Page 12 of Goblin Candy

“Good luck! And be gentle,” she teases. “Love you back.”

Shoving the dress back into my closet, I pick the phone back up off my bed and give her a loud, smacking kiss before disconnecting the call and turning to my dresser. Pulling open a drawer, I start digging through the pile with enough energy that my pentacle swings rapidly on its chain beneath my chin. Although Night of the Living Dead is a compelling horror marathon shirt, I end up deciding on Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, with its low scoop neckline. I can sex it up a tiny bit while keeping to the spirit of the night. It takes little time for me to pull on the shirt and my ghostly “boo!” leggings before I’m all set.

Now—to wait.

I absently fiddle with the chunky garnet ring on my index finger as I head into my living room. My throw blanket was washed this morning, since I will hopefully be having company under it, but now I’m a fidgety mess with nowhere in particular to direct my nervous energy. Everything is as ready as it can be. That doesn’t stop me from prowling around, double checking everything anxiously so that when the doorbell rings, I jump in spite of myself before hurrying over to answer it.

Grimsal smiles at me when I pull the door open, a single rose clasped between his claws of such a deep red color that it almost appears black. I stare at the bud wordlessly as he hands it to me. Did fae beings have similar courtship rituals? How would he know to bring flowers—or rather a flower—on a date? Stepping back away from the door so that he can enter, I bring the flower up to my nose an inhale its rich musky perfume appreciatively. He watches me curiously.

“You like it?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I murmur, closing the door behind him. “I love black roses. How did you know?”

“I didn’t, but when I saw it, I just knew that I had to have it for you. It reminds me of your beauty, all clad in darkness, when I first saw you. I’m glad that I spent the eight hours watching films on human courtship. I would never have suspected a flower to be so significant or to bring such pleasure,” he chuckles with a gleeful grin.

My lips curl in response. “This is very sweet, thank you,” I murmur, giving the rose another sniff. “I’m impressed that you went out of your way to try to figure out what I like. I’m going to go put it in water.”

He looks at me askance and follows me back to the kitchen. “I would be a poor suitor if I did not at least make the effort. I can’t assume that you would have the same customs as goblins, though I think you might find ours interesting.” He suddenly grins impishly, stealing my heart just a little. “I must confess that I can’t take credit for all of it. A male I met in the hotel elevator was quite helpful with some ideas for what he called chick flicks, though I’m not sure what throwing hatchlings has to do with it. But I did greatly enjoyYou’ve Got Mail.”

He glances at me with a certain light in his eye that makes my pulse race. “I was not aware that humans have hunting traditions in their courtship. Although the male in the film used daisies, it was still quite educational. Then there wasPretty Woman, andKate and Leopoldwhich had some bizarre improbabilities of time travel,” he ticks off on his fingers. “He also laughed and suggestedShrek, but I couldn’t determine what was so funny. Though the male is an ogre and not a goblin, it did speak to your mating customs quite well when it comes to interspecies mating, I thought.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. He’s simply adorable.

His eyes dart around my kitchen curiously as I bend over to pull a glass vase from under the sink. When I straighten, however, I notice that his gaze is trained on me with an open hunger that makes my belly clench in recognition.

“But then, you are a far more beautiful sight and twice as delectable than any mere flower,” he murmurs with a soft purr that does funny things to my insides.

I swallow, both nervous and excited by the implications of what might come. Concealing my nerves beneath a bold smile, I gesture back to the living room with the rose.

“Shall we? I hope you don’t mind, but I preselected some of the movies I planned to watch, though if you dislike any of them I’m open to changing my lineup.” I would be a little disappointed since they are my favorite movies, but I’d be willing to do it.

To my delight, he favors me with another easy grin, his tousled dark hair falling over one eye as he shakes his head. Although longer in style than what many men wear, with his inky hair brushing just below his collar, it’s still shorter in comparison to the styles many fae males who relocate to our world wear.

“I’m to understand these are horror movies, correct?”

I nod eagerly, pleased with his show of interest. “I’m not really into slasher movies so they are more of the supernatural type—mostly ghost movies tonight,” I amend with a laugh. “I’m afraid that I have a favorite line-up that I love to watch every year of the undead taking their wrath out on the living, whether that be ghosts, zombies or vampires.”

There. Now he knows what he’s in for and has an opening to back out if he wants or suggest something different. Instead, he nods and thoughtfully purses his lips.

“We goblins have several yearly festivals to celebrate our dead, some of which can involve similar themes of vengeful spirits that require appeasing and deadly ones who kill the living. Though I don’t understand everything about your celebration, I like this concept about your Halloween since it’s familiar. In our villages we regale each other with such tales over massive fires built in the village center. Your movie selection sounds ideal to me. Such tales, naturally, also inspire other life-affirming activities and pleasures. It’s not strange to see adults sneak off,” he adds, his eyes gleaming with a promise that I certainly hope happens.

“Scary stuff makes you horny, huh?” I manage to laugh despite how dry my mouth has suddenly become. “I guess the Hellraiser franchise wouldn’t do so well if there wasn’t an audience of humans who found the crossover between fear and eroticism so enticing as well.”

“Such delightful similarities between our species,” he murmurs as his eyes rake over me. “Though I think my culture would still shock humans to a degree. What of you? Do you enjoy the blend of the erotic with fear?”

My pulse jumps at his words and the dark promise within them. “I certainly think that there is something to be said for an edge of the unknown,” I whisper. “There’s something to be said for falling prey to it and to be consumed by the desires it ignites within you without any shame for having them.”

A wicked smile curves his lips, and he raises his hand to draw his claw gently down the side of my neck. “And do you wish to be prey?”

I shiver under his touch and tilt my head when he comes closer and brushes my nose, tracking over the same skin he touched. He inhales as if dragging in the brief mingling of our scents from where he’s touched me.

“Do you?” he prompts, his hot breath stirring against my skin as my eyes drift shut with the anticipation of pleasure.

Do I? Suddenly I’m uncertain. Despite how sweet he is, there is something about him and his words that makes me think that there may be an intensity to it all that I’m not prepared for. So why does that make me hotter, my pussy creaming eagerly to be pursued?

He inhales again and groans. “I think that you do.”

I quiver in place, waiting for his touch, waiting for him to take this further. But he hums happily in his throat and steps away. My eyes snap open, and I stare at him in disbelief, but he’s already turned away and is heading toward the couch.

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