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Eleven

For three nights, I had a nightmare that terrified me when I woke up. It started with being in a room with Rogue and his friends. One minute they were laughing, and the next thing I knew, they were stabbing me. When I woke up, I was shaking. Rogue's twisted games were starting to get to my head, and I felt like I needed to breathe, but most importantly, I needed Veronica.

The third night, it decided to change into something else. I had a dream that forced me to wake up in the middle of the night, panting and sweating, soaked panties, and completely left aroused. My insides had twisted into knots when I remembered the two of us tangled in the throes of passion. My subconscious was leading me down to a road that I shouldn't walk on. Rogue wasn't mine. I couldn't have anything with him. He was bad for me. Dangerous. He scared me to my very core. Every time I was in his presence, I felt like pulling him to me, but every time I was also in his presence, I felt the urge to run away. These thoughts and feelings needed to be rid of.

Three days until Veronica gets me out. Three days. I just needed to hold on to that.

I rubbed my tired eyes and tried to focus on the person entering the room. Rogue took the armchair at the opposite wall. The sight of him turned the blood in my veins into molten lava. My breath caught reflexively as if breathing in his presence was forbidden. Nervously, I grabbed a pillow and squeezed it to my chest.

"Rogue," I said with a slight nod. He didn't reply. He just stared at me, watching me... unnerving me like he did the first time. There was something different about him that I couldn't put my finger on, but if he wanted me to fear him, I was giving in to that desire.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. "What's happening?" Before my mind could register his advance, he was already on the bed, crouched over me. He stabbed a fist in the headboard above my head, pinning me in with his body. Heat rolled off him.

In my dream, he would have been kissing me right now, taking my pants off, and fucking me until all I could scream was his name, all I could think about was him and that moment. I blinked once, trying not to shake. His nose was a mere inch from mine, and I could see a scar under his left eye that I hadn't seen before.

I pushed against his chest, but Rogue was made of steel and stone. He was close that I could feel the heat of his breath and the brush of scruff along his jaw. His eyes bore into mine, emitting all sorts of emotions. Even his gaze seemed different. It wasn't as intense as I knew it to be.

I felt the brush of his hair against my cheek, and I sucked in a breath of surprise when he dipped his head and pressed his forehead against mine, our noses, our chins, our lips, just a breath away.

What are you doing? Wasn't he trying to stay away from me? I felt his body shudder above mine.

"Rogue, get off me," I pleaded, a whistle of breath coming out from my mouth. He pulled back to stare with eyes that held me in place, brewing with longing, pain, and anguish. They swirled with chaos, coaxing me, pulling me into hopeless depths of despair.

I felt him. I felt his pain and agony. I felt loneliness. Horror and evil. A soul so dark that it made me shiver. My soul cried for him, thrashing against his agonized and tortured gaze. I felt myself trying to reach into him, to grab hold of his so I could see what he was hiding from me, but it was enough to make him pull away fast, taking everything with him. He was off me with lightning speed, rushing out of the room without a glance.

Just what the hell was wrong with him?

*

I woke up in the library with a blanket pulled up to my chest. There was a glass of orange juice on the coffee table that I hadn't gulped down before I went to sleep but found half of it gone. I was alone, but the door was opened. Pushing myself to a sitting position, I rubbed the back of my head. There was a feeling in my gut—a strange, twisting notion that something was going to happen. I couldn't deny it.