“Shame I stopped that so soon.”
Ugh. This is what happens when your soulmate is a fairy. True shows of devotion often involve spilling blood.
“But you’re forgetting all the men and women who’ve approached you,” he adds.
Men and women who then took one look at the menacing Bargainer and rethought their game plans.
Des sets the beer he now holds on a nearby table. “Why don’t we call it a night?”
The body shots have been drunk, the good times have been had, and everyone else here is now a sloppier mess than either of us. It’s as good a time as any to get going.
The two of us leave the club, heading down a couple blocks until we get to a local cemetery. Once there, Des leads me through a ley line entrance, the air wavering as we step through.
It takes less than a minute to travel from London back to California, and when we step off the ley line, we’re back in Des’s house.
The Bargainer whisks me out of the circular portal room, the door clicking shut at my back, lock after intricate lock engaging.
I glance at Des, who leans against the door for a moment. He’s got the devil in his eyes when he looks at me.
“What?” I say. My blood is beginning to rush through my veins.
“You didn’t think I’d let you take those body shots without repayment now, did you?” Des says.
In a blink he’s in front of me.
Shamefully, his shirt is back on. It brushes against mine as he steps into my space, backing me against a nearby wall.
“How do you want it—on the floor, against the wall, or over the counter?”
Christ. My skin begins to glow as my siren awakens, drawn by sex and magic.
His hand dips into my pants and cups my sex. “Or would you rather I choose for you?”
I gasp, my hands coming to his upper arms, my fingers digging in.
It takes little effort for him to slide my panties aside and dip a finger into my core. “I’m taking that as choose for me.”
“Des.”
He’s feral and overwhelming and silver-tongued and so very, very fae.
A second finger dips in. I moan at the sensation.
My fingernails sharpen as I clutch him, my claws pricking his skin. My nails dig deeper, and the King of the Night grins when they pierce his flesh.
We really are a twisted pair, getting off on blood and sex.
My breath is coming in pants, my legs parting wider as I urge him on.
His nose and lips brush my flush cheeks. “Or perhaps I’ll choose none of that. How I do love seeing you fall apart at my touch. Perhaps my touch is all you’ll get.” He nips at my chin, toying with me. Clearly enjoying that I’m clay in his hands right now, ready to be molded into whatever shape he wants.
A minute ago I wasn’t thinking of sex, now I’m lamenting the slow torture of him burning me up without properly filling me.
I begin to reach for his pants when he catches my wrist and pins it to the wall.
“Ah ah. That’s not how this works.” Des kisses my neck then moves his attention to my mouth, tasting like liquor and dark deeds. All the while his deft fingers stroke me up and down.
He takes my lower lip between his teeth, rolling it around, his clever eyes particularly devious.
He releases my lip.
“Come against my hand,” Des demands.
It’s the same pushy order he used to give me back when I had a bracelet of beads.
And even though the bracelet is long gone, I feel the Bargainer’s magic bloom between my legs, strange and forbidden.
My knees go weak as my orgasm is pulled from me, sweeping through my system. The pleasure is violent and sudden. It seems to stretch on and on, and even once the waves of it abate, the comedown seems to last a lifetime.
I lean my head against the wall, breathless and flushed. “You are such a bastard,” I murmur.
“Awww, you don’t really mean that, cherub,” Des says, removing his fingers from my panties. He places the two of them in his mouth, licking them clean.
Have I mentioned how dirty he is?
It only takes a minute or so for me to regroup from getting fingered within an inch of my life. My siren is riding high. Far from being satiated, she’s only just gotten a taste of sex.
Pushing off the wall, I prowl over to the Bargainer. Taking his jaw gruffly, I kiss his mouth.
“For a guy that specializes in favors, your repayment plans lately could use some work,” I say, tapping the side of his jaw with a clawed forefinger.
I’m sure I look just as devious as he does.
Releasing his jaw, I kneel down in front of him.
“Callie …”
I begin to unbutton his pants, glancing up at him. Des’s eyes are crackling with desire; Des wants to tell me to stop, but he also wants my lips around his cock—and he wants that very badly.
The zipper makes a hissing noise as I pull it down. “Lucky for you, when it comes to repayment, I’m willing to help.”
Chapter 25
The world forms from chaos, blurs of color sharpening until they become things.
The first thing I notice is the tickle of wheat against my open palm. Then it’s the vivid blue sky bearing down on me.
Then it’s the Thief.
He walks through the fields dressed in black, looking like a reaper come to collect my soul. Like the last dream, seeing him this way is disarming. If you take the monster living under your bed and put it in broad daylight, what then?
He comes up to me, uncomfortably close. This is where I cringe away from him, where I revolt.
“You went to bed with one man, and woke with another. How very confusing,” he says.
I’m not awake. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but then I hesitate.
I get the uncanny feeling that this is what I’m supposed to say. That the Thief has our entire interaction choreographed, and it’s all a part of our little game.
Only, I no longer want to play.
I’m done revolting, done being scared, done acting according to some pre-ordained script.
Rather than responding, I squint at our surroundings.
From horizon to horizon it’s endless golden fields rippling under a painfully blue sky. The sifting sounds of wind sing through the wheat.
“How do you choose where we meet?” I ask.
His hair stirs as he answers, “Whatever pleases me in the moment, that’s what I choose.”
As my eyes take in that sharp blue sky, clouds begin to roll on the horizon. They move unnaturally swift, gathering on each other.
The Thief of Souls can build dreamscapes and wear the faces of the dead. Two staggering powers.
The clouds darken like bruises until they’ve shadowed the land. The sky splits open above us, and the heavens unleash. Lightning flashes and thunder booms.
Rain pelts down on me, and the wind lashes against my body, whipping my hair about. I feel like I’m at the center of some terrible vortex, and the magnitude of it all is dizzyingly beautiful.
“Does it frighten you?” the Thief asks. He watches me carefully, the wind and rain tearing at him.
No.
I turn to him, my wet hair slapping at my skin. “Do you want it to?”
An enigmatic smile crosses his face and his eyes flash alongside the lightning.
Just as swiftly as the storm moves in, it retreats. The rain stops, the sky clears, and the sun peeks out again.
“I think you have better things to fear from me.” He begins to circle me. “Things worse than death.”
I remember Karnon’s prison, the women shackled in iron, raped by the Thief, slowly losing themselves to his dark magic. I think of the soldier I interviewed.
It’s dark here. Very dark.
I want to rest. Why can’t I rest?
He comes back to my front. “I will never leave you alone, enchantress. Never. Banish the hope if you have it. You cannot ever escape my clutches. Not even in death.�
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I search his dark eyes. “What have I done?”
Is it being a siren? Is it as simple and as shallow as pretty skin molded over pretty bones? Or is it something more specific to me? Something that went wrong long ago?
There’s a part of me, a long dormant part of me, that’s awakening. It should’ve been pulled free back in high school, when my powers blossomed, or when Karnon altered me, or even when Des fed me the lilac wine, but it wasn’t.
It didn’t happen then, but I can feel it now, some long buried strength upwelling from deep within me.
The Thief tilts his head. “What have you done?” he echoes. “You have enlivened me. You make me feel the blood rushing through my veins.” He steps in close. “You have aroused me. Dirty human, beautiful woman, unlikely enchantress. You have caught my attention, and I will enjoy you for a time.”
I’m not going to escape him.
This is the one simple truth I’d been denying for so long, and now I face it.
I’m really not going to escape him. One day soon, I will have to face the Thief, not in a dream, but in waking life. A reckoning is coming for us, and by the end of it, one of us will be the victor, and one, the vanquished.
“I will break you again and again until there is nothing left to break,” the Thief says softly, running his knuckles over my cheek.
Break me?
I’ve been thinking about this wrong all my life. I’m not porcelain to be shattered, I’m something else entirely.
Break me?
I level my pitiless gaze on him. “You can try.”
The next morning, when I wake, I’m alone in Des’s bed.
For a moment, I simply lay there, gathering my pillow up and breathing in the Bargainer’s scent.
Eventually, I sit up, running my hands through my hair. On the bedside table, a cup of coffee sits. The note beside it says, Till darkness dies.
A little smile slips out. I take the mug, and sip, letting my mind drift.
Inevitably, my thoughts move to last night’s dream. For the first time since I started having them, I’m not frightened by the nightmare. The Thief of Souls and I are pitted against one another, not as hunter and hunted, but as adversaries. And that detail changes everything.
Since Karnon’s death, I’ve been in the business of running—so much so that I haven’t truly done any chasing.
Setting my coffee aside, I slip out of bed and rifle through Des’s things until I find a notebook and a pen. Clambering back into bed, I uncap the pen and press it to the page.
The Thief of Souls – controls dreams (small death), wears the bodies of the dead, wields dark magic, places fairies into a stupefied state, fathers children who drink blood and prophesize …
Most of the attributes have something to do with death, and those that don’t seem to be attributes of Night fairies. Not that this knowledge brings me any closer to answers.
Stupid mystery.
I could just glamour the Thief and force the confessions out of him.
Holy shit.
I could do that. Why have I not thought of this sooner?
I’m elated for two-point-five seconds before I remember that I freaking already tried this hat trick after I drank the lilac wine, when he came to me in a dream. It didn’t do a damn thing but excite the freak.
So much for that idea. Unless dreams have their own sort of logic to them. Maybe he’s only impervious to my glamour in dreams …
I rub my forehead. I mean, who the fuck knows at this point? I’m running in circles here and all I’m managing to do is to confuse myself.
Setting my notes aside, I push myself out of Des’s bed. I steal an Iron Maiden shirt from his drawer, ignoring the folded set of women’s clothing clearly meant for me, grab my mug, then pad down the hall.
I find the King of the Night in his living room, blessedly shirtless as he paces back and forth. He stares down at an unrolled piece of parchment, his brow furrowed and his lower lip pinched between his fingers.
His eyes move from his work to me. A grin spreads across his face when he catches sight of my T-shirt. “That is a very good look on you, Callie.”
I hold up the mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Anytime, love.”
“What are you reading?” I ask, coming over to him.
His gaze drops to the paper and his frown returns. “Reports on the state of the Otherworld.”
For a moment, the information is a shock. I’d almost managed to forget that even on earth Des has a host of responsibilities he still must attend to.
See, this is proof I’d make a shitty queen.
“What are they saying?” I ask.
“Malaki tracked Galleghar to the Fauna Kingdom, but lost him there. And, as far as the kingdoms themselves go, Flora and Fauna are suffering massive casualties.
“The wholesale slaughter in those kingdoms continues. The Thief’s soldiers are moving to all the big cities and killing any fae they come across. The sleeping soldiers are sustaining heavy losses themselves—Flora and Fauna fae aren’t just going down without a fight—but the carnage continues.”
This entire time, fairies have been dying. While I was taking body shots off of Des, those soldiers were cutting through innocents.
My stomach rolls at the thought.
You’ve let yourself be idle, my siren whispers. This is what happens.
“Why would the Thief do that?” Conquering is a bloodsport, but these kingdoms have already fallen. There’s no reason the deaths should continue.
“Why would he, indeed?” Des looks up from the paper, meeting my eyes. “You have a box of memorabilia from some of the worst humans. What would they do if they came into power?”
They’d kill and maim and run their kingdoms lawlessly, and no one would be safe but for them.
“This isn’t a human we’re dealing with,” I object.
Humans have their own drives, fae another.
“Evil doesn’t work that differently between worlds,” Des says. “Although fae do have a knack for creativity and flare.”
Des sets the parchment aside. “Oh, by the way, I thought you should know, Typhus Henbane is dead.”
It takes me a minute to place the name.
The King of the Banished Lands, the one who we’d come to for news of Galleghar.
The man with a city’s worth of stolen magic is now dead, and I’m at least partially responsible for it.
Yesterday, that piece of information would’ve sat like a stone in my stomach. Today … today I’m in an odd mood.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Exactly what you feared might happen. His people rose up against him and slaughtered him. They took back their magic.”
The magic he’d forced them to barter away …
Bartered magic.
My eyes snap to Des.
“What?”
I run back to his bedroom, only to find the Bargainer is already there waiting for me. He stands, arms folded, watching me with curious eyes. Sidestepping him, I grab the paper I left on the bed and stare at my notes.
“Can I have my timeline?” I beckon to Des with my hand.
Wordlessly, the Bargainer produces the timeline I’d created days ago, dropping it in my hand.
I set the two papers side by side on the mattress. Over my shoulder, the Bargainer stares down at them.
It was right in front of me the entire time.
“Galleghar and the Thief share powers.”
Chapter 26
Galleghar and the Thief share powers.
I don’t know how or when or why the two of them are linked up, but I would stake serious money the two are cobound. That would explain why Galleghar keeps popping up during our search for the Thief. He’s hooked on the same magical powerline that the Thief of Souls is. So long as their magic is bound together, you can’t have one without the other.
The proof of their strange partnership is mapped out on the timeline. Centuries ago Gallegh
ar is killed, only his body is incorruptible, defying the natural order. For two hundred years he lay dormant—much like the sleeping soldiers—until he was awoken by a shadow—a shadow similar to the one that haunted the sleeping women and the casket children.
When I turn to face Des, he looks … horrified. The expression is only there for a moment before he tucks it away.
His gaze moves to mine. “Gods.” He takes a step closer. “That would explain why my power wouldn’t destroy the sleeping soldiers.”
Because the shadows are loyal to their own. Even if the Thief isn’t a Night fae, his life and magic is cobound to a man who is one.
The darkness will betray you.
I grab my notes and read over the list of the Thief’s traits. His powers obviously have something to do with necromancy, but necromancers are mortal, and the Thief is not.
“Des, can you think of any fae that can do what the Thief can?”
It’s an old question, one the two of us have run around a dozen times already. So I’m not surprised when Des shakes his head. Whatever the shadows tell Des, they won’t tell him this. There are some secrets not even they will give up.
Unfortunately, those are the secrets worth knowing.
The day passes idly enough. Des and I have a proper breakfast, then lounge and bask in each other, and the hours flit by.
By midday, I’m swimming in the ocean beneath Des’s house—I even manage to drag the King of Night into those chilly waves. And, far from shore, I show him that sirens don’t just like killing men in the water.
We enjoy fucking them too.
At some point we head back over to my house. Des fixes the busted faucet in my spare bathroom, and I give him a very personal thank you. We cook, we chat, we enjoy each other.
It’s simple and lovely and quintessential—and yet.
Neither Des nor I get to have this life—not while the Thief and Galleghar are terrorizing the world—and no amount of bargaining can change that. At some point, our little vacation here on earth will end, and then we’ll have to go back to the Otherworld and deal with all the problems we left behind.
Dark Harmony (The Bargainer Book 3) Page 20