The Bargainer stares down my hand, like he can’t believe what’s happening, and I feel an instant’s worth of remorse. It’s crappy to take away someone’s free will.
Desperate times.
His features sharpen, his brows knitting, the rest of his face turning, in one word, sinister.
He rips his arm out of my hand. “You dare to glamour me?” His power rides his voice, and it’s petrifying, filling the whole room.
I step back. Okay, glamouring him might’ve been a shit idea.
“It doesn’t work on you?” What kind of supernatural is immune to glamour?
The Bargainer eases closer to me, his boots clinking ominously. He’s furious, that much is obvious.
He leans in, so close that several strands of his white blond hair tickle my cheeks. “You want to piss your life away by making a deal?” His mouth curves up ever so slightly, his eyes sparking with interest. “Fine, let’s make a deal.”
Present
“I have to say, sleep does not become you.”
I roll over in bed and rub my eyes. When I pull my hand away, I see the Bargainer standing off to the side of the bed, his arms folded and his head cocked. He’s studying me like I’m an exotic bird, which technically, I sort of am.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, still groggy from sleep.
“In case you’ve missed it, the day is done. I’m here to collect more of my payment.” The way he says payment sends shivers up my arms. Behind him, the moon shines brightly into the room.
I groan. I slept the entire day away. Ever since that phone call …
He snaps his fingers and the blankets that cover me slide off.
“Des, what are you—?”
He tsks, interrupting me. “Your pajamas don’t become you either, cherub. I was hoping those would improve with age as well.”
I stifle a yawn and push myself off the bed. “Because I care what you think,” I mumble, padding past him. Where yesterday his presence filled me with old pain, tonight all I feel is annoyance. Well, and a little lust, and a shit-ton of heartache. But right now I’m focusing on annoyance.
I make my way to the bathroom, discreetly wiping away a bit of drool from my mouth.
The Bargainer follows me, enjoying just how much he’s ruining my evening. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says.
In response I slam my door shut in his face. Probably not the wisest way to deal with the King of the Night, but right now I don’t really care too much.
I take two steps away from the bathroom door, and it blasts open behind me. I spin around and stare at the Bargainer, his body filling up the space. My door hangs off its hinges at a funny angle.
“I wasn’t finished,” he says calmly. His eyes glint as they watch me; he’s beautiful and terrible to behold.
“You owe me a new door,” I respond.
He chuckles, and it’s full of dark promise. “Why don’t we work on paying off your current debts before you talk about what I owe you?”
I glare at him, because he has me. “What was so important that you had to blow off my door to tell me?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
A watch forms over his tatted wrist and he taps the face of it. “Time, Callie, time. I have some important appointments to keep. You need to be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Fine.” I walk over to my shower and turn on the facet. This would have to be a fast shower.
When I turn back around, the Bargainer has made himself comfortable on my bathroom’s tile countertop. He leans against the wall next to the mirror, one of his leather-clad legs stretched out in front of him, his other leg bent at the knee.
“Get out,” I say.
He gives me a lazy smile. “No.”
“I’m not kidding.”
One of his eyebrows quirks up. “Nor am I.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not getting naked in front of you.”
“That’s fine with me,” he says. “Shower with your clothes on.”
Oh, because that’s reasonable. “If you’re not going to leave the room, then I’ll go somewhere else.”
“The faucet in your guest bathroom doesn’t work,” he says, calling my bluff. My eyes widen before I remember that it’s his business to know secrets.
He’s not leaving.
“Fine,” I say, taking off my T-shirt. “Enjoy the peep show—that’s all you’ll be getting from me.”
His laughter skitters up my arm. “Don’t delude yourself, cherub. You have a wrist full of debt and I have many, many demands.”
I flash him another nasty look as I step into the shower to remove the rest of my clothing, uncaring that the water is quickly drenching the material. The shower curtain completely hides me from him.
I step out of my pajama bottoms, making sure that when I toss them over the curtain rod I aim right for Des’s perch.
He chuckles sinisterly, and I know without looking, he stopped the clothing from hitting him. “Throwing things isn’t going to change your fate, Callie.”
But it does feel damn good. I chuck my sports bra, then my panties at him. Several seconds after I throw them, I hear them fall uselessly to the ground with a dull plop.
“Seems your pajamas are no better wet than they are dry. Shame.”
“Seems you still think I care,” I fire back.
He doesn’t respond, and the bathroom quickly falls to silence.
This isn’t immensely awkward or anything, I think as I begin to rinse off.
“Why are you here, Des?”
“You already know why,” he says.
To collect.
“I mean, why now? It’s been seven years.”
Seven years of radio silence. And to think this man and I were once nearly inseparable …
“You counted our years apart?” Des says with mock surprise. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed me.” A faint trace of bitterness laces his words.
I turn off the water, snaking an arm around the curtain to grab a towel. “But you do know better.” I wrap the towel around me and step out.
“Sticks and stones, cherub,” he says, hopping off the counter. “Now, chop chop. We’ve got people to see, places to go.” And with that, he leaves the room.
I’m just stepping into my pants, my shitty lingerie on full display, when the Bargainer glances at his watch.
Ever since he left my bathroom, he’s been lounging on a side chair in my bedroom, waiting for me to finish getting ready. One leather-clad leg jiggles as he waits. I can’t help but feel that he’s making sure I don’t try to run.
As if, of the two of us, I’m the one known for running.
“Time’s up, Callie.” He pushes himself out of my chair and strides towards me. There’s something predatory about the way he moves.
“Wait—” I back up and bump into my dresser. My hair is still dripping wet, and my feet are bare.
“No,” he says just as he closes in on me.
I manage to open my dresser drawer and snatch a pair of socks from it before he scoops me up into his arms. He used to hold me like this before he left. He’d press me close against him and rock me in his arms as I cried my heart out. And when I fell asleep, he’d lay next to me for hours, just so he could wake me from my nightmares.
But he’d never kissed me then—he’d never even tried to. Not until that last night, and then, that had still been all me.
“Is this really necessary?” I ask, referring to where I lay in his arms. I push down a shudder. His body still feels like home, just as it did when I was a teenager, and I hate that.
I’ve never been free of him. When the sun hits my face, it’s his shadow I see on the pavement. When the night closes in on me, it’s his darkness that blank
ets my room. When I fall asleep, it’s his face that haunts my dreams.
He’s everywhere and in everything, and no number of lovers can make my heart forget.
Des glances down at me, his silver eyes softening just a smidge. Perhaps he’s also remembering all the other times his skin pressed against mine. “Yes,” is all he says.
Awkwardly I pull one sock over my foot. The other sock slips from my grasp, and I curse as it falls.
A moment later the sock flutters up next to us and lands on my stomach.
“Can you grab my shoes?” I ask.
The Bargainer’s eyes move to the boots resting next to the sliding glass door of my bedroom. As I watch, they lift off the ground and float towards me. I catch them in midair.
“Thanks,” I say, giving him a genuine smile. I’ve watched him do this little parlor trick a hundred times, and I’m always enchanted by it.
For just a split-second, his steps falter. He frowns as he looks down at me, his brows pinching together. And then he resumes walking again.
The sliding glass door unlocks and glides open. Cool night air hits me as the Bargainer steps outside.
“Truth, or dare?” he says just as I finish putting my boots on.
My limbs lock up. Repayment is beginning.
Earlier today I had been ready for it, but now I’m not. He still hasn’t answered why, after all this time, he chose this moment to come back into my life. Or why he left it in the first place. But I know better than to expect an explanation. Getting secrets out of him is harder than bathing a cat.
“Truth.”
“Did you say dare?” he asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at me. His hair isn’t tied back today, and the white strands of it frame his face. “You sirens always do know how to spice things up.”
I don’t bother responding. The Bargainer is crooked through and through, so his words don’t surprise me in the least.
But what he does next does.
The air behind him shimmers and coalesces until a set of folded wings appear, rising above his shoulder blades.
My breath catches in my throat.
All my animosity, all my hurt, all my pain—it all quiets as I stare at those wings.
Dark, silvery skin stretches over bone, so thin in certain areas that I can see the delicate veins beneath. His wings are tipped with bone-white talons, the biggest of them nearly the size of my hand.
I’ve only ever seen Desmond’s wings once before, and then it was because he lost control of his magic. This doesn’t seem spontaneous; this seems deliberate. I can’t imagine why now of all times he’s decided to unveil them, and to me of all people.
I reach over his shoulder and run my fingers across the smooth skin of one. His arms tense around me, and I can feel his breathing still.
“They’re beautiful,” I say. I’d meant to tell him this a long time ago; I just never got the chance.
The Bargainer’s eyes travel down my face to my lips. He stares at them for a beat. “I’m glad you like them. You’re going to be staring at them quite a bit tonight.”
Chapter 5
October, eight years ago
I twist my bracelet round and round my wrist, anxiously playing with the single black bead strung along it, an IOU that I owe the Bargainer for getting the authorities off my back.
Ahead of me, the man himself appears for the second time in my dorm room. He’s clad from head to toe in black, the vintage AC/DC T-shirt he wears hugging his sculpted shoulders and broad back.
As soon as he sees me, he folds his arms over his chest. “My magic is still holding strong,” he says, “so what else could you possibly need from me?”
I twist the bracelet around my wrist again, my heart thumping like mad at the sight of him. “I want to make another deal.”
He narrows his eyes at me.
I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.
Time to soldier on. “I, uh …”
He raises an eyebrow.
Just spit it out, Callie. “… want to buy you for a night.”
Oh. My. Sweet. Lord.
Fuck you, mouth. Fuck you to the fiery pits of hell.
All expression wipes clean from the Bargainer’s face. “I’m sorry, what?”
My cheeks and neck flush. I’m going to die of embarrassment. Scratch that, I wish I could die of embarrassment. Better than just standing here, my mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.
The Bargainer begins to smirk, and somehow that makes this all even worse.
Should never have done this.
“I just want to hang out with you,” I rush in to say. “It would be completely platonic.”
Ugh, and now I sound desperate. But who am I kidding? I am desperate, desperate for companionship. When I came to Peel Academy, I thought I’d fit in and make friends, but it hasn’t yet happened. And I’m so lonely.
“That’s too bad, cherub,” he says, beginning to poke around my room. “I was liking your offer better when it wasn’t platonic.”
I swear my cheeks burn even hotter, my eyes suddenly drawn to the Bargainer’s built torso.
His gaze slides to mine, and now his smirk widens, his eyes glinting mischievously.
He knows exactly where my mind is.
“It would just be for an evening,” I say, watching him as he idly picks up a perfume bottle from the top of my dresser and sniffs it. He winces at the smell, hastily putting it back where he found it.
“I have work,” he says. And yet, he doesn’t leave.
He’s willing to be convinced.
But how to convince him? The last time I glamoured him, it only served to piss him off. I don’t think logic would sway him, and besides, there’s no logic to this. If anything, me wanting to hang out with him for an evening is madness.
The first time I had convinced him to help me, what had I done?
My eyes widen when I remember.
“Bargainer,” I say, heading over to where he stands eyeing my Keep Calm and Read On poster. When I’m close enough, I reach out and touch his forearm, my stomach tightening at the contact. “Please?”
I swear I feel his body shiver under my hand. He looks down at where our skin meets, my hand covering some of his tattoos.
The first time I had convinced him, it hadn’t been my words so much as my touch.
When his silver eyes find mine again, I swear something devious sparkles in them. “You’re pushing your luck, baby siren.”
His fingers brush over my knuckles. “One night,” he says.
I nod. “Just one night.”
Present
Near the edge of my property the Bargainer stops walking, but he doesn’t put me down. Far below us lies the ocean, and nothing but a forty-foot drop separates here from there.
His wings stretch out behind him, and I suck in a breath at the sight. His wingspan is incredible—nearly twenty feet across—and except for their silver hue, they look a lot like bat wings.
I meet his eyes; I know what he’s about to do. “Des, no—”
He flashes me a wicked smile. “Hold on tight, Callie.”
I bite my lip to stifle my scream as he jumps from the cliff. For a second we drop, and my stomach somersaults. Then Bargainer’s wings catch the wind, and the air current pulls us up.
I wrap my hands around his neck and bury my face against his chest. All that’s keeping me from plunging to my death are two sets of arms.
My wet hair whips about my face, the strands now icy cold as we rise in elevation.
“You’re missing the view, cherub,” he says over the howl of wind.
“I’m trying not to barf,” I say, not sure he can even hear me.
It’s not that I’m afraid of heights—I mean,
my house rests on a cliff—but being carried through the air by a fairy is not on my short list of fun activities.
But eventually I do lift my head and look down. The water glitters far below us, and ahead of us, the rest of Los Angeles beckons, the land lit up like a Christmas tree.
The higher we rise, the colder it gets. I shiver against Des, and his grip tightens. He adjusts me slightly so that more of my body is pressed against his.
Just as I feared, being this close to him is reminding me of all those other times he held me close.
“Where are we going?” I yell over the wind.
“ … location of your second dare.” The constant shriek of the wind snatches away most of the Bargainer’s words, but not the important ones. I sort of wish it had.
I can’t imagine what’s in store for me, and considering my sordid past, that’s not a good thing.
Not at all.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I fold my arms, taking in the parking lot we landed in and the building beyond it. “This is what you blew off my door for?” I say, my eyes moving over the couches and tables on display in the store’s windows. “A furniture store?”
His mouth twitches. “I’m redesigning my guest bedroom—or rather, you are.”
I roll my eyes. Picking out furniture, that’s my dare.
“The place closes in fifteen minutes,” the Bargainer says. “I expect you to choose and purchase the appropriate furnishings for a bedroom before then.”
As soon as he finishes speaking, I feel the cloak of his magic settle on my shoulders like a weight, compelling me to action.
I begin moving, grumbling to myself. Of all the dumb, inane tasks, he gives me this one. This is what the Internet is for.
I shouldn’t complain, it could be worse.
It should be worse. I’ve seen enough of Des’s bargains to know what repayment involves. It’s never this effortless.
The Bargainer falls into step beside me, his wings shimmering out of existence. It’s all I can do not to look at him. The man is nothing but a will-o’-wisp, the closer I think I get to him, the farther out of reach he seems.