Rogue's Pawn (28 page)

Chapter
Thirty-Three

In Which I Am Taken by Surprise

“Oh, for heavens’ sake, Starling, I just went to get some whiskey.”

“You should have taken me with you.” Starling walked with stiff stubbornness beside me, ostensibly to show me the new tent location.

“What, you’re my babysitter now?”

Starling stopped. Her face crumpled. Was it me, or did her hair look less blond suddenly?

“Hey—” I reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry. I just…” I rubbed my face with my hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Starling wiped away a tear. “You’re just under a lot of pressure.” She placed her hand over mine. “I understand. I really do.”

I let it go, even as I was tempted to confide in her. As we continued our walk, Starling fell silent and I indulged in the sweet sizzle of anticipation of seeing Liam later. Or tried. Now that the moment had passed, I felt a bit less enthused. Hopefully this wasn’t a bad idea. And me, for the one-night stand?

Not really in character for me.

Of course, none of this was, anymore. I had been reborn into a new world. I could be whoever the hell I wanted to be. One orgasm with a man—a human man—and I’d have another data point on the sex-and-magic thing.

I ignored the sneaky voice whispering that I wasn’t being exactly rational. Who could blame me? I deserved a little fun, didn’t I?

Still, when it came time to sneak out like some guilty teenager, my stomach clenched. The camp was as silent as it ever became, which wasn’t much. Starling, though, had long since gone to bed and I’d dismissed Larch’s guys. Good thing I’d already established a rep for being temperamental and sending servants packing, willy-nilly.

I kept the Ann Taylor sorceress dress on, so I could pretend to be working still, if anyone checked on me. And fiddled at my workbench for the same reason. My grimoire had been set in a place of honor, writing tools next to it. The vial of dragon’s blood stood off to the side, where it couldn’t be carelessly bumped.

I didn’t feel like messing with either one.

On a sudden thought, I jumped up and rummaged through my trunk. My heart fluttered in a bit of panic, until my fingers closed over the wooden box. I yanked it out and unwrapped the glass globe from its cocoon of silk.

Undisturbed by the move, the crystal swirled with living night, glinting feral blue. I could feel the silk sweep of Rogue’s obsidian hair, almost scent him through the glass.

Shaking off the sense that I was somehow being unfaithful to Rogue, I nevertheless tucked the marble into the pocket of my skirt, even as I turned at the slight noise behind me.

A kind of creature I hadn’t seen before stood inside my tent flaps.

He was a shriveled, sooty skeleton. Like a doll made of pipe cleaners that had been set on fire and quickly doused. My skin crawled at the sight.

The creature beckoned me with a silent gesture. I stopped and pulled on my cloak, wishing it to black for discretion. I kept the heels high, though my feet ached from being in them all day. This was, after all, a date. I looked in the mirror and tried to drum up my earlier excitement, but the woman in it stared back at me with dark green sobriety.

The glass marble in my pocket felt obscurely comforting. Odd since Rogue would likely not wish to bolster me on this particular project. I turned back and grabbed my dagger, putting it in my cloak pocket for good measure.

I followed the thing through the shadowed back pathways of camp. We avoided the parties that still continued. The shrieking, dancing and merrymaking faded to the edges.

Beyond the twin circles of light from both camps, a shrouded figure stood next to a dark horse. Liam tipped back his hood, his curls silver in the starlight. He held out a hand to me and I took it, the size of it startling me. Had I expected long, slim fingers?

Get a goddamn grip
.

He drew me toward him and I hesitated, glancing to see where the stick creature went.

I might also have checked for amber eyes watching from the shadows.

“I hope you don’t mind the golem, Lady Sorceress,” Liam said softly. Of course his sharp warrior’s eyes would notice me checking for attack. “I borrowed it from a friend. Some people don’t like it, but with you being a sorceress and all…”

“It’s fine. Totally fine.”

“Let’s go then.” Liam stopped. Turned back and touched my cheek with reverence. “This night—it means everything to me, Lady Sorceress,” he whispered with rough passion.

“Jennifer,” I said.

“Lady?”

“The other name—that’s what the fae call me.”

“Of course, Jynnfahr. Thank you for that privilege.”

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes when he turned his back to climb on the horse and managed a smile for him when he held down a hand for me to mount behind him. I settled in, wrapping my arms around him for stability. Fortunate that he hadn’t wanted me in front of him. That might have led to groping and, well, I just wasn’t quite in the mood, yet. Never mind that the image of Dragonfly wilting on the front of Titania’s horse still haunted me.

This is a mistake.

This is important research and don’t you dare chicken out now.

“Second thoughts?” Liam asked softly.

I turned my cheek into his woolish cloak. It smelled of leather and man, sweat and horse. Not unpleasant. Liam’s horse had a smooth gait and the night flew past.

“No.” I barely whispered it.

“Lady—I mean, Jen?”

“No.” I said it louder. “Just anxious to get there.”

Liam chuckled. A satisfied, masculine sound.

I could hear the waves crashing on the shore by the time we pulled up at a dark cottage. Liam held out an arm for me to steady myself as I dismounted. He swung down and brought the reins around to tie off the horse on a stunted tree in front. My hand slid into my cloak pocket, fingers wrapping around the now-familiar dagger handle. Just as Liam had taught me.

Nothing like making yourself vulnerable to the guy who taught you everything you know about hand-to-hand. I’d better be ready with some spells.

“Isn’t the enemy camp nearby?” I asked Liam.

He turned to me. “You don’t trust me? Why are you here if you don’t trust me?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“We rode out at a diagonal—the enemy camp is on the other side of the strand.” Liam’s face was stone. “And I think I should take you back now.”

“No!” I grabbed a handful of his cloak. “I’m just…nervous. You know. It’s been a long day.”

Liam softened, tipped the hood of my cloak back and cupped my face with his hands. Two hands at a time, I thought—cheating.

No, this was good. No bargains here. No deceit. Oh, except maybe on my part.
Not enough to break an oath, that’s what matters.

I held still as Liam lowered his bronze head. Then, better, slid my hands into his parted cloak and set them on his waist. He grunted in satisfaction and kissed me.

A soft brush of his lips, followed by deeper kisses, urging me to my earlier heat. He’d shaved smooth now and smelled of what I would have called bay rum in my old world. I opened my mouth to him, and he kissed me deeply.

I tried to give over to it. Waited for the swimming spin of desire.

Not quite there.

“Let’s go inside. I’ll build you a fire and we can do this properly.”

I realized then I was shivering slightly.

Liam untied his weapons from the horse and urged me inside, one hand at the small of my back. He knelt at the hearth of a stone fireplace that seemed large for the tiny cottage. Wrapped in my cloak still, I watched Liam work at lighting the fire on the cold hearth. Clearly no one had been here for some time. Another chill ran through me.

Liam cursed softly as the tiny flame he nursed went out yet again.

With a heartfelt wish, I lit the fire. Not difficult at all.

Liam started back in astonishment, then looked over his shoulder at me. “That’s the second time I forgot the company I’m keeping.”

“Liam—about those rules. You should know—”

He rose and walked up to me. Calloused fingers touched my cheek. “Whatever part you wish to give.” He ran his fingers over my hair, the way he might gentle a horse. “Shiny as a raven’s wing,” he whispered. “Trust me, Lady Sorceress.”

I nodded, unable to speak. His fingers tightened in my hair and his lips dove to claim mine. I tried to relax into it.

“Would my Lady Sorceress remove her cloak?” He raised his head, watching my face intently.

I unfastened the cloak and let it drop to the floor. His eyes darkened and he ran his hands down my bare arms.

“I hoped you’d be wearing this dress still, which clings to you like night itself.” He bent to rain kisses on my shoulders, then my throat when my head dropped back. His arms slid behind my back to support me and I gave myself up to them.

“A lot of poetic words for a soldier,” I remarked, losing the words in a gasp as his mouth brushed the upper curves of my breasts. I tried not to think of Rogue holding me like this. Of the profound thrill of his lips on my skin.

Stay in the moment.

“All warriors are poets, don’t you think?” He raised his head, caramel eyes serious. “We deal death—what is more profound than that? And this. This a warrior also knows—the other side of death’s coin.” He dropped his eyes to my bosom. Holding me arched back in his muscled left arm, he raised his right hand to lightly trace the curves, then looked into my eyes with a wicked gleam. “This is what I wanted to do in the feast tent, when I saw your nipples peaked for me.”

He slid one finger between my breasts and pulled the dress down abruptly so my breasts sprang free. I gasped and his grip tightened on me. He licked lavish strokes around my nipples, on the so-sensitive undersides of my breasts, then returned to the nipples to lip at them. I fell back in his arms, concentrating on enjoying this. I strangled a startled cry when he nipped one nipple, then drew it into his mouth hard and fast.

“You can call out,” he muttered. “There’s no one near enough to hear.”

I must have tensed at that because he looked at me, then set me on my feet. I struggled to pull my head together, strangely embarrassed to stand in front of him with my breasts bare, shining wet from his attentions.

“You still look for ambush here?” he asked, face grave.

I closed my eyes, then gave in and folded my hands over my bosom, hiding myself from his too-intent stare. He waited.

“Yes,” I finally said. “I’m not what you call a trusting soul.” Scarred, broken and bleeding was what I was. Funny how Rogue seemed to understand that about me, alternately bullying and coaxing me, not letting me think too much.

All mind-reading, most likely.

And why the hell was I thinking about goddamned Rogue?

Liam ran his hand down my hair, until the ends filtered through his fingertips.

“I want this.” I made my tone firm.
Convincing yourself?
whispered the sneaky voice. “Tonight I don’t want to be a sorceress. I just want to feel like an ordinary woman again.”

“I haven’t much experience in the ways of sorcery.” He brushed his fingers over my hands, then slowly guided them down to my sides. “But I know something about pleasuring women. Let me pleasure you, Lady Sorceress.” He knelt down so his head was level with my bosom and dipped his head to lay a kiss on each trembling pink nipple, like a hummingbird tasting flowers.

“Call me Jennifer.”

“Lady Jyn.” His voice slid around the kisses. “Let me undress you.”

I turned and held up my hair, explaining how to draw down the foreign zipper. His nibbling kisses slid down my spine as the black dress fell away from me. Liam turned me and gave me his hand to step out of the pool of my dress. Still kneeling, his head came to my chin, even in my heels. As he swept my nearly naked body then met my eyes with that wicked smile, the surge of desire from him hit me like a drug. I soaked it in, shaking off the uncomfortable memory of Marquise watching me with avid Christmas-ornament eyes.

“Will you leave the shoes on for me, for now? I’ve never seen anything like them, but they seem made for a naked woman, for sex.” His hands tugged in my hair, pulling my head back while he feasted on my rib cage, on my belly.

“Where I come from,” I told him, “some people call them come-fuck-me shoes.”

“I like that,” he growled. “I like your foreign garments and all of your invitations, Lady Sorceress.” Then he released my hair, slid my panties down to my ankles and dug his fingers into my ass, holding my groin to be consumed next.

Funny, his hunger for me had become more interesting than what I felt. When he nuzzled my thighs apart, I let him, distantly observing that the stroking of his tongue, while pleasant, didn’t hold a candle to the rush of feeling him want me. With Rogue, my own desire had risen up to match his. I began to wonder if this experiment would fail. I put a hand on Liam’s head, ready to disappoint him.

With a crack of ebony, the room broke in two.

Liam dropped me and I fell in a disgraceful heap, askew on my heels, tangled in my panties.

Rogue stood over us, a slash of cobalt black, a silver sword blazing in the now-billowing firelight.

Chapter
Thirty-Four

On the Beach

With a seasoned warrior’s reflexes, Liam ducked the lethal swing of Rogue’s sword.

And with shocking alacrity, he grabbed his own sword and shot out the door.

“Hello, Gwynn,” Rogue said with ice-blue calm. “You’re looking…lovely tonight.” The black lines crawled over the left side of his face like vipers.

I wrenched out of the one heel still clinging to my toes, scrabbled my feet under me and crouched, shielding myself from his deadly glare.

“Don’t fret, you’ll have time to dress yourself while I dispatch that impertinent human. Then you and I have things to discuss.” He paused, dark thoughts swirling that I couldn’t quite catch. Was he…hurt? Surely not. “We need to talk.”

Rogue turned and strode out the door before I could gasp out another word.

Liam. Oh, no.

“Rogue! Don’t you dare hurt him!” I yelled out, yanking up my panties. Where they should have stayed, dammit, if I had any sense. I pulled on my dress and flung myself out the cottage door, trying to get the zipper at least partway up and scanning the night for the sounds of conflict.

All I could hear was surf.

Clouds scudded across the sky, dashing themselves against the moon and fleeing again.

I ran for the beach, the snaky grasses grabbing at my toes, slicing at my ankles. The soil turned to sand under my tender soles and I burst like a wild thing onto the clear shore. The moonlight reflected cool blue on the fine sand.

Rogue and Liam fought, silhouetted against the phosphorescent surf.

Liam surged in close, his shorter, stockier frame wedging up underneath Rogue’s sword arm, grappling with him in a maneuver even I could see was desperate. As I struggled through the sinking sand toward them, Rogue yanked Liam’s head back by his hair. Liam thrashed, but Rogue held him with ease. He took a step back and stretched Liam out, holding him with unnatural strength while he brought his sword around, and laid the tip against Liam’s chest.

I remembered who had all the power.

“No!” I screamed.

The crashing surf swallowed the sound.

But Rogue looked up at me. His eyes captured the moonlight and shone with an impossible cobalt reflection. He cast Liam aside, a rag doll on the sand.

He strode toward me, an avenging demon, the wind whipping his long black hair, those eyes shining as bright as the sword he carried.

I lost all breath.

He seized me by the throat with his left hand, firm but not hurting me. Even now, one hand only.

“Why?” he thundered in my face. His skin gleamed glacier-cold in the moonlight. The black pattern of his face looked larger, more complex. As if it were visibly growing. “All the time I watched you, waited for you. How is it that you don’t feel what is between us? You drive me to despair, Gwynn. How could you deny me the least crumb and offer that dreg of a human everything?”

Not even a squeak escaped my throat. I had no ability to answer.

Oh, but I did.

So I showed him. My terror and desire. The rage I felt at his betrayal. How I was still spiraling down the rabbit hole he’d shoved me into. The sickening fear of what he might do to a child I bore. What Titania might do. I threw all my thoughts and emotions at Rogue, fierce and as loud as I could make it.

He threw back his head and howled to the sky. Despair, yes. It raked cold claws through my heart.

Spikes of ebony lines crawled up his chest, over his neck and spread across his face like a virus.

His hand clenched convulsively on my throat and I scrabbled at it, suddenly desperate for air. Through the crack of the surf, another wet splitting noise filled my ears. The sound of bones snapping, the sickening snap of flesh rending.

Rogue’s howl of pain sharpened into true anguish, physical and emotional. I felt it more keenly than if it happened to me.

His hand released and I fell to the chill sand, staring up in utter horror as Rogue’s body bent back into a crescent, splitting open in a spray of midnight blood.

Glossy black, the blood fountained impossibly up, arcing to fall on the sand. Rogue’s body collapsed back, shredded and empty, more blood than any body could hold, creating a grotesque rainbow, gathering, coalescing into a shape.

Until, shining in the moonlight, the Dog crouched with me on the sand, the shattered remnants of Rogue and the silver sword between us. My heart shattered, too.

Amber eyes shone.

He cocked his head at me, that square head massive in the moonlight. He stood, stretching, languid as a cat, and paced to me. The smell of bloody flesh caught his attention, and he paused to sniff at the fleshy bits that had been Rogue.

“Goddammit, no!”

The snarl burst out of me and I found myself launching at the Dog. In fury, I slammed into it. Rage at myself for not seeing the truth. At Rogue for not telling me. We rolled on the sand, snarling and grappling. Its growls mixed with the surf. I shrieked and pounded its hot sleek hide.

A wild thing.

Cold saltwater hit me, swamped my lungs. The Dog was abruptly gone and I struggled to hold on to the sand. Singing filled my ears, far off in the distance. The waves tugged at my dress, begging me to come out to sea. The old passions of infinite souls poured through me. So easy to go, to fall under and away. Succumb to the cold waters of the despair that had dragged Rogue under.

All my fault.

The sharp grains of sand bit under my nails as I crawled out of the water.

A chill breeze hit me. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The clouds dashing around the sky gathered together, competing to hide the moon.

Dark streaks of blood marred my arms and breasts where the Dog’s fangs had snagged me. The fragile spaghetti straps of my dress had snapped. Too much strain. I tugged at the soaked bodice, managing to wrestle it back in place somewhat. The salt stung in my wounds.

I crawled up the sand, sodden hair in snarled threads around my face. I found Rogue’s body. Impossibly rent. A small keening noise escaped me. And I’d thought he was indestructible. Had counted on it, somewhere deep inside. But I’d turned out to be his weakness. I wondered why he hadn’t carried out his threat to kill me. The Dog crouched over him. Guardian. Crosser of boundaries. Would he escort Rogue’s spirit to yet another realm? Or was Rogue in there, somewhere, trapped by his own subconscious?

The wind tugged at my wet dress, slapping the soaked tendrils of my hair against my stinging skin. This world was just as real as the one I’d left. More real, in many ways. Just as Rogue connected with me more vividly, more viscerally than any man I’d known. Surely that meant something.

It couldn’t be too late.

I stared down the Dog. Oh no. I had no intention of losing now.

Or, maybe losing was what it took to win.