Rogue's Pawn by Jeffe Kennedy

bit more, fingers flexing on my hips. The fire crackled softly.
    Now follow my surface thoughts . Too loud? he asked when I winced.
    A bit, I tried quietly.
    He chuckled. Yes, ironic. Ha-ha.
    This better?
    Yes.
    Now look around, as if you’re looking just under the surface of water.
    Like snorkeling. I pictured the Caribbean and felt his interested response.
    Then images not my own began to float by—a dark pool in the woods, the water chill, a bright ocean, waves tumbling, a black-haired, long-legged boy running on the beach, rocky, uneven.
    Now deeper.
    I dove down. Private here, quiet. A sense of walking through someone’s house at night while they slept. Scenes flickered, as if in a movie. Me, laughing at him, my eyes a green flash. My throat torn open, satisfaction shaded with guilt and grief. Me, lying unconscious on the bed, throat smooth, saved but vulnerable. The need to protect me shimmered around the image, like heat waves.
    Did I believe it?
    I dove deeper.
    Something shadowed. A raven’s wing swept across my vision, shrieking whispers. Hot blood in my mouth, tearing flesh and tears, howls and water. Rogue, drowning in black-and-blue magic, the Dog tearing scarlet chunks out of his chest until Rogue’s howls became blood themselves.
    I wrenched myself away.
    Abruptly I was in sunlight.
    Or rather, back in the firelit room, chill gray fog out the windows. Rogue blinked up at me, eyes turbulent. His fingers dug into my hips, almost all that was holding me upright. It took me a moment to clear the dark howls from my mind.
    “What did you see?”
    “You don’t know?”
    He shook his head. “I kept to my agreement. You were to look on your own. Hopefully you saw that I want only to protect you.”
    “But you said you weren’t my friend.”
    “I’m not.”
    “Then what are you?”
    Rogue stood abruptly, which brought him hard up against me. My hands fell away from his face and I tried to step out of the way, but he held me with one iron arm. Stronger than he looked.
    The other hand reached up to toy with the short lock that had escaped from my braids at the nape of my neck. He stared at me fiercely from inches away and my heart pounded. Heat simmered from him and I thrilled to it, despite what I’d seen. Or maybe because of it.
    Did the Dog also stalk his dreams?
    “Do you trust me now?”
    He didn’t know all I’d seen in the depth of his heart. Maybe they were things I should not have seen. I wouldn’t want anyone to see my nightmares. Especially now that they were real.
    “As near to trust as we’re going to get right now.”
    He rewarded me with his brilliant smile. “Excellent!” He released me, then strode over to the table, returning with Blackbird’s tray of nibbles. “Have a quick something to eat then and we’ll get going.”

ChapterEight
    In Which I Learn to Fence
    Like a child, I thrust my hands behind my back. My stomach felt wildly hollow all of a sudden, though it hadn’t bothered me much before.
    “Lovely Gwynn,” Rogue said softly, “you need to eat.”
    His concern washed over me and he raised a finger to my cheek, a feather touch that made me shiver. Now I understood why Persephone broke down and ate the pomegranate seed. She gave in to Hades. Maybe he’d been gorgeous and sexy, too. After all, he was the god of the Underworld, second only to Zeus in power. Kind of the bad boy of the Pantheon. And there I was, wanting to please my diabolical captor, too. But, call me paranoid, it made me deeply suspicious that everyone wanted me to eat from my specially prepared tray.
    “My name isn’t Gwynn.”
    “I can be stubborn, too.” Rogue waved the tray at me. In case I hadn’t noticed it before.
    “If you’re so worried about time,” I countered, “why waste it on me eating? I hear there’s a banquet in my future. Or don’t you people have food at banquets?”
    “Ground Rule Two,” he said. “Don’t act like you’re afraid of being assassinated. You must be