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Her butler, a type of fae I hadn’t seen before, led us to our rooms. He seemed to be a gray broomstick with a long head and spindly limbs. My fingers itched for my grimoire, or my lowly notepad, so I could add him to my list. But I was being polite and gracious Lady Arm Candy for the moment. A limiting role, indeed.
We could have found the rooms on our own, because the Brownie/dragonfly girl song echoed down the halls to nearly the front doors. The butler never spoke, simply gazed at us with cobwebby eyes and gestured to the grand brass double doors that led apparently to our suite.
“We’re sharing?”
“Are you ashamed of our arrangement?”
“Some seem to think I should be.”
“And you?”
“No, no—perish the thought.”
The rooms, which seemed to go on and on with one sitting area leading to an opulent bedroom leading to a decadent bathing chamber, were full of life and spinning color as the Brownies and dragonfly girls made short work of the unpacking—despite the amazing volume of stuff. I explored while they worked, returning to the main sitting room to find Rogue sitting in a fussy chair, long legs splayed out. In a breath, all the servants disappeared, leaving us alone.
Uncertain what to do with myself, I stepped over to the windows that looked out over the front entrance, with the fanciful drawbridge crossing the sparkling moat and pointing to the winding road beyond. Rogue drew up beside me, gazing out the crystal mullioned panes, then tucked my hair behind my ear in an affectionately absent gesture and handed me a glass of wine.
He rarely seemed this relaxed. Perversely, it unsettled me. I knew where I stood with him as my opponent.
I probably needed to break this habit of thinking that any time it seemed that things were going his way, it boded ill for me. I sipped at the wine and grimaced. Way too sweet. Alas.
“Why does therealwayshave to be a feast?” I complained.
He laughed and leaned against the window ledge, all enticing indolence. The sun set behind him, setting fire to the horizon in a display worthy of a sweeping soundtrack and a grand dramatic scene. Crimson and gold shone on his midnight black hair, lighting the unmarked right side of his face so that he looked like some noble prince, the marked side in shadow, so none of the dark fae lines that revealed his inner nature showed. The gold earring gleamed, a spot of light on the sinister face. For a moment I glimpsed him as he might have been before the Black Dog started growing in his heart.
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?”
