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Instead I let the lust boil up. The sex and magic filled me.
I gave it all up and let myself drift.
I stood at the edge of the pool. Naked, my hair flowing down my back and sliding over my shoulders in a silky caress. I knew it was black now. Even in my dreams. Shining like the inky water before me. The arches of my feet were warmed and stretched by the curve of the worn stones, just at the edge of the water, not quite touching.
The angel hairs on the back of my neck lifted, so I knew the Dog had arrived. That he sat behind me on the stairs, as if carved from obsidian, but alive with hunger.
There he sat. Glossy, shimmering night against the paler shadows. Flash of white fang, glistening with saliva. He shimmered. Shifted.
And Rogue uncoiled. Long hair streaming like ink spilled on leather. Cloak swirling around him.
He descended the steps with that uncanny elegance, stalking on long legs, effulgent eyes so intense that the sapphire was lost in ebony. As he paced toward me, he held something in his hand. The green silk cord. Longing in his beautiful face.
I quailed but held the marble in the palm of my hand. An offering.
Rogue stopped in front of me, sleek as a cobra, the pattern on his face once again still and cool. He slid the bloody sphere from my unresisting fingers. The eyebrow on the clear side of his face arched, Rogue held the glass sphere up to the misty light, turning it to see the bruised swirling within.
His eyes glittered like mica as they ran over my face. His elegant fingers folded around it. When he opened his hand again, it was gone.
Then he held his other hand up to me, the green silk cord trailing across it. A challenge. A question.
My breath caught and a tremor ran through me. I couldn’t bear it.
“Do I have to?” I whispered. I searched his eyes. Regret and triumph chased each other through their depths. He trailed a long finger down my cheek and I shuddered.
“Beautiful Gwynhwyvar. You are both the omen and the fulfillment of it. You have seen how fighting this will only shatter us. Please. I need you.”
Rogue sank to one knee, his cloak settling in a sensuous swirl. He held up the silken cord like an engagement ring.
“Gwynn, I cannot survive without you. Will you accept my bonds?”
My heart thundered, my brain swimming in heated blood, my breasts tight and sex throbbing. I couldn’t think. But I didn’t need to. I’d already made the choice.
It mattered that it was my choice.
I held out my wrists.
Without rising, Rogue knotted the green silk. First around one wrist, then the other. I trembled to feel it tighten around my skin. The sensation arrowed through me in helpless arousal. The ends dangled down, a twisted bridal bouquet.
My breath escalated. Excitement spiraling out of control.
Thrilled to the core, I let it go.
Weaving the dangling cords between his fingers, Rogue drew me down to bend over him. He offered his mouth to me and I kissed him, starving, insatiable. I dropped into his hot, sweet lips, my wrists tethered to his hands.
I sank to my knees, reveling in the heat of him against my naked skin, my nipples unbearably teased by the velvet he wore. I let him plunder my mouth.
When he raised his head, brilliant eyes fired, I tilted my head back, exposing my throat to his teeth in surrender.
With a growl, he slid his lips along my throat. I moaned, my thighs slick with moisture. He trailed nipping kisses down my neck and I sparked to his touch.
When he sank his teeth into the junction between my neck and shoulder, I convulsed. Rogue released my wrists, pulled me tight against him with one arm, slid his elegant fingers between my thighs into my swollen sex.
I convulsed again, screaming, and his mouth closed over mine.
My climax poured into him and he drank me in. Inhaled me, and poured it back.
This was right. This was how it should go.
