Rogue's Paradise

by Jeffe Kennedy

  I might even grow to crave it. Which worried me greatly.

  “Don’t fret over such things.” Rogue trailed the words over my flesh, then licked the hollow of my collarbone. His erect cock rose between us, pressing against me insistently. “I could never tame you, even if I wished to. Haven’t you proven that already?”

  “I can’t believe you’re ready to go at it yet again.” I groaned when he arched my back more, his tongue finding my taut nipple and teasing it.

  “I believe I can keep my lady satisfied, yes.”

  “That has never been a concern of mine.”

  “Good.” He sounded all pleased, which really hadn’t been my intent, and released me. “Now stop trying to seduce me. I want a bath.”

  Leaving me there, he waded in, then dove, his lean body sleek as a seal’s cleaving the glassy black water, his long hair streaming behind him. So odd to be standing here, as naked as I’d been in those dreams, my body filled with the same arousal, watching this beautiful and alarmingly strange and intimately familiar man who seemed to be mine, for better or worse.

  “Are you coming in, lovely Gwynn?” he called. “Or do you plan to stand there being decorative?”

  “Ha-ha.” But it gave me a flush of pleasure that he found me beautiful too. At least, that he said he did.

  I took my time, testing my footing and letting the sensation of the soft, hot water rise around me. So odd not to be able to see through it, though it felt like normal water. Some kind of optical effect, I suspected. When I got deep enough, I tilted my head back, to sluice the water through my hair. I remembered in time not to run my fingers through it, lest I slice mine off too. I could magically replace it, but my ear wouldn’t grow back. It would be magical shampooing for me, too, for the duration. A pity as I would miss scrubbing my scalp.

  “Allow me.” Rogue swirled up, showing me a palm filled with dark blue liquid. I gave him my back and he worked it through my hair. The scent of Stargazer lilies surrounded me, sweet, spicy and now forever connected to him. Using his strong fingers, he massaged my scalp, exactly as I’d envisioned.

  “Are you eavesdropping on my thoughts full-time now?” I asked, more than a little disconcerted by the idea. I hadn’t been thinking all that loudly, I was pretty sure.

  He laughed, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. “Our intimacy has woven us closer together. It’s a side effect. You can keep me out if you try.” His soapy hands flowed down and over my breasts, leaning me back against him. “You just don’t really want to,” he murmured into my ear, running the tip of his tongue inside the shell of it.

  I didn’t, I realized. It felt good, this relaxing of walls, to sink into the sensation of being with him, without having to be wary of every word. He hummed in agreement, tugging on my earlobe with his teeth and running long fingers down my midline to dip between my legs.

  I let my head fall back on his shoulder, floating while he supported me. A ping in part of my mind that hadn’t been there before—my new connection to the mass mind of Faerie—told me the sun had risen. The suds swirled around us and, in a dreamlike haze, I watched the bubbles whirl away into the darkness.

  How I could rouse again and again like this, I didn’t know. His touch seemed magical—for all I knew, it was—digging deep in me and calling forth this unending passion. It rolled through me, gentle, even healing, waves of sensuality. With the one hand, he caressed my breast, kneading it and plucking at my nipple, while the other lightly stroked my clit, urging me toward yet another climax. All the while he spoke sweet, affectionate words against my skin, pressing them into place with small kisses.

  The climax surged closer and I rolled my head on his shoulder to meet his mouth.

  “Marry me, my Gwynn,” he said, and kissed me before I could answer, his hands stilling on my body. “Say yes.”

  He’d leave me teetering there, hoping to sweep me through this one without argument. So I bit him on his full lower lip. “No.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he gave me a menacing stare. “No, you won’t say yes, or no, you won’t marry me?”

  “Both.” Feeling considerably less dreamy now, I struggled out of his grip and he let me go. To clear my head, I dunked it, shaking my hair out and freeing the last of the suds.

  When I surfaced, I kept my head tipped back, so my hair would sleek back out of my face. I didn’t realize Rogue had closed in until he caught me neatly by the waist, his face lined with grim determination.

  I sighed. “Did you really think you could seduce me enough that I’d agree to anything in the throes of passion?”

  “Hope springs eternal,” he replied in a dry tone. “However, since that method failed, we’ll just have to have it out.”

  “You plan to keep me trapped in this bathing chamber until I agree?”

  His lips twitched in amusement and he lifted me a little, then let me sink again, clearly watching my breasts bob in the water. “That suggestion has its merits. Come, sit.”

  As if I had much choice. His grip on me unrelenting, he urged me over to a sort of carved-in seat invisible in the opaque water. I settled into it, as comfortable as in the classiest hot tub. Beside me, Rogue’s thoughts darkened, as impossible to see through as the pool. Readying himself to battle with me then.

  Best time to launch an unexpected offensive.

  “I’m told you could have pretty much any female in all of Faerie.” Probably outside it, too, if I was any indicator, and a good portion of the males too.

  He paused, indeed taken by surprise. I awarded the first point to me.

  “This isn’t a contest,” he said, with more than a little irritation.

  Oops. I darkened my thoughts too.

  “It doesn’t matter who I could have.” He’d modulated his tone now, smooth and silky. “It’s you I want. I thought I’d made that abundantly clear.”

  “But you haven’t made it clear why,” I pointed out. My turn to be relentless. Above, the ceiling of the chamber vanished into shadow, far beyond where the torchlight reached. As if this place sat outside physical limits. Which seemed entirely possible.

  “I told you—because you carry my child.”

  “Look.” I took a deep breath, annoyed with myself that I felt a little hurt by that. Get a grip, Gwynn. “I know we come from different cultures, but to a woman from mine, that’s just not a compelling reason. It’s almost an insult.”

  He fell silent, contemplating that. “Because it implies I value the babe more than I want you.”

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  “But we already agreed that we love each other.”

  The image that came with his words made it seem as if we’d exchanged equivalent gifts. In some ways, I supposed that was accurate, if unromantic. “I can love you—” jeez, I stumbled over the words still, “—without marrying you. I can have this baby without being married to you too.”

  “But you don’t understand the ramifications of that.”

  “Perhaps you could give me your reasons. Lay your cards on the table.”

  “I have neither cards nor a table.”

  Funny that one translated literally. “It refers to a human game. People hide the value of the tokens—the cards—from each other, in an attempt to bluff the other person into thinking they have more or less than they do. I’m asking you to show me what you’re holding. What are your reasons for wanting this marriage, without the trickery?”

  “I’m not as fond of lists as you are.”

  “Pity. I’m exceedingly fond of them. I want one from you. Consider it a courting gift.”

  He laughed at that, amused by me despite the frustration rolling off him. “Only you would ask for such a thing as a courting gift.”

  I grinned at him. “Why, thank you, dear.”

  Lifting his hand from the water, he stroked a fingertip down my cheek, an affectionate gesture that never failed to move me—something he undoubtedly knew. “If I give you this,” he said, very softly, “I ask one thing in return.” />
  Here it comes. “Tell me and I’ll decide.”

  “Your silence. Don’t tell anyone else—no matter how tempting it may be.”

  My heart stuttered a little. Was he finally trusting me with his secrets? “All right.”

  “Don’t agree too easily. I know you, noble Gwynn, and you will be sorely tempted to share this information. You cannot.”

  Ooh. Maybe I shouldn’t know. It would nearly kill me not to act on something if I found it important. Still, as I’d once told Starling, knowledge was power. I thought power is power, she’d replied. An observation that had stuck with me. “Yes. I will keep your list secret and will not share it with anyone—unless you give me permission.”

  His mouth quirked up on the left side, acknowledging how I’d circumscribed my promise “We cannot speak of it outside this room. Do you understand that?”

  Oh, really? “You planned this, didn’t you?” I accused him. “Once you knew I wouldn’t simply agree, you engineered to have this discussion in this place, where you could give me the reasons you knew I’d ask for.”

  “You should know by now, clever Gwynn.” He smiled and some sorrow lurked behind it. “I plan everything.”

  I sighed for the truth of that. “Fine, fine. Just tell me already.”

  He lay back and looked into the endless ceiling. “Let’s see. To give it numbers then, as you prefer—I believe I’ve learned how to do this. One, the first and most important reason is the one I’ve already given. You bear my child. Two follows on one—because you bear my child, I must do everything in my power to protect you and the babe. Three encompasses the first and second. To fully exercise all my power, I must bring you both within the circle of it. The child comes with you, thus having you means having you both. Fourth—I have two tools to make you mine, marriage or enslavement. You’ve made it abundantly clear that the latter is not an option.” He said this last in a wry tone that spoke of his exasperation. “So I either go against your will or I convince you to marry me.”

  “Wait. You think you could enslave me against my will?”

  He rolled his head on the stone and met my gaze with darkly grave eyes. “Yes. Always that has been an option for me.”

  My skin crawled at the ring of truth in his voice. I’d flung this accusation at him more than once, but I’d never really thought he could. He waited watching me process that. This then—this was a measure of the trust he offered, letting me know that he could have, still could, and had chosen not to.

  “Can you enslave anyone?”

  “With one notable exception, yes. Why—do you want me to teach you?”

  “No.” I wanted to rub my arms, though I wasn’t physically chilled. I settled for breaking his gaze and staring up into the shadows, stretching my neck. “I don’t want to be able to do that. I find it abhorrent that you can.”

  “You and I come from different perspectives on that.”

  “Yes, I know. Still.”

  “Gwynn.” He wanted to touch me, but didn’t. The gentle brush of his thoughts against mine told me that much. “I didn’t do it to you. I wouldn’t ever.”

  “Even if I refuse this marriage?”

  He sighed. “Even so.”

  “All right. Let’s set that aside. I assume there’s more to your list?” I hoped there wasn’t a lot more. Already I was having a bit of trouble following the flow of his Möbius strip logic. Fascinating insight into his alien intelligence, however.

  “There are ten. Fifth,” he continued, “if you are not under my direct protection, the child will be vulnerable the moment it’s born. Fair play to anyone who wishes to enter the game, as you think of it.”

  “Cecily was married to Fafnir.”

  “Yes, but he delayed in sending for her, thinking to keep Titania’s interest away. An expensive gamble that he lost.”

  For a while I’d hated the noble fae Lord Fafnir, thinking that he’d cut the fetus from his human consort’s belly with a sword, leaving Cecily for dead. He had, as it turned out, but only as Titania’s puppet. The look on his face when I told him the truth—because he’d demanded it of me, not because I wanted to—would stay with me forever. I am not like the other fae you’ve met because I have nothing left to lose. Looking into the eyes of an immortal at rock bottom was a sobering experience. Oddly, I’d come out of it with my hate transformed to deep sympathy. Not pity—he would hate that.

  “He owes me a favor,” I told Rogue, recalling that this was one of the many developments we had yet to catch up on following our long separation.

  “How is that possible when I expressly told you to stay away from him?”

  Oh. Right. “Well, in my defense, he came to me. Blackbird told me I couldn’t afford to snub him and then he taught me to dance.”

  “Did he now? Which required you to engage in a conversation that ultimately led to him owing you a favor, which can only mean that you discussed what you knew about Cecily’s demise.”

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  “At least the favor will be useful in the days ahead. We shall have to discuss it with him when he arrives for the wedding.”

  “I haven’t agreed yet.” I bit my tongue on that, kicking myself for adding that telling “yet.”

  “You will.” Rogue’s voice held a smile, which made me want to kick him.

  “Besides, even if I do agree—which I haven’t—the ceremony can be small and private.”

  “No, it can’t. Because—and incidentally I’ve moved this up to the sixth reason—we need to make a show of solidarity. Everyone must see the culmination of the true love tale and know that we will stand together against Titania. This is a crucial strategy.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him—a wasted gesture since he had his eyes closed, his face in profile to me. “It’s you who’s been spreading those ‘true love’ rumors all this time.”

  “Any and all tools at my disposal, clever Gwynn.”

  “Do you even believe in true love?” It occurred to me that when he spoke of “true love,” it flavored differently than when we’d agreed we loved each other.

  “As opposed to false love?”

  He had a point. Even I had no idea what people meant by it. I’d bet money that they didn’t either.

  “Okay, let me recap here. The essence of your argument is that to protect me and the kid—to keep us from becoming a kind of wild-card token in this bizarre game—you need me to be married to you.”

  “One essence, yes.”

  “Aha! But Blackbird and Fergus were married and she still had to give up Baby Brody to the Big Bitch. Marriage did nothing to protect them.”

  Rogue cracked an eye open, blue glittering through thick black lashes. “It protected them from everyone but Titania. She is in a category of her own.”

  “Isn’t she always?” I muttered.

  “If you’re finished debating, I’ll continue.”

  “I’m never finished debating.”

  “One of the many things I love about you.”

  That simple declaration hit me like an arrow to the heart. I buried my reaction as deep as I could, not wanting him to know how much it affected me. If he’d made his list six things he loved about me, I would have caved by number four. Who could have predicted I’d be this person? I’d always taken refuge in logic. Been the one to make jokes about love not registering on the oscilloscope. Now I’d become emotionally vulnerable in some profound change of character. Had it happened when my cruel teachers destroyed my will to teach me control?

  Or was it Rogue?

  Abruptly I realized that I would marry him. Because, on a fundamental level, I couldn’t really refuse him anything. Not that I would ever let him know that.

  But I didn’t say so yet. I wanted to hear the rest of these supersecret reasons. He’d been quiet while I thought, waiting for the go-ahead, apparently.

  “Okay, number seven. Hit me.”

  Fortunately that one translated just fine.

  “This one you already
know, as I mentioned it previously. Once we are married we can dispense with bargains and trades between us, which will felicitate the eighth reason—that we will also be able to share power more easily and fully. That combination may be the tipping point for effectively shielding the child and defeating Titania once and for all.”

  “A compelling reason.” In a flash, his hands seized me, lifting me to straddle his lap. Dizzy with the surprise, my claws scraped with a nerve-jangling screech on the stone pool edge as I balanced myself.

  “Are you saying yes?” The question came out as a demand, harsh with emotion. The force of it shook me, but I persevered.

  “I want to hear the rest of the reasons,” I whispered.

  “Remember your promise to me.” A caution and warning both. An omen of the juicy stuff. He’d hoped to avoid telling me, judging by the tension in his body. If I could have, I would have run my hands over his chest, to soothe him.

  “I remember.” I reinforced the promise with a caress of my mind. He twined a thought around it, as if holding my hand.

  “For the ninth—” he dropped his voice, as if we could be overheard, “—with your human blood, you could be vulnerable to a thing that may happen. If you’re married to me, that will protect you.”

  Each time he spoke the word, what I heard as “married” seemed to carry a more profound resonance, almost a sense of a magic spell. Which, given how everything else worked in Faerie, made sense. The ultimate vow. “What thing?”

  “I’ve told you as much as I can. More than I should. More than I would have, outside this space.”

  Titania then. I turned it over in my head, while he watched me with that coiled tension, hands gripping my hips almost too tightly for comfort, as I absorbed the implications, growing more horrified by the moment. No wonder he’d worried about confiding this. Starling, Fergus, Walter—hell, all the humans in Faerie would be vulnerable. She could wipe them out. All except for me. I hated that, as Rogue had known I would. Then another thought occurred to me.

  “What about the other side of the Veil? Could my world be affected, too?”

  He lowered his gaze, not denying it.