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I gaped at him. Closed my mouth. Pursed my lips.
“No,” I said slowly. “I don’t think so.”
Irritation crossed his face, maybe had never left it since he appeared in my tent this morning.
“One hand, over the clothes, you allow it or the bargain is moot. Don’t make me warn you again, Gwynn. The consequences for oath-breakers are not ones you should take lightly. Even I cannot protect you from that.” Rogue leaned in, crowding me against the tree without touching me, beyond the rhythmic stroking fingers on my wrist. His touch on my skin sent whispers of longing into me. Intensifying as he caressed my palm. Then he interlaced his fingers with mine.
“Gwynn,” he whispered, “let me touch you. You have before. Flirt with me, keep to your bargain.”
Nervous, I tried to look for witnesses, but I couldn’t see around Rogue’s tall figure. He had his hair pulled back, cheekbones stark under the gold skin and snaking black pattern. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. Of course, I could just give in now. Go with him and have a bed and tender kisses in privacy to soften the edges.
No. That was pet-Gwynn talking. Give in. Just do what they want. So much easier to be numb and lap up the crumbs of pleasure any of them cared to toss me.They have all the power,Larch’s words echoed in my head.
Oh no, they did not. Not while I had breath left in my body.
I nodded and triumph lit his eyes.Sure, Rogue—underestimate me again. Please.
Rogue lifted my hand—for a moment I thought he’d kiss it, but he restrained himself—then raised it above my head and gently guided my fingers around the tree branch over my head.
“You might want to hold on with both hands.” He set his own right hand next to mine on the branch, fingers so long they wrapped nearly all the way around while mine made it barely halfway—and I had fingers long enough to easily reach an octave stretch on the piano. “Spread your legs,” he reminded me, voice husky, eyes midnight dark.
I decided to go ahead and hold on to the limb with both hands. And inched my feet apart.
A sudden smile flashed across his face. He stroked my cheek with one long finger. “Wider, Gwynn.”
I looked away. He traced down my jaw, fingers and thumb bracketing my throat, where I was sure he could feel my pulse pounding. Oddly, it soothed me to feel his touch there, not unlike my own habit of feeling for the absence of the silver collar.
“Open for me just a little more, precious Gwynhwyvar,” he crooned. “White shadow, white ghost, pale shade of things to come.” The bark was gritty and real under my hands, but otherwise I hung suspended in his voice, caught in the blaze of his eyes.
I spread my legs for him.
His croon dropped into a wordless hum, hand dropping down over the green velvet, lingering briefly over the rise of my breasts, then smoothing over the curve of my waist and hip. I nearly lost my nerve and had to fight not to close my legs. So vulnerable, standing open like that.You can take this. You’ve withstood far worse.
As his hand traced down the outside of my thigh, and then inevitably back up the tender inner thigh, I dropped my eyes, thoroughly unable to bear the intensity of it. Rogue leaned in, so I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. Cinnamon and mace.
“If you can’t take any more, just give me the word,” he whispered. “At any time, just tell me that you’ll give yourself to me. That’s all it takes.”
Like hell, I thought. I opened my mouth to tell Rogue that he could go straight there…and lost all my breath in a convulsive rush when he slipped his hand up.
He cupped my mound firmly, pressing the soft cloth against me. My head fell back and I shuddered, staring at my white fingers digging into the bark, trying to slow my heart and regain my breath. I knew he was watching me and I wished fervently for a way to hide. I turned my face into the folds of the full sleeve of the robe, where it gathered around my shoulder, my forearms rising like pale flower stems, a fragile tether to the branch above.
“I can still see you.” The low hum of his voice filled me. “You cannot hide your ardor from me, passionate Gwynn.”
I hung there, suspended between the branch and his hand, refusing to look. Concentrating everything on keeping still, not squirming, not writhing. I focused on keeping my breath deep and even, no moaning allowed. All I had to do was not move. Deep, even breaths.Think of something else.
Rogue’s crooning to me became a low song that seemed to penetrate my blood. Another variation on the faerie singing. I tried to block it out the way I had before, but it seemed to seep through my pores, a distant thunder resonating in my bones. And, for some reason, it didn’t bother me in the same way. Instead it felt…alluring. The heat in my groin grew, and Rogue’s hand—long fingers cupping me, penetrating hot, nearly bearing my weight—became the center of the vibration, streaking into the swollen tissues like heat lightning. My whole body clenched and my shocked gaze flew up to find his only a breath away. His eyes were molten blue, chromium on boil.
I nearly convulsed again as the hot oscillation filled me. I tried to be still, to absorb it, bleed the building tension away.
Breathe it out.
But then another rill of sensation would rock me. Building in unbearable pressure. Climbing so that I was going to orgasm, right here, back against a tree, the bright light of day burning on my face while he watched.
“Please…” I gasped.
“You know how to stop it.” His voice resonant, lips seductive. “Give in to me, my Gwynn. Come with me and leave this horrible place.” His words hummed in my blood, hypnotic. So help me, I wanted to say yes.
I longed to fasten myself to his lips, throw myself around him and give in, open, yield. Giving way would be easier.
