I lean back in Des’s arms and stare up at him.

  “Hi.”

  He glances down at me, his white hair framing his face. “Hi, cherub.”

  “You’re kinda cute,” I say.

  He raises an eyebrow.

  I reach up and trace his lips. “I wouldn’t mind having little mini Deses running around. Someday, that is. Not today, but you know, in the future—hey, if I’m cherub, what would you call our kids? Is there a name for baby-baby angels?”

  “Hmm,” he says, assessing me with his bedroom eyes, “I’m sure I’d call them something different, love. Now, eager as I am to have this conversation, I’m not going to make any plans with you until I know you’ll be able to remember them.”

  My head lolls a little. “You want to have baaaabies with me,” I sing. “Lots and lots and lots of…baaaabies with me.” I kick my legs a little as I say the words, my skin brightening and dimming.

  This alcohol is really laying into me now that I’m free of that boring meeting.

  I flash the Bargainer a cheesy smile, reaching up to play with his hair.

  He gives the ceiling of the bathhouse a long-suffering look. You’d almost think time rewound eight years, back to when I was striking deals…

  I sit up a little straighter in his arms. “Hey!” I hiccup. “Let’s make a d—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  He quiets me with a kiss. A long, drawn-out kiss that causes my toes to curl and my skin to flare to life. My siren surges through me, and suddenly the kiss has 110 percent of my focus. I wrap a hand around the back of Des’s neck and fall into the taste of him.

  So damn hot. Him, this room, the kiss, this kingdom in general. All of it.

  Before I have a chance to turn the kiss into something deeper, it ends.

  I stare up at him. “I still have to pee really, really badly.”

  He huffs out a laugh. “Callie, the Killer of Moments.”

  “Hey! You’re the Moment Killer.”

  “Am I now?” he says.

  He sounds amused.

  “That’s because I am amused,” he replies.

  “Ugh, when will this alcohol wear off?”

  “Probably not for a while—you drank a lot of it.”

  Awesome.

  Des walks us to a door, pushing it open with his body, and then he muscles us into a fancy little bathroom.

  The Bargainer sets me down. “I’ll be right outside.”

  “Wait.” I catch his arm. “Will you stay in here with me?”

  Des tilts his head. “There’s no distance with you, is there?” he says. His eyes are totally laughing at me.

  “That’s a yes, isn’t it?”

  He sighs. “Can’t deny you anything.”

  Yay!

  “Okay, face the door,” I say, while I move to the toilet. “I don’t want you to see anything.”

  “Heaven forbid I catch sight of my mate’s pussy—”

  “Des!”

  He lifts his hands. “I’m facing the door. Want me to plug my ears too?”

  Yes? No? Maybe? “Plug one of them.”

  Now I definitely hear him laugh.

  Once I’m sure he’s not looking and only half listening, I lift my filmy skirt and sit—

  I let out a very unladylike screech as my ass misses the toilet, and I sprawl on the floor next to it. My skirts are around my head, my unmentionables exposed.

  Des turns around. I’ll give him this—he doesn’t laugh, though I’m sure it’s taking everything in him not to.

  “Cherub.” He comes over and helps me up, then properly sets me on the toilet. He brushes my hair back. “What happened?”

  Alcohol happened. That’s what.

  I cover my face. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  The Bargainer removes my hands, kissing my knuckles. “At least you didn’t start peeing.”

  I might’ve.

  “Oh. Comment redacted then.”

  I fucking hate aelerium liquor.

  ***

  By the time the Bathroom Incident We’ll Never Talk About Again is behind us, the liquor has worn off somewhat.

  Des makes a disbelieving noise at the back of his throat.

  All right, it’s worn off just a little.

  “So little that science doesn’t yet have the tools to quantify such a minuscule measurement,” Des says.

  “Pshhh. Why do you have to be so witty all the time?”

  He begins to answer, but I cover his mouth with my hands.

  His eyes are still laughing at me. When I’m sure he’s not going to say anything else, I remove them.

  We round a corner, and the bathhouse pool comes into view. I squeal at the sight of it and skip over, tripping only a couple of times along the way.

  I jump into the pool, then sigh when the cool water slides against my skin. I was half worried the water would be oppressively hot, but it carries the perfect chill.

  I linger underwater, my siren perfectly content to stay down here forever. It might not be the ocean, but it’s water, and that’s good enough.

  When I surface, Des sits along the edge of the pool, a knee hiked up. “I’m only letting you swim while inebriated because you’re a siren, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’re incapable of drowning. Please don’t prove me wrong.”

  “Pffft.” I swim over to him. “You should come in. The water’s nice. I’m even nicer,” I say, grabbing his hand and tugging.

  “You know, you’re unbearably adorable, cherub.”

  Awwww.

  He smiles at me.

  I think he can still hear my thoughts.

  “I can.”

  When the Bargainer doesn’t slide into the water, I release his hand and sink back beneath the pool’s surface. If he’s content to just watch me swim, then that works too.

  Oh, and neat trick—if I’m underwater, I can’t blabber every single thought that crosses my mind. In fact, I’m pretty content to just lie here, at the very bottom of the pool, until the end of time. It’s an improvement over the scorching midday heat I can’t otherwise seem to escape.

  After a minute or so, I rise to the surface once more.

  “How long are we supposed to be here?” I ask.

  It’s already evening, but just as night never lifts from Des’s kingdom, the sun never sets in the Day Kingdom.

  “Ready to leave so soon?”

  Does he sound pleased about that?

  I nod.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow morning, right after I meet with Janus.”

  So, essentially, we’ll leave three days from now, once the meeting ends.

  He leans in closer. “Have I mentioned I like your sassy mouth?”

  I swim over to him before folding my arms over the edge of the pool. I lean my cheek against them. The cold water is clearing my thoughts a bit.

  “You know a lot of secrets,” I say, looking up at him.

  The corner of the Bargainer’s mouth curves up. “I do.”

  “But you don’t know anything about the Thief of Souls.”

  “I know some things,” Des says, a pinch defensively.

  “Not that many.”

  He presses his lips together, like he’s stopping himself from arguing further. Instead, he rolls up his shirtsleeves, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of his tattoos.

  Seriously, how is this guy not taking a bath in his own sweat?

  “I don’t get it—how can you know so much about everything except for the mystery surrounding the Thief of Souls?” I ask.

  Des glances down at my folded arms. After reaching out, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin. “In order to answer that question, I’d have to tell you how I know so many secrets in the first place.”

  My brows furrow. “You bargain for them.”

  “Not…exactly,” Des says evasively.

  But I thought that was how he built a name for himself.

  “I built a name for myself through my deals and my brutality.”

  Right. That too.

  He continues to stroke the skin of my arm.

  He’s not going to tell me.

  Des’s fingers stop. He takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell you—I want to tell you. It’s just…” His eyes flick to mine. “The shadows speak to me.”

  I give him an incredulous look.

  The shadows…can talk? And Des can hear them?

  “Seriously?”

  He taps my skin. “Mm-hmm.”

  Mind officially blown.

  I mean, I knew fairies could spin cloth out of moonlight and wear stars in their hair, so this is technically nothing crazier than what I’ve already seen for myself, but still.

  “That is so fucking cool.”

  A laugh slips out of Des, and he relaxes his shoulders. Apparently, he was nervous about telling me.

  “Cherub, I’m never nervous.”

  Okay, this freaking liquor is really starting to piss me off. Hate being this transparent.

  “Tell me more,” I say.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything! I just learned shadows talk! That’s so creepy-slash-awesome. What do they sound like? Does my shadow talk? Does yours? What do they say? Do they have personalities? I could keep going.”

  Des moves a wet strand of hair from my eyes. “They sound about how you’d imagine shadows to sound—like whispers—though their voices vary just like human and fae voices do. Your shadow talks. Mine, not so much. They don’t really have distinct personalities, but they do have moods. And they say all sorts of things, provided they want to talk to you.”

  “Wow,” I say.

  I still can’t get over the fact my shadow has talked to Des.

  “She’s told me a lot over the years.”

  Oh man. Not sure that’s a good thing.

  “So shadows have genders?”

  Des looks painfully reluctant to talk about this. “It depends. Technically, they don’t; they’re just shadows, but some have more feminine or masculine voices.”

  Huh.

  “Can anyone else hear them?” I ask.

  He shifts a little. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  The Bargainer looks nervous again.

  “I’m not nervous.”

  Oh, wait. I get it. Duh. “You know I think it’s incredible that you can do this.”

  I mean, I guess normally when someone tells you they hear voices, that’s your cue to start edging away. But I’ve been around Des and the impossible world of the fae for so long that learning this isn’t some outlandish revelation.

  In fact, it explains a lot.

  “Thank you, cherub,” he says quietly, taking my hand and threading his fingers between mine.

  “What happens if the shadows don’t want to talk to you?”

  “Then they don’t talk. But there are ways to cajole them. Sometimes, if I want to know something, I give them a little magic—just enough for them to hop away from their owners for an hour or two. They hate being dragged around.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this,” he says.

  I can’t believe I got him to divulge his big bad secret.

  “And what happens if you want them to shut up?”

  “Same concept—a little magic for their silence.”

  I glance around me. There aren’t many shadows in the Day Kingdom, but they do exist even here.

  “Can you get them to talk right now?”

  Des’s eyes seem to spark with interest. His focus turns to the pool.

  After a moment, he says, “Janus’s father, Ignis, apparently used to hold orgies in this pool.”

  “Ewwww.”

  Des throws back his head and laughs. “Cherub, it’s been well over a century since that last happened.”

  His laughter warms me from the inside out.

  I tug on his hand again. “C’mon, let’s make these shadows whisper about something else.”

  He stares at me for a beat. Right when I’m expecting him to shoot me down, his shoes slide off his feet, followed by his socks. He pivots where he sits, his legs swinging around so he can dip his feet in the water.

  I step up between those legs and nip his chin, my hands sliding over his thighs.

  More, more, more…

  Des tilts his head downward. “Do you want to know a secret?”

  “Hmm?”

  He takes my lips in a kiss. “Sometimes I hold out on you simply because I enjoy driving you mad with need. It makes me feel less out of control from being in love with you.”

  “That’s not nice.”

  He laughs low. “Whoever said I was nice?”

  With that, he slips into the water, plunging beneath the surface. When he rises again, his shirt is slicked to his skin, each fold of it lovingly molding to his chest.

  There are no words. He took my breath away the first time I saw him, and it’s no different now. And he still has that devilish look to him, his features a little too sharp. He screams, Bad news. Which, of course, is like a rallying cry to my lady parts.

  His silver eyes dance.

  Still hearing every damn thought that crosses my mind.

  “What are the shadows saying now?” I whisper.

  Des closes in on me. “They’ve gone quiet.”

  “Even mine?”

  He stops in front of me, an arm sliding around my waist. “Even yours.”

  “The Thief of Souls?” I ask as a thought comes to me. “What do the shadows say about him?”

  Callie, the Killer of Moments—it really is an apt title right about now.

  The Bargainer’s good mood withers away. “The shadows won’t speak of him.”

  “Not at all?”

  Des frowns. “Not a single thing. Whoever the Thief is, he has either their allegiance…or their fear.”

  Chapter 17

  I wake on the ground, my eyes fluttering open.

  “Ah, you’re awake. I thought you’d lie there all night.”

  My claws lengthen reflexively at the sound of the Thief’s voice, my nails scraping against the stone beneath me.

  I went to bed in the Day Kingdom, and I woke…

  Here. Wherever here is.

  I sit up slowly and gaze around. The room is done in pale stone. Bloodred vines snake up the walls, strange flowers blooming from them. Across from me is a pool of some sort, the water luminous. And, to the left of it, the Thief reclines against a pillar.

  A shudder courses through me.

  “My, what a reaction.” His onyx eyes seem to glitter in this strange place. “I take it you missed me.”

  “Where am I?” I ask, rising to my feet. I can’t tell whether I’m inside or outside. Behind me, the walls seem to give way to open air, and the night sky shines down.

  But within the walls of this place, sconces burn, the sound muffled, like cloth snapping in the wind. And among it all is the Thief of Souls, his lips soft, his eyes cold, his attention fixed to me.

  This is a dream. Just a dream. But if it’s a dream, and I know it’s a dream, then—

  Wake up.

  Wake. Up.

  Nothing happens.

  “Tell me, does the term small death mean anything to you?” the Thief asks from where he leans against that pillar.

  It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

  “No,” I say, distractedly.

  It’s only after I answer that I process his words.

  Small death. That does sound familiar.

  The Thief of Souls smiles. “Come closer, and I’ll tell you.”

  “How did I get here?” I pinch the fabric of the white shift I wear. It’s all but translucent.

  Not what I went to sleep in.

  The Thief pushes off the pillar. “I called and you came.”

  I knit my brows.

  His hair and eyes are so dark, they seem to absorb the light; it’s a sharp contrast to his pale skin. He crosses the room, his steps echoing.

  He’s not real. This is not real.

  That’s the only thing that keeps me from running. I don’t need to be frightened of a phantasm. He can’t hurt me. Not here.

  The Thief steps up to me. “You didn’t run.”

  “You’re not real,” I say.

  A creepy smile spreads slowly across his face. “Is that what you think? That I’m not real?” He searches my face. Whatever he sees there makes him laugh. “You don’t believe any of this is real, do you?”

  The hairs on my forearms rise.

  Just a dream, a really screwed-up dream.

  “If none of this is real, then I guess you and I are free to do whatever we please.”

  He reaches out and runs a finger down the slope of my nose. “I could touch you. You could touch me—the Night King would never have to know. There are no repercussions for reveries after all.”

  I sidestep him. “If I touched you,” I say, my claws still out, “I doubt you would enjoy it.”

  The Thief once again steps into my space, forcing me to back up. “That’s where you’re wrong, enchantress. I have…peculiar tastes.” His eyes flick down to my throat and chest. “I’ve never been with a human. Or a siren. Or a mortal made into a fae. But I have been with women who fight back—I have a healthy appetite for that.”

  Healthy is the last word I’d use to describe the Thief’s fetishes.

  I go toe-to-toe with him. “That wasn’t the case when you were Karnon,” I say softly. “The way I remember it, you wouldn’t touch a woman unless she was incapacitated.”

  The Thief of Souls stares at me; there’s something foreign and merciless in the dark depths of his eyes. “You have me entirely figured out, don’t you?” he says. “The Thief, too frightened to fuck a woman unless she’s trapped.”