Wait, is he kidding?
When I don’t immediately answer—because my brain shut off several minutes ago—he slides out of me.
I let out a pained sound, feeling empty without Des between my legs.
I should know my wily fairy better by now.
He dips underwater, moving my legs over his shoulders. And then, right in the middle of the pool, I feel the press of his lips against my core.
Now I let out the moan I held back earlier. And thank God Des is underwater; it’s one hell of an embarrassing sound.
As I lean back against the rock wall, panting, I piece together that this is Des’s dare. For once, I’m not complaining about the Bargainer’s repayment methods.
God, am I not.
He sucks first one lip into his mouth, then the other. I buck against him, his ministrations driving me wild.
His tongue finds my clit, and an unexpected orgasm rips from the depths of me. I cry out as I move against him, my fingers buried in his hair.
How the clever man knows I’ve come is beyond me—like I said, my brain shut off long ago—but my legs slide from his shoulders as he rises up. And then in one smooth thrust, his cock is back inside me, working me from the inside out.
“Ready for number two?” he asks. He doesn’t even sound breathless.
Multiple orgasms? Who is this man?
He begins moving harder, deeper, and like a puppet master, he’s pulling the strings of my body, dragging me back to the edge.
I tighten my grip on him. It’s rough and it’s sweet, relentless and coaxing. I’m almost regretting that I wanted this to be swift and fierce. With Des, I could stay like this forever.
Hypothetically.
Realistically, the moment he kisses me, I’m done.
Like a dam breaking, I find my second release. I’m gasping into his mouth, holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping me from floating away. And then he’s coming too, his lips still moving firmly against mine, his thrusts becoming even deeper and harder.
It seems like we spend an eternity in that moment, locked together, and there’s no beginning or end to us.
But at some point the moment does end. We break off the kiss and Des eases out of me. Neither one of us lets go of the other, our breathing heavy, our bodies plastered together
“Never want to leave,” Des rasps against me.
My grip on his tightens. “Neither do I.”
I don’t know how long we stay like that. Long enough for my skin to dim and our breathing to quiet.
“Cherub,” Des eventually says, “there’s something I wanted to show you.”
With a good amount of reluctance, I slide out of his hold.
Taking my hand, he tugs me towards the waterfall, my feet skimming over smooth river stones as we move. We move beneath the cascading waters, the river pounding against my head and shoulders as Des leads me through it.
On the other side, the glow of the water illuminates the outlines of a cave. Des snaps his fingers, and all at once there’s light.
Hundreds of flickering candles are piled on almost every surface of the cavern, glittering softly in the darkness. The light from the water and the flames dances along the ceiling, the glow of it hypnotizing.
“Wow,” I breathe.
The place is like something out of a dream.
Right in the middle of all the candlelight is a soft pallet piled with blankets, a tray of food sitting next to it.
Des swims to the edge of the pool and pushes himself up onto the rocky lip of the cave, running his hands through his hair as he slicks it back. He turns and reaches for me, every inch of that glorious body of his glistening.
I take Des’s hand and follow him out of the water, my wings heavy. Before I can look for a towel, he reaches around me and runs a hand over my feathers.
A warm brush of magic tickles my back, and in an instant, my wings, skin and hair are all dry. When I glance at him again, I notice that he, too has dried himself.
That’s about the moment I realize that Des and I are both still naked. It’s both odd and oddly enjoyable to be laid bare like this in front of each other. There are so many firsts I’m only now experiencing with this man.
I step up to the pallet and fold my knees under me, stretching my wings out behind my back. In here, the churning sound of the waterfall echoes. This feels like some primitive temple, and Des the god it pays homage to.
The Bargainer sits down next to me, the tips of his wings lifting to rest themselves on a nearby rock. He takes in our surroundings. “After all this time, I find myself back in a cave,” he says wryly. His words remind me of those caverns back in Arestys.
There’s a vulnerability to him in this moment.
Even now he struggles to let down his guard.
I want to tell him that this place is perfect, that he’s perfect. That I cherish every broken bit of him.
But I don’t say any of this. He is, after all, at his core, just as uncomfortable with emotional intimacy as I am.
Instead, I reach out and run my hand over his wings.
He closes his eyes, like he’s savoring the sensation. Getting up, I circle behind him, studying the silvery skin of them as my hand passes over each talon and joint.
Beneath my touch, I feel him shiver. His wings stretch in response, the fine veins of them clearly visible even here in the dim lighting.
“I always assumed that fairies had butterfly wings,” I admit.
“You’re not wrong,” Des says, his back still to me. “Mine are particularly rare.”
He turns long enough to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me back to the soft pallet, his hands drifting down to cup my ass. This, naturally, makes my skin come to life as the siren wakes up.
Des’s expression, of course, is one of complete innocence.
I give him a look that says, I’m onto you.
His eyes crinkle, and he laughs. “So suspicious of my motives. It’s like you think I’m just trying to get into your pants.”
As if he’s not. He’s a slippery fucker.
“You say that as though you didn’t literally strip me of my pants five minutes ago,” I say.
“I think it was a little more than five minutes ago.”
I barely manage to not roll my eyes. Apparently, human or fairy, male egos are still very much the same.
Des spreads his body out next to mine, his hand lingering on the dip where my waist is. The warm, humid air of the place caresses my skin and curls my hair.
Propping myself up, I reach out and continue to trace what I can of Des’s wings.
“So, all fairies have insect wings but you?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Most do, but not all,” he says, running his hand up my waist and over my ribcage. “There are other wing-types too. Some fairies have avian wings like yours.”
“Why are yours different?” I ask.
He stares off in the distance, his thumb absently stroking my skin, drawing out goosebumps. “Some say my line’s descended from dragons,” he murmurs, the candlelight dancing over his body. “Others say that we come from demons.”
Dragons? Demons?
Damn.
I’m not going to pretend I understand how fairy lineages work.
“I always thought they looked like bat wings,” I admit.
“Bat wings?” Des raises his eyebrows, his gaze refocusing on me.
I’m pretty sure that once again I’ve offended him, but then he throws his head back and lets out a laugh.
“So what is it? Dragon or demon?” I ask.
Des lifts a shoulder, his expression still playful. “The family history goes so far back that no one remembers.”
I think about Des’s mother, the scribe, telling a small boy with white hair all sorts of stories—and amongst them, tales of his heritage.
I smile a little at the thought. I can’t imagine being told dragons existed … and that I might be descended from one of them.
“
What is it?” Des asks, touching a finger to my lower lip like he wants to steal my smile for himself.
I shake my head. “I’m just imagining you as a boy listening to stories from your mother about your ancestors.”
Immediately, Des’s expression shuts down.
I’ve said the wrong thing, I know it.
I expect him to pull away and run like all those times he used to. I’m steeling my heart against the possibility.
But he doesn’t run, he doesn’t leave.
He simply says, “The stories are from my father’s side of the family.”
The same father that had something to do with his mother’s death.
Yikes.
I reassess Des’s wings. I hadn’t realized that they might represent something terrible about his past—the same way mine did. It’s odd to look at his wings and see something very different than what he must.
I ask softly. “What do you think: that you’re descended from demons or dragons?”
“Knowing my father? Demons.”
My throat works. I really, really want to ask him about his father, but I can’t bring myself to form the words. There’s clearly an ocean of bitterness and anger buried beneath that relationship.
“Well,” I say, running a hand over the fine bones of the wing closest to me, “whatever their origin, I think they’re perfect.”
Beneath my touch, a tremor runs through Des’s body.
“That doesn’t scare you?” he asks. “That I might have a little demon blood running through me?”
I shrug. “You met me the day I killed my stepfather.” I finger one of his talons. “And I’ve seen you execute men. I think we’re past that.”
At my words, Des’s eyes deepen. He pulls me in close, one of his wings covering me like a blanket. He kisses the tip of my nose, then rests his chin against the crown of my head.
“Thank you, cherub,” he says softly.
I’m not sure what he’s thanking me for, but I nod against him anyway, stroking his face. Eventually, my eyes drift close, my body warmed by Des’s.
And that is how we spend our first night on Lephys. Not in the palatial home beyond the pool, but in this humble cave, our naked bodies tangled together.
Chapter 14
When Des and I finally return to the city of Somnia, something about me is noticeably different.
I no longer hate my wings … or my scales or claws. Somehow, during the course of a week, I found the very things that frightened me about myself now … empower me.
I can fly. I can cut a bitch with my bare hands.
There’s strength in that, whether Karnon intended it or not.
My training with Des has also bolstered my courage. I swear my arms and legs are more defined, and even though I haven’t been able to land a blow on Des yet, I’m beginning to fight with more confidence.
I won’t admit this to Des, but I’m glad he forced me to train with him. I might hate the process, but I kind of dig the results. I also am coming to love the sweet pair of blades strapped to my hips. They clink against my clothing now as Des and I walk down the familiar hallways of his palace.
The tower room Des leads me to is one of the coolest places in the palace. Made of floor-to-ceiling glass window panes, the tower room gives me a bird’s eye view of all of Somnia, from the castle grounds to the city spread out beyond it.
Aside from the lanterns hanging overhead, the only piece of furniture in the room is a massive table currently set for two. Spread out on it is what looks and smells suspiciously like Indian food, my favorite.
Des swaggers over to the table, wearing the same dark pants and shit-kicking boots that he did back on earth, his hair tied back with a leather cord.
I stare at the thick bands of muscle and the inked skin of his arms as he pulls out a chair for me. The only fae addition to his attire at the moment are the three bonze war cuffs that ring one bicep, and that pretty much just adds to his sex appeal at this point.
I slide into the seat he offers, watching him take his own.
Before I can even begin to serve myself, he does it for me. A plate of aloo gobi and another of rice lift into the air and meander over to me.
While I begin to scoop out a helping, a teapot moves to the mug in front of my plate, and it pours me a cup of chai.
“How did you even get your hands on this stuff?” I ask as I finish serving myself.
Des leans back in his seat, looking all too proud of himself. “There are perks to being a king.”
He spends a good five minutes watching me eat before he joins me. I know the man likes good Indian food himself—he’s the one that introduced me to the cuisine—but he seems more interested in my enjoyment than his own.
“Mind mixing a little business with dinner?” Des asks eventually.
I shrug. Now that we’re back in Somnia, it’s back to work for Des and back to finding things to do with myself for me. There’s pretty much nothing worse than boredom, so I’ll take a little business with dinner if it gives me something to do.
I use my napkin to wipe my mouth. “What’s up?”
Des snaps his fingers, and a sheet of parchment appears in midair, fluttering down in front of me. I don’t reach it before it lands on the plate of chicken tikka masala, the food’s oily orange sauce bleeding onto the paper.
Leaning forward, I grab the sheet of parchment and use my napkin to dab the sauce off of it.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask, frowning when my efforts to clean the paper only end up further smearing sauce all over it.
On the parchment is a chart of sorts, one column containing a list of names, another containing gender, another containing dates and times, another location, and then finally, a column containing what looks to be notes.
The Bargainer nods to the paper. “That’s a list of all the soldiers who’ve disappeared within the last three months,” he says, taking a sip of his chai.
I raise my eyebrows, looking at the chart all over again. The sight of so many names is staggering, and this list includes not just the missing female soldiers, but the missing male ones as well.
So far, Des and I haven’t talked much about the men who have disappeared from the Kingdom of Night, mostly because, unlike the women, the men who vanished have not reappeared, giving us no clues as to what might have happened to them.
“Notice anything unusual?” Des asks, watching me from over the rim of his cup.
I continue to skim the chart. “You know, if there’s something you want me to notice, you could just come out and say …” My words dry up when I get to the dates.
Since Des killed Karnon, no women have disappeared … but five men have.
I glance up at the Bargainer. “The men are still vanishing.”
Des looks out the window at the twinkling city below. “Many men disappear in the Night Kingdom,” he says conversationally. “It could be nothing.”
I can practically hear the but that follows his statement.
“What is it?” I ask, lowering the parchment.
He takes another sip of his tea. “Four of the last five men who’ve gone missing are soldiers.”
Too many disappearances to be a coincidence, which means …
It’s not over.
The paper rustles a little as my hand begins to tremble.
“But you killed him,” I say softly.
Des’s eyes soften as he gazes at me. “I killed Karnon.”
It takes me a few more seconds to put together what Des isn’t saying.
When I do, my eyes widen. “Someone else is taking the men.”
Chapter 15
Karnon only ever took the women. Now that Des killed him, those disappearances have stopped. The paper in my hand says as much.
But the men …
“So you think there’s more than one person behind this.” I stare at Des across the table, dumbfounded. “But … why? And how?”
Des runs a hand through his white blond hair, his a
rm muscles rippling. “I’m working on that.”
Just then, Malaki comes into the room, his strides long and powerful, looking every inch the pirate with his eye patch and scruffy cheeks.
He drops a large, waxy leaf on the table. “Solstice invite—the third one they’ve sent, for the record.” He crinkles his nose. “Ugh, what’s that smell?” he says, grimacing at the plates of Indian food scattered across the table.
Did he actually just scorn my dinner?
Des leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not going to Solstice this year.”
Malaki takes a seat, a plate and place settings appearing in front of him. A moment later he reaches for the tray of samosas.
“Really?” I say derisively to him, raising my eyebrows. A moment ago he’d been hating on my dinner, and now he’s about to eat it. “That’s how you’re going to play this?”
He gives me a confused look as he adds the samosa to his plate. Turning his attention to Des, he says, “That’s a really bad idea.”
Des lifts a shoulder. “Last time Callie visited another kingdom, she was someone’s prisoner.”
“And then you killed that kingdom’s king,” Malaki says smoothly. “I think everyone knows not to fuck with your mate.”
“We’re not going,” Des repeats.
“Being a mate does not mean you stop being a king.”
“Careful.” Des’s words cut through the room like a whip, his power riding them.
Malaki sits back in his seat, bowing his head. “Apologies, my king.”
The Bargainer’s body seems to ease, and the power that thickened the air moments ago now recedes.
“Loi du royaume,” Des says quietly.
Malaki mouth goes grim. “I know.”
I glance between the two men. So far I’ve been somewhat able to follow the conversation, but now they lost me.
“What’s that?” I ask. “That phrase you just said.”
Des nods to his friend. “Tell her, Malaki. If she’s to go and subject herself to Solstice because you think it’s a good idea, then you tell her what she’s going to have to sacrifice.”
Malaki sighs, then turns his attention to me. “You know the human saying, ‘When in Rome do as the Romans do’?”
A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer Book 2) Page 10