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“So sweet,” I said, scratching under his chin. “For your reward, you may share my bed.”
In my pre-dinner complacency, I hadn’t yet created my futon, and I really didn’t want to deal now. Resigned to an aching back in the morning, I grabbed my camp blankets—quilted silk, not army wool—piled together some of the flatter pillows in the corner, and lay down.
I closed my eyes and saw it all play out again, across the screen of my eyelids.
Burning pillows sailing through the night. That little page, hands blistering and cracking as he laid hold of each one, until he, too, was a little stuffed silk luxury ablaze.
I’d better not think about it, as emotional as I was, or I could re-create the whole horrid event.
My gut congealed in an icy fist. Maybe I had unthinkingly created the event in the first place, wondering about the fire hazards of Dragonfly’s candles. The magic sometimes worked that way, manifesting general circumstances that you daydreamed about.
It paid to keep your fantasies happy ones.
Chapter 16
In Which I Return to the Laboratory
‡
The Bell Jarexperiment failed spectacularly. That night I dreamed of Rogue, more vividly than ever.
He sat back on a bed I’d never before seen, massive with wood and velvety materials. Dressed in his customary black, Rogue leaned back against mounded pillows in shades of dark ruby and midnight emerald, his legs crossed at the ankles. His hair fell loose, spilling around his shoulders. His face impassive behind the winding inky lines, he watched me where I stood next to the bed.
In front of me, draped over the velvet coverlet, streamed something in pale lace, nearly white, but blue enough to pick up the navy-dark highlights in all the inky covers of the bed.
Put it on,he told me, though I don’t recall hearing his voice.
I slid out of my dress, standing naked in the light of the room before I slipped on the confection of lace. It was the kind of thing that made you feel more nude than simple nakedness. The bodice dropped low over my breasts, hugging the curves so that the lacy swirls just barely covered my nipples. Looking down, I could see them, hard and bright pink, pressing through the fragile strands. The lace fell in streamers down my legs, tantalizing with what it revealed and hid.
Rogue watched me, burning. My skin heated where his gaze traveled and I looked down, vulnerable to the intensity of it. A green silk sash was also draped on the bed. Longing welled up in me, a dark hope that he’d bind my wrists with it. I wanted him to command me to give it to him and then lie on the bed with my wrists crossed over my head while he tied my hands to the headboard. I trembled with the desire, desperate for the command, terrified that he’d taste my desire in my thoughts and do it.
Terrified that he wouldn’t do it.
I half-awoke to dreamy sunlight and fierce arousal. Moisture trickled uncomfortably between my thighs. Naked under my blankets, I slid a finger between my legs. It only took a few strokes and I shuddered in the fierce, bright orgasm. The energy of it pulsed through me in long waves, sweet and cleansing. For that drowsy moment, I didn’t even mind that it was Rogue’s eyes that blazed in my mind, or the scent of sandalwood and lilies that warmed the morning air.
Dragonfly came singing in, breaking the sensual daze.
Fully awake, I now felt the deep bruising in my breast. The surreal horror of the night before. And here I lay, drowning in erotic fantasies about the man who was probably my greatest enemy here.
Well, tossup between him, Falcon, the Dog, the Monochromatic Sadistic Twins. So many nemeses to choose from.
Rogue hadn’t stopped playing me. He’d found those dark fantasies hidden in the corners of my heart, the raw wounds still bleeding from my trainers’ attentions, and was using it all to try to control me.
Dragonfly brought me a dressing robe I didn’t remember ever trying on and I slipped into it. I made myself use the chamber pot, fitting the lid tightly afterward. I thought about taking it somewhere to empty myself but still had no idea where to go. Not exactly a glamorous lifestyle.
I kicked pillows aside as I made my way over to study the Rogue Lily, resplendent inside the glass, dewy fresh and luminous as ever. I sniffed the air, but the scent of lilies and sandalwood had faded. The dusky blue of the flower’s throat drew my attention, reminding me of the slow burn in Rogue’s eyes watching me in the lace lingerie. Waiting for me to hand him that dammed silk sash.
With a sharp thought fueled by the anger, I shattered the glass.
Dragonfly squealed and I ignored her.
A feeling of power surged through me. Bright and jewel-toned. The daylight side. My own magic. I was no one’s pet. No one’s sex slave. If I wanted to remain my own person, then I needed to take steps.
Starting with destroying Rogue’s “gift.”
I understood the gift-thing now. By accepting the lily, I had opened a door between us. By keeping it, I allowed a connection between Rogue and me. One that just happened to be toxic to my well-being. At least Rogue hadn’t tried to convince me that it was all about love. There was an honesty in that, I supposed.
This would be my honest answer.
