Whispers

 
 

The Match

"Mon Dieu! You're killing me, chère."

Rogue merely smirked. She had been preparing for this moment for months, training with Logan, reading books, and honing her instincts. She worked her way up slowly, beating out the lesser ranks, eventually defeating Logan himself.

Finally, she had challenged the resident thief, poker master, and ladies man to a duel, winner get a month of slavery from the other. His eyes had glowed redder at the thought. Clearly, having her as a slave for a month appealed.

So they had sat down without powers, alcohol, or cheating, with Logan and Emma—brawn and brain—for referees, and the match began.

Early on, Remy appeared to be winning. She made him work for it. Both appeared smooth, blasé, leaning back in their seats and sipping on water and soda. About halfway through and even on wins and losses, his red and black eyes met her green ones. She saw the recognition in his own. That she was holding back. That she wasn't the same Rogue he whipped at cards a year ago. She smiled then, a soft smile that told him nothing.

"Having fun, Swamp Rat?"

"Just wondering what you're up to, chère."

She laughed wickedly. "I'm out to win."

The game continued in earnest. Both hunkered down and plied their skills, effortlessly dealing, counting, and playing cards. Her eyes glittered greenly. His glowed red. The flirtatious banter continued (he was probably incapable of stopping that), but otherwise, all was now much more serious.

Then, her final coup, winning as she had threatened him twelve months ago she would.

Rogue merely smirked at his helpless expression. He eyed her warily.

"A month?"

"A month, slave."

Emma laughed and Logan slapped his back.

The White Queen twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "She didn't cheat. Not once."

Remy measured Rogue again. "A month?"

Rogue merely smirked.



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