I don’t think I breathe as I take it all in. I’m used to the beauty of the Otherworld, but this truly feels magical.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Flynn,” I say, walking deeper into the room, my gaze moving back to the pool.
I had no idea there even was a place like this in his palace.
“Do you like your wedding gift?” he asks from behind me.
“Wedding gift?” I turn to face him.
Des’s silver eyes gleam.
I glance around again. “Wait, are these … ?”
“Our new rooms.”
He slides his hands into his pockets, stepping up next to me to survey the chambers. “It’s no ocean—I’m afraid there are limits on even what I can do—but I figured my wife needed a place for her siren to unwind.”
Our new rooms. I’m still stuck on that. He did this all for me—for us.
The gauzy curtains blow in from the windows, the wind carrying in the evening scents. I run my hand over a column.
“I love it,” I breathe.
“I’m glad.”
When I glance back at Des, he wears a small smile on his face, his eyes soft.
Genuine happiness looks good on him.
I wander through the suite, taking in the opulent bathroom, with its iridescent turquoise tile and bronze fastenings—each detail harkening to the sea in some way. Around me, the walls of the bathroom are covered in slate grey rock, and the sunken tub is made of the same dark stone.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Des admits, following my gaze. “After all this time, I miss the caves I grew up in.”
Now that I look for it, I see it—the bathroom is some fusion between the ocean that I love and the caverns Des misses.
“It’s perfect.”
I leave the bathroom and walk into our bedroom. The chamber sits under the light of dozens of lamps, their flames sparking like fireworks. The headboard of the bed is the same worked bronze as in Des’s other chambers, but someone’s gone to the trouble of hammering out an image of crashing waves under a star-strewn sky.
There are a thousand other details to this suite that will surely take me days to fully notice and appreciate.
I turn to face Des. “You planned all this?”
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to, it’s all in his eyes. Des must’ve spent ages putting this chamber together. I rub my chest. My heart hurts so damn much.
I shake my head. “Thank you.”
Des disappears, manifesting at my side. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s nothing,” he says, his voice a little rough.
I lean into his touch, giving him a small smile. My gaze sweeps over the rooms again, and again, my eyes catch on that pool.
Really want to get in.
Before I can so much as voice those words, my clothes slip off, leaving behind a strappy bathing suit.
I touch the soft material. “How do you do that?” But it’s not really a question and I don’t expect an answer. Des has always had his ways.
“Magic, love,” he says, answering me anyway.
I back up from him. The Night King watches me with his gleaming eyes, and I feel that gaze everywhere.
“If I get in the pool, will you join me?” I ask.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Do you really want one?”
His eyes narrow, even as delight touches his features. “Answering questions with questions. You are shaping up to be an excellent fairy, Callie.”
I turn to the pool to hide my grin, and slowly lower myself in. The water is cool against my skin and my siren beckons for more.
I sink farther and farther into the glowing liquid until I’m fully submerged.
Des is right—it’s not the tumultuous ocean. There are no sailors to call down to their deaths, no promise of violence. But there’s peace here, beneath the surface. And what’s more, I think as I feel the water shift and Des joins me, there’s sex.
I rise slowly from the lapping waves, my eyes meeting the Bargainer’s. He stands among the water, the glow of it illuminating all the hard planes of his bare torso. His sleeve of tattoos is on display and his hair is tied back in a bun.
He is, in a word, overwhelming.
Slowly I move over to him. As I do so, I slip one of my swimsuit straps over my shoulder and down my arm, then the other. The rest of it is quick to go. The swimsuit was a nice thought, but right now it’s useless to me.
Des watches me with those silver eyes of his. When I reach him, I pause, staring up in his eyes.
“I could never imagine this,” I say. “Not in my wildest dreams could I imagine what life with you would be like.”
He cups the side of his face, his gaze moving to my lips. “It gets to be like this; for the rest of our lives we get to have this—the sweet moments, the confessions, the laughter, the magic—we get to have it all.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “Cherub, you’re every wish of mine.”
Lowering my eyelids, I rise to my tiptoes and kiss him deeply, fiercely. Reaching for his bun, I loosen his hair, letting it fall around his face in waves. This is where I make some comment about his silly man bun, and he has some quip that keeps me on my toes.
But for once, my humor’s abandoned me. All I want is Des, and I’m pretty sure all he wants is me.
His arms come around my waist, and then he’s wrapping my legs around his hips. If Des was wearing a swimsuit, it’s long gone now. I can feel every glorious inch of him bare against me.
I run my palms over his biceps, his tattoos catching my attention. There’s that somber angel and the rose. I touch them with my fingertips. That’s when I notice for the first time the ribbon of inked black beads coiling up his arm.
My fingers pause. “Is this new?”
His eyes seem to be smiling. “I wanted to wear a piece of you on me always.”
I trace the string of beads to his wrist, then back up his arm to his shoulder … where they morph into inked scales. Those, in turn, transition into black feathers. The tiny inked feathers drip down from his shoulder and onto his pec, a few of them breaking away to flutter right over his heart.
I pull my head back. “When—?”
“Last night, when I was supposed to be defending my kingdom.”
So that’s what he was doing away from the castle. My heart hurts with all that I feel.
I study the tattoo again. The beads, the scales, the feathers, those things were once burdens to me.
I wanted to wear a piece of you on me always.
My throat closes up. These rooms were already too much. To hear that he inked these parts of me onto himself …
He must see my throat working, he must know I literally don’t have the words to convey this unimaginable tangle of emotions I feel.
I’m just so unbearably, unspeakably happy.
“I love you, cherub,” he says. “Till darkness dies I will.”
I rise up a little, my body skimming over his hard torso. Between us our bond throbs like a single united heartbeat. I cup his cheeks and press my mouth to his.
Like moonbeams and shadows. That’s how he tastes, how he feels. As though the dark universe itself came together and decided one day to form a man. He still doesn’t seem real. I hope he never does. He’s my magic.
Des lowers me, or maybe I’m the one to sink back down. My skin brightens as the tip of his cock presses against my opening for a moment, feeling thick, much too thick. And then it’s sliding into me, and that exquisite thickness is stretching me, filling me.
I stare into Des’s eyes, and I see an eternity stretched out into them. Years and years of nights like this, love like this.
He pulls his hips back, and I feel the loss everywhere. But in the next instant, he’s sliding back into me, his cock throbbing.
“Love you so much, Callie,” he breathes. “Would’ve waited an eternity if it meant finding you.”
I lean my head against him, feeling him wedged deeply in me.
�
��I would’ve walked through hell to find you,” I whisper back.
He shudders out a breath. “You did, cherub, you did.”
I don’t know which experience he’s referring to, and I don’t really care. None of that horror gets to be a part of this moment.
I run my fingers through his white hair, the strands seeming to glow thanks to the water wetting it.
The two of us move up and down, in and out, pulling away and rushing in like the tides. We’re balanced on the edge of Somnia, with the stars above, and the world below.
Sometimes sex is dirty and carnal, and sometimes, like now, it’s love at its most intimate.
My breasts slide over his chest as I rise and fall, the glowing water making our skin slick.
My breath hitches as Des’s pace picks up and his strokes deepen. The whole time the two of us stare at each other. I don’t know about Des, but I have the most breathtaking view. Planets have spun and stars have aligned to bring us together.
“Every wish …” Des rasps out, taking my mouth.
The taste of him and the feel of him—those are the triggers that send me over the edge. I cry out into his mouth, my grip tightening on Des as my orgasm crashes through me.
The kiss ends as I lap up the last of my climax. Des stares up at me, his silver eyes devouring my expression. His thrusts become frantic, almost punishing.
“My wife,” he says, his voice low. His gaze drops to my lips and his grip tightens.
With a groan, I feel him come. The water splashes around us as he slams into me, again and again. His gaze crawls back up, and he drinks me in as he rides out the last of his orgasm.
Even after we’re finished, we stay locked together. I brush back his wet hair, trying to memorize every feature of his.
“I really love my wedding gift,” I say.
He lets out a low, satisfied laugh. “So do I.”
I don’t know what time it is, only that my body feels boneless and my siren is, for once in her life, fully sated. Des sleeps next to me, his leg thrown over mine, and a heavy arm draped across my body.
I envy the King of the Night his ability to sleep. I’m sure the moment I give into it, the Thief of Souls will be on the other side waiting for me.
Do the dead ever really die? The Thief’s voice echoes through my head. I frown. I can’t escape him, even now.
This is our little game—and trust me, enchantress, it’s far from over.
I roll the words over and over in my mind.
He tricked Des into giving me the lilac wine the night he said that, thus making my magic compatible with his.
All so that what? Why would being magically compatible even matter to him?
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.
Goosebumps bloom across my arms.
Not even in death.
The sleeping soldiers, Galleghar’s incorruptible body, the Thief of Soul’s ability to outlive even death …
I nearly gasp when it comes to me.
Of course. Of course.
All those stupid riddles, and it had been right in front of me the entire time.
Not terribly long ago, Des had explained the four kingdoms of the Otherworld—Night, Day, Flora, and Fauna.
But there were two others.
The Kingdom of Mar … and the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth.
The Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth.
In a world at war, who would truly win?
Death would, that’s who.
Do the dead ever really die?
Jesus.
This is why the Thief can wear the bodies of the dead, and this is how he can send soldiers into a sleep from which they cannot wake. All of the Thief’s strange, mysterious powers that the Otherworld has never seen, they are powers that belonged to the Kingdom of Death.
The throne the Thief sat on, the staggering reach of his magic … He’s not just any fae from the land of the dead—he must be their king.
This, of course, is all assuming I’m right.
I am right. I feel it in my bones.
I shake the King of Night’s shoulder.
Des wakes with a smile, already reaching for me. “Insatiable wife. Want another go?”
If only.
“Des,” I whisper, “I think I know who the Thief is.”
Chapter 31
It’s much, much later by the time I fall asleep. And when I do, the Thief is waiting for me in my dreams, just as I knew he would be.
“So you finally figured it out.” He reclines on his golden throne, and for the first time I see a king in him. Not the kind of king that Des is, dark and honorable and dastardly all at once.
This is the kind of king that you wither back from, the kind of king you hope never notices you.
I lay on the stone floor beneath him, sprawled out like I threw myself at his feet.
“Death is the one kingdom all these self-satisfied fae have forgotten,” he continues.
I don’t bother asking how he knows.
I remember Des’s reaction when I told him my realization. His astounded expression. The disbelief that followed, then the reluctant consideration and, lastly, his horrified acceptance.
Even now I can feel the way the Night King’s hands gripped my upper arms, squeezing them as I explained my reasoning.
He was thunderstruck, but in the end, I felt the hot rush of his pride. You figured it out, cherub. So many lives will be saved because you figured it out.
Trouble is, I’m not sure where we go from here. Knowing who the Thief is doesn’t make him easier to defeat. If anything, the fact that he rules over the dead is a new conundrum.
I mean, can you really kill a thing that lives among the dead? Is that even possible? Des hadn’t known when I’d asked, just as he hadn’t known how to get to the land of the dead without first dying.
The Thief rises from his throne and heads over to me as I begin to sit up. He crouches next to me on the floor. His hand goes to my neck, his flesh cold, so cold. Why had I never noticed that before?
“I will tell you a story,” he says, pushing me back down to the floor.
I don’t try to fight him, though the siren in me wants to. “I don’t really want to hear it,” I say, pinned beneath his hold.
“But I think you do, enchantress.” The Thief of Souls flexes his fingers, pressing lightly against my windpipe. I can tell he wants to do more, that the thought excites him. But like me, he reins in his wilder impulses.
“Many years ago a fairy hungered for power, and he did many terrible things to keep it,” he begins.
The cool floor bites into my skin, and the smell of old bones is back. I swear I can smell spoiled blood rotting away somewhere nearby.
“One day, this fairy discovered that his time would indeed end—unless he took measures to ensure it didn’t.” Another press of his fingers. “I was one of those measures.
“I slumbered for many years before Galleghar sought me out. But then his darkness touched mine, and I awoke.”
My brows knit. I don’t know what to make of his words. The Thief is the King of Death. I assumed that like other fae kings, he was born, he grew into a man, and at some point he inherited the throne. Not this business of him slumbering and waking. I don’t know what to do with that information.
“He gave me life so that one day I might return the favor.” The Thief’s eyes have grown distant. “And so I did, and here we are.”
I stare up at him. I can feel his need to squeeze the life out of me.
“Do it,” I taunt him. “Kill me. I know you want to.”
This is my base nature talking. My siren wants the pain and violence. She welcomes the chaos.
The Thief’s eyes thin, even as he smiles. “You are perhaps the only creature alive who dares my violence.” The Thief’s fingers dig in, and he begins choking me. He leans in close. “And I’m acquiring a taste for your foolish co
urage.”
Can’t breathe.
He leans in close, his mouth only inches from mine. A lock of his dark hair brushes my cheek.
Black dots are beginning to speckle my vision.
“You and I both know I can’t kill you here,” the Thief says, still squeezing my neck.
Need to breathe.
It’s starting to feel like he’s legitimately killing me.
“… But I can hurt you.” To emphasize his point, his grip tightens.
I haven’t moved, haven’t struggled. I want to, I want to claw him off of me, but a deeper, more insidious part of me is shaking off her own deep slumber, and she won’t give this monster anything.
I begin to smile at him, even as darkness creeps in from my vision. “If you want to hurt me—” I’m mouthing the words more than saying them. My surroundings are disappearing as the darkness closes in on my vision. “—you’re going to have to try harder …”
I gasp awake, taking in a lungful of air, then another and another. Overhead, I see silvery wings spread wide.
A moment later, Des’s face fills my vision. “You’re awake.” Relief thickens his voice.
I remember for the millionth time that when the Thief decides to commandeer my dreams, not even the King of the Night can wake me.
I can still feel the press of the Thief’s hand against my neck, and I swear I can taste death at the back of my throat.
Really should stop taunting the Thief.
“Why are your wings out?” I ask, shaking away the last vestiges of the dream.
“Do you know how often I fight this reaction with you?” Des says, sitting back on his haunches. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “A better question would be: why aren’t my wings out all the damn time? I either want to fuck you or fuck up someone for messing with you.”
I give the Bargainer a small smile, and then my eyes return to his wings. I trail my fingers over them again. “Which are you leaning towards at the moment?” I ask.
The Bargainer’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Both.” The expression quickly fades. He traces a knuckle along the side of my face. “You know this is almost over, right?”
I know he’s talking about the Thief of Souls, but for some horrifying reason, I assume he means us. The sheer fear at the thought—it paralyzes me.
Dark Harmony (The Bargainer Book 3) Page 24