Goblin's Bride
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About this ebook
Elgar left his home in the Grimfer Mountains to start a new life away from goblinkind. In the village of Fairbrook he finds a steady market for his wares, a fine burrow in the woods nearby, and something he never counted on: a bride. After meeting her, he wakes the next day with a peculiar fever that worsens day by day. He suffers taunting dreams and can’t stop thinking of her. She’s human; he’s a goblin, but his condition can’t be denied. He’s found his mate. A bond between them can’t work, or can it?
Anastasia Rabiyah
Anastasia writes erotic romance, paranormal erotic romance, and dark fantasy. She often crosses genres in order to follow her muses into the darkness where they seek out destiny in all its forms. She believes in fairies, demons, angels, magic, passion, chocolate, supportive friends, e-books, and writing critique groups. Her deepest desire is to pursue her creative dreams and realize them. Every spare moment she devotes to writing for her haunting muses.
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Goblin's Bride - Anastasia Rabiyah
Goblin’s Bride
Anastasia Rabiyah
Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC at Smashwords
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
GOBLIN’S BRIDE
Copyright © 2011 ANASTASIA RABIYAH
ISBN 978-1-61292-009-2
Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah
Edited By Shoshana Hurwitz
Prince Charming may not always be charming, handsome, or polite, but he always manages to rescue his damsel in distress, and in the end, that’s all that matters.
Chapter One
Elgar slipped down from his horse when he heard the young woman weeping. Tired from the long ride to Fairbrook village, he brushed his claws over his tunic and cracked his neck. He’d come to peddle his wares, but mostly to get away from his kind and start a new life. A goblin born and raised, he had never fit in with his kin, not that he favored humans. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He’d been taught to hate them, to use them, or to wile them out of their gold at any given chance. Still, as he tossed his mount’s reins over a low-hanging tree limb and lashed them into a knot, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the woman.
She sat on a carved bench by the river, her face buried in her hands, and her long, brown hair loose. The breeze fluttered tendrils of it over her rich, white gown. She didn’t seem to hear his approach, too preoccupied by her melancholy to look up.
What’s the matter, pretty one?
Elgar called out to her, keeping his voice smooth. The day is fine and warm. There’s a sweet breeze from the north, and you’ve a fanciful dress to wear. Why do you cry?
Her shoulders heaved. She sobbed and raised her face, tear-stained and grim. Her bright green eyes fascinated him, for they resembled the color of emeralds, the gem he preferred. I am to wed today,
she choked out, and I do not love him.
She stared at Elgar in the same way all humans do, pondering his strangeness, but she, at least, held her tongue. Neither did she scream nor run.
That’s foul,
he said, not overly concerned with her predicament. Who was he to care one way or the other? He had no reason to comfort her, and yet, he sat on the narrow bench and placed an arm over her quaking shoulder.
She paused before scooting closer to him and doing the strangest of things. The weeping woman buried her face in his tunic, threw her arms about him, and hugged him. Elgar knew he was no prize to look upon by goblin marks, or by the standards of humans, who normally shunned all but their own. He tensed in her grief-stricken embrace for a time. She smelled pleasant, perfumed as she was with the scent of roses. Her pretty hair felt soft on his cheek when he bent his head to touch his face to it. He breathed deep and closed his eyes, thinking to make the best of her affection, for it would surely be gone when she realized she clung to a goblin.
Muscles eased and the awkward feeling parted. He drew his clawed fingers tighter around her shoulders. No female, goblin or otherwise, had ever shown him such attention. It struck him as odd, but he didn’t mind so much.
Will you help me?
she pled, her words broken by sobs. Oh, please, help me.
He cleared his throat and realized she only wanted to use him, like any human. How would I do such a thing?
He held her and did not let go, though. Even if she were a traitorous human bent on wheedling aid from him, he enjoyed her closeness. Being alone had been his lot in life since leaving the Grimfer Mountains and even prior to that parting.
I don’t know,
she cried. I don’t know what’s to be done. He’ll come by the road yonder any moment now. My father...he’ll be looking for me. The guests are waiting in the little chapel by the mill.
Sure enough, a man’s voice bellowed from farther along from the wood, shouting over and over, Isabella!
Elgar nodded. He relinquished his grip on the woman and stood, only she did not let go of him. She clung about his lithe body and looked up at him with her emerald eyes. Gazing at her pleased him. He didn’t belong here with her, much less in the mess he knew he was about to throw himself into, but he forced a jagged goblin’s smile and said, I’ll help you.
Oh, thank you, sir,
she gushed. I will be forever grateful to you.
He pondered an asking price, a trade for his help. Her beauty seared him, and he longed simply to hold her a while more. Perhaps we will see each other again when this terrible time is through.
Standing, he shrugged and waved a hand at her to go and find her father in the woods.
She pointed toward the road. There, just there is my fiancé.
She backed into the trees, fear plain in her eyes. Please, don’t let him take me.
Isabella?
he asked, squinting at the lone rider who approached. The man wore fine clothes, a bold red cape trailing behind him. Not that Elgar bore any attraction to human males, but this one seemed a fine specimen with his golden curls and chiseled face. He rode along looking proud and determined.
Yes?
she answered in a meek voice.
What’s wrong with him?
I don’t like him at all,
she explained. "I would be miserable for the rest of my years if I had to marry him."
Elgar scratched his thick mane of hair before tucking a lock behind one pointed ear. He pondered the easiest method to dispose of the oncoming suitor. Lowering his gaze to the ground, he spied a fine round rock and grinned a cunning goblin’s grin. Bending, he took hold of it and tested its weight in his hand. Thinking this all too easy, he took aim, reared his throwing