner of her eye, waiting to come out, to cut and sneer and kill without feeling.
He knew their sting all to well.
His worry about her health and recovery was instantly shoved back by years of bitterness and self-loathing. He felt his trademark smirk slide back onto his slack mouth and his arm find a comforting resting place on his hip. He cocked an eyebrow at the stunning creating before him and cleared his throat before re-asking his previous question in a completely changed tone of voice.
"How are you feeling, Lady Sarah? I hope the Grand Palace has indulged in your recovery nicely."
She did not miss the change that overcame him. Yet, somehow, she didn't mind. She felt she might be better at handling this pompous Goblin King, rather than the worried one. She stood up straighter and tilted her chin slightly to accommodate for his height. She knew she was a guest at his court, ward of the High King or no, and needed to test the waters before she said something she oughtn't.
"I am much improved, your Majesty, although my memory still escapes me. The High King has been nothing but munificent in his care of me. I am indebted to the King and Queen and humbled by their generosity." She curtsied dramatically in feigned deference and gave a self-satisfied smirk to the floor. She did not miss his small chortle as she rose.
She then began to walk slowly towards a great window overlooking the Goblin City and the Labyrinth beyond. "I wish to apologize, your Highness, for my actions last time we met." Jareth stayed where he was, arms crossed, the cold metal of his pendant pressed firmly into his chest.
"Indeed," was his non-committed response.
"I am still naïve to most of the Underground's customs and meant no disrespect," she placed her hands on the sill of the window and caught her first good view of the Labyrinth. She hoped he didn't notice her small gasp of wonder at the sight and tried to continue in her same affected, dispassionate voice, "I was overcome with emotion at the regained memory and did not think before acting."
"One should rarely think before acting," Jareth responded close to her ear. He was pleased to see her slight jump at his sudden change in position. He could feel her back tense, although there remained a few inches between their bodies, however she made no move to distance herself from him.
"That is a dangerous code to live by." She replied, her gaze sweeping over the view below. She wondered if he could hear her heart's frantic beating against her ribcage. Breeze slipped over the sill and stirred her hair about her, bringing the heady, musky scent she'd already memorized as his to her nose. Her eye lids drooped at the sinful smell of him and her body tingled with apprehension, wanting him to reach out and touch her, but terrified at the same time.
He stood silently behind her, the same breeze playing across his face as he watched the sunlight pick streaks of auburn and hazelnut out of her dark tresses. His fingers itched in their gloves to reach out and take a strand of that hair between them; to test if it was a silky as it looked. His lips ached to taste her skin where shoulder meets neck and feel her pulse quicken under his tongue. He attempted to distract himself from leaning forward and capturing a mouthful of her tender flesh by trying to re-engage her in conversation.
"And what, Lady Sarah, do you think of my Labyrinth?" He tried to move himself away, but found his feet planted firmly by her side. "It is the most challenging and terrifying puzzle in the Underground." The small part of his brain that still held some self control silently pleaded with her to turn away at the same time the rest of his mind screamed that he should spin her around and kiss her senseless. In either case, the distance between his mouth and her supple skin was closing and, he distantly noted, his hand was beginning to rise to pull her hair out of his way. His voice was barely above a whisper, "It is undefeatable."
She felt her flesh prickle at the ghosting of his breath along the sensitive skin of her neck. She wanted nothing more than for him to press her against the stone wall and ravage every inch of her exposed skin with the sharp, hard lines of his lips. Yet her mind still maintained coherent conversation, "Really? I'd heard that it had been bested already." She was faintly proud at how steady her voice was, "and by a young girl, no less." Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the slightest touch of a gloved finger along her left shoulder.
"Ah, but it has been much improved since then," he watched the hairs on the back of her neck rise as he drew back her mane with agonizing slowness. "It is larger, harder, and more dangerous than ever before." His lips hovered a mere inch from her skin and he took a moment to smell her; the rich, earthy smell of coffee mixed with the lightest scent of peppermint. His other hand traveled to her hip without his bidding it.
Her eyes had closed so she could concentrate on the burning line he was drawing along her shoulder. Her fingers were white as they clung to the stone windowsill, anticipating her knees giving out any second. Dear God, he's not even touching me with his bare-hands, his skin against mine would surely drive me mad. She felt him exhale softly against her neck again and the warmth traveled straight down to the pit of her stomach where a heavy, but not unpleasant, throbbing had begun to beat in time with her pulse. "It doesn’t look that far to me." Her voice was breathy and she couldn't help but tilt her head slightly, affording him easier access to her hyper-sensitized flesh.
She could almost feel his soft chuckle from his chest through her taught back. "Ah, but it is further than you think." He applied pressure to her hip, closing the last inch between their bodies as his moth descended to close--
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Dizzy