Rogue’s Possession

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Unaccountably moved, I laid my palm on that smooth, bright skin. He stilled, something vulnerable shadowing through the depths of his gaze. I rarely touched him of my own accord, and I wondered if his taunting me to do so was more than just goading. It might mask some sincere desire to be close to me. It would be lovely to think so.

  My heart shifted, losing another layer of the cynical Teflon I’d tried to coat it with. I stroked his skin, breathing in that scent of mace.

  He smiled, clearly amused by me. “Would you rather set up an interrogation, fierce Gwynn? Browbeat Blackbird into revealing her secrets?”

  Rather than face another interminable feast? Why, yes. Yes, I would. “I suppose that would be rude. Why is she afraid?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “She knows you come seeking her secrets. Wouldn’t you be afraid?”

  “No.” I considered it. “I might be wary or defensive, but not afraid.”

  “Perhaps the consequences for revealing yours are not so heinous.”

  “Strong word.”

  “You must decide what is more important to you—your goals or hers.”

  I didn’t want to contemplate that much. I sighed, indulging myself by tracing his elegant ear, while I thought. No elfin spike, but his auricular helix twisted with intriguing otherworldly spirals, tempting me to taste them with my tongue. Would he shiver under my touch as I did with his? The visceral bond between us tightened, sending a darker thread of pleasure through my groin.

  “Taste me and find out,” he whispered.

  I tsked. “Listening in?”

  He didn’t smile this time, just smoldered, a burning coal, the sunset colors gleaming sparks against his banked darkness. “I would know what you’re thinking without reading your thoughts, passionate Gwynn. Did you think I don’t pay attention to the way you look at me?”

  “I didn’t think I was that obvious.” My mouth was dry.

  “To me, you are like looking into a mirror. I see my desires reflected back. Magnified. Enhanced and sharpened. We could skip the feast, remain closeted in these rooms.” He inhaled and whispered as he breathed out. “Wine and roses.”

  “Tonight will be soon enough.”

  “Will it?” He slid a hand against the small of my back, urging me closer. “What if something occurs to tear us apart before tonight? Or what if you continue to deny what we should share and then it’s too late—will you forever regret not tasting the dark delights I offer you?”

  I trailed a fingernail down the curve of his ear, behind to the velvety hollow beneath the lobe. “Playing the regret card? So far I haven’t managed to shake you. I don’t see it happening soon.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured, our lips a breath apart. I knew he wouldn’t strain our relationship by kissing me, but he tempted me to break my own rules. Each time he gave in, coaxed me into special dispensations, gave me fewer reasons to stand by them. I can change the rules for this moment and then get them back into place. But the victory that kept him from seducing me entirely had been hard-won. I’d tricked him—which was excessively difficult—and I was unlikely to do it ever again. Especially when it came to this arena.

  Still.

  I leaned in closer.

  “I have the most splitting headache!” Starling declared from the other room, the level of her voice unlikely for a headache sufferer. I nearly fell into Rogue. Would have, if he hadn’t steadied me with that firm grip on my waist. Starling rounded the corner. “Oops!”

  She smiled an impish grin and curtseyed. “Excuse me, Lord Rogue. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  She was a terrible liar and I glared at her. She beamed innocently at me in return. “Mama—Lady Blackbird—sent me to ask if you require anything. And to see if you needed help getting cleaned up and dressed, which clearly you do, since you haven’t done it yet.”

  “I’ll just excuse myself, shall I? Since you insist on attending this feast, though I’d just as soon have meals sent up so we could stay...closeted.” Rogue winked at me and slid a casual hand from my hip to my bottom. “I picked out a dress for you.”

  “I might not wear it.”

  He smiled knowingly. “Yes, you will.”

  Chapter Eleven

  In Which I Obtain a Clue

  The flora and fauna appear to be a conglomeration of the life forms recognizable from my world, that generally follow the same laws of form and function, and then wild variations that should be physically impossible. Certainly they do not seem to proceed from the same evolutionary path. It’s as if natural law here has been subverted by another, more powerful, force.

  ~Big Book of Fairyland, “Rules of Magic”

  Starling watched him leave the room with a little lustful sigh.

  “You are the worst lady-in-waiting ever.”

  She grinned at me. “I love you too, Gwynn.”

  I snorted, oddly flustered by her affectionate rejoinder. Or maybe by her knowing leer.

  “It’s lovely to see you two canoodling.”

  “I really don’t want to know what image you had in your head for me to get the word that I did.”

  She giggled. “Was it dirty?”

  “Are you still drunk?”

  “Gah—maybe a little. That beer knocked me on my ass. Tell me, did I promise Officer Sean to meet him later?”

  “I have no earthly idea. I was busy while you were canoodling.”

  She blanched. “Ooh—that is dirty. I most assuredly was not doing that!”

  “Neither was I.”

  “You have to be either the most obstinate or the most disciplined woman in all the world.”

  “Possibly both,” I agreed. “So? Bathing room, yes?”

  “Bathing room, yes.” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell more like Felicity than she does.”

  I followed her lead, realizing this whole quest wasn’t about just me and my goals. Starling had a stake in this, and Nancy and poor perished Cecily. And perhaps all the other women—and fae—who’d been caught in this web. I figured I knew what fat spider I’d find perched in the center. I just needed to find ways to untangle her prey without bringing her down upon us.

  * * *

  Once I saw the promised dress, I knew why Rogue was so certain I’d wear it. First of all, it wasn’t black, as I’d been so certain he’d try to pull on me. And second—it was indescribably lovely. It seemed to be made of starlight and moonlight at once, formed of gauzy draping trails of cloth that shimmered and glittered. Starling couldn’t speak for a full five minutes after seeing it. When she poured it over my head—because, duh, of course I wanted to wear it—it clung to my skin with light whispers.

  No zippers or ties. Magic. Made especially for me.

  Rogue’s signature feral glow ran all through it, sensual and intimate.

  Darling, who’d appeared early on in the process to loll on the edge of the sunken tub and sending me alternating thoughts of mermaids in bubble baths and mouse innards—a most disconcerting combination—approved of it, especially the dangly bits.

  Starling let me leave my hair down, brushing it into a gleaming straight fall of black, agreeing that the contrast was striking. And that my hair helped cover up what the scandalous dress failed to. I ignored that last comment. The glory of magic made sure the dress clung to all the important bits and made me feel, wow, almost beautiful. It was the polar opposite of how Rogue had made me dress for my first feast and I knew that this, too, held a message.

  We played a different game and in a different way now.

  He confirmed it, waiting in the main room to escort me for dinner, wearing the same shades. I’d never seen him in anything but black and the contrast, the sheen of sliver threads, brought out the warm gold of his skin and unexpected shimmers of moonlight in his midnight eyes. The shirt he wore was so sheer that his lean chest showed through the cloth nearly as much as where it fell open.

  He smiled at my approval and raised an eyebrow when I walked behind him. With one
hand, I undid the jeweled clip he’d used to tie back his hair and let it fall free. I might have also indulged myself in stroking the thick silk of it, inhaling the scent of mace and man. I felt in harmony with him in a way we’d never before achieved.

  Maybe he really was trying.

  Or I was getting soft.

  At the moment, I didn’t care.

  “I’m tempted to say we should stay in the rooms after all, but I want to show off my pretty dress.”

  “Alas, how my plan has backfired.” He touched my cheek, a fleeting caress. “I’m pleased you like it.”

  “I do.”

  “Will you wear my earrings with it?”

  The request did not surprise me. “Do you promise to take them off if I ask you to?”

  “I promise,” he returned gravely.

  I fetched them from the table, where I’d tucked them in a little box that I’d wished locked to anyone but me. I had the dragon’s blood safely hidden elsewhere. “See? High security measures.”

  He didn’t comment, simply lifted the downward-turning lilies to my earlobes, his magic shivering through me as stimulating as his boldest touch. The little claws sank in with a brief flash of pain that settled into a wash of desire that made me gasp aloud. The left side of his mouth curved up in a half smile of satisfied pleasure.

  “It makes you happy to see me wearing them.”

  His gaze moved from the jewel flowers and caught mine, intent, predatory. He paused so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. “Yes.”

  The single word held a wealth of meaning. A meaning that made the cat deep inside stir, an answering wildness. I wanted to dig into him with my claws, nip him with my teeth.

  “We’d better go.”

  “Indeed.” He said the word in all blandness, but I felt the hum of excitement beneath.

  We joined the feast in progress, seated together at the head of the table and feted like visiting royalty. Which I supposed we were. Unlike so many of the other events, this party was actually fun, with delicious food and performing acrobats. The other guests, who I presumed to be vassals of various kinds, lined the table. I still didn’t quite understand the political structure.

  I whispered to Rogue that Faerie Government and History 101 should be my next lesson.

  “No,” he replied, watching a trio of birdlike boys bend themselves into a complicated pretzel.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s boring.”

  “Not to me—and they’re my lessons.”

  He turned his gaze to me, amused. “I already have your lesson planned.”

  “Why does that sound kinky?”

  He slid his palm along my thigh under the table. “We could do that too. I’m certain you’d be an apt pupil for some of the games I have in mind.”

  “No, thank you.” I tried to sound prim, but my breath accelerated.

  “You break my heart, cruel Gwynn.”

  “Or something lower,” I retorted. “So what’s the lesson?”

  “Observe and learn, young student of mine.”

  He laid his hand palm up on the table, clearly expecting me to take it. As soon as I did, his magic began looping out of him, in great swirling waves of blue and black. I expected astonished comments, but no one else noticed. Except Darling, sprawled by my plate, tail draped affectionately over my wrist, who watched the tendrils as he would a tasty bird. His claws flexed in preparation.

  “Don’t touch,” I warned him, and he flicked innocent eyes at me. Rogue seemed to be deep in concentration as the room filled, with the blue-black miasma settling over everyone but our little trio.

  “There.” He murmured it in satisfaction.

  People still talked, laughed, enjoyed their dinners, but something had shifted in their voices. The room looked like we were underwater. Sparkling fish in a crazed aquarium of Rogue’s making.

  “What did you do?” It was both like and unlike what he’d done to the dragonfly girl. Only this was somehow general, where that had been specific and immaculately precise.

  He smiled inscrutably and released my hand to drink from his goblet, spoke for my ears alone. “Wait. Watch. I’m interested to see if you can detect it.”

  Feeling like a grad student being grilled by one of my professors again, I studied the room, the conversations. Despite the whole underwater thing, it all seemed as before.

  Then I noticed it. All the conversations were crystal clear. None of what they said carried the muddiness that social interactions usually did—the polite nonsense, the veiled insults, the sly innuendo. Instead they all said exactly what they meant.

  “A truth spell?” I whispered into his ear, vaguely disappointed. “Isn’t that kind of...prosaic?”

  He snorted. “And how would you do it?”

  He had a point. Wishing a physical thing into a different form required fairly straightforward visualization. Requiring a person to speak the truth—arguably a very subjective thing—would be quite a bit more convoluted.

  “How did you do it?”

  “You can grill me later. You’d best ask your questions now, before the party falls apart.”

  There were several arguments brewing. One pair of ladies looked daggers at each other and I wondered who had made the snarky remark first.

  “I really only needed to talk to Blackbird—you needn’t have bespelled the entire room.”

  He grinned. “I like showing off for my pretty consort.”

  Now I snorted, but the remark pleased me. Sucker. Fortunately Blackbird sat just to the other side of Rogue, well within conversational distance.

  “I’d hoped to meet your husband tonight, Lady Blackbird.” I pretended to scan the table. “Is he here?”

  Starling, on my right, across from her mother, looked up, eyes wide. Hopefully she wouldn’t blow it by chickening out.

  “Oh no, Lady Sorceress Gwynn. He’s—” She stopped herself, frowning. Likely puzzled at what she’d been about to blurt out. “He’s off on a quest.”

  “Oh yes? And what is he looking for?”

  “I—” She cocked her head at me, robin-black eyes snapping with suspicion. “I don’t want to tell you.”

  The women down the table began shrieking at one another. I decided to skip a few steps.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you, Blackbird. But I need to know what you can tell me. I think I know what he’s looking for. I need to know what clues he’s following. Where to find him.”

  Blackbird’s gaze slid from my face to Rogue’s and back again. She pressed her lips together. The women’s escorts had gotten involved, one now standing up and poking a long finger at the other’s chest.

  “I told her, Mom.” Starling broke in, leaning across the table, speaking fast and intensely. “All about little Brody.”

  Blackbird paled and I thought she might faint. She seized a goblet and drank it empty, staring into it for a long space of time. One of the men down the table punched the other and their neighbors stood, protesting and cheering, depending on the person.

  “How can you possibly know anything about that?” she demanded. “You weren’t even born when I gave him to—” Completely aghast, she whirled on me. “This is a horrible, nasty trick to play on me, Gwynn! I thought you might be a different sort than this ilk, but now you’ve become just like him.” Blackbird clapped both hands over her mouth and moaned.

  When I’d first arrived, Blackbird had been living in Rogue’s castle as his servant and I’d despised him for doing that to her, using his hold on her. She was right, I’d become the same.

  “Rogue—lift the spell.”

  “But you haven’t dredged up all of her secrets.”

  “I don’t want to do it this way. She’s right. I’ll take what Blackbird is willing to tell me, all right?” I asked it of her and she, hands still over her mouth, hesitated, then nodded. “Starling, pour your mother some wine, would you? Or something stronger, if you know her preference.”

  The room cleared with a ping that sizzled u
p my spine. It seemed I was growing more sensitive to Rogue’s magic all the time, as much a part of his allure as his gorgeous looks and enticing scent. Here was me, a fish flopping on a hook. Just waiting to be pan-seared and served up.

  Blackbird beckoned to several pages and sent them scurrying to break up the fight and send the other guests on to the ballroom. She turned to us, all gracious hostess in place. “Shall we repair to the drawing room, then?”

  She led the way and Rogue, Starling and I followed. Darling trotted off after the dancers, thinking happy thoughts about the tribute he’d receive for easing the sore feet of those determined to waltz all night. As a rare magical anesthetist, he was always popular at balls.

  We entered a little parlor done entirely in aqua-blue velvet. To my surprise, several of my light-up pillows, in various shades of light blue, decorated the sofa. I should see if some could be sent to Mistress Nancy—as a thank-you, since I’d been too discombobulated at the time to think of it.

  Blackbird folded her hands neatly and addressed us. “I’d like to apologize for the terrible, insulting and ungrateful things I said. In recompense, I—”

  “Stop right there,” I cut her off. “It was my fault. I did play a nasty trick on you. It’s forgotten. It never happened.”

  Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears and she nodded. Now I saw her, the young woman who’d been trapped in a tower countless years ago. Always a chess piece in someone else’s game. Starling edged up and handed her a tumbler of something and kissed her mother. Blackbird looked momentarily startled, then smiled and patted her daughter on the cheek.

  “Look. I’m going to be straight with you, Blackbird. I think you understand why it’s important to me to understand what’s happening to firstborn children.”

  Blackbird flicked a wary glance at Rogue.