My father happened.

If that’s not foreboding, I don’t know what is.

Des stands, his wings expanding behind him. He clears his throat. “Enough of this.” He takes my hand. “There’s one more place I want to take you before we return to Somnia.”

I’m still burning to ask Des about his parents, but it’s clear from his body language that he’s done sharing secrets for the night. Perhaps for many nights.

Reluctantly I take to the sky alongside him. I have no idea where he’s taking me, but when Arestys falls away beneath us, I realize that’ll be the extent of our visit. There will be no tour of the island’s remaining highlights, no further exploration of its topography, no more discussion about Des’s life here.

It’s that last one that I want to know about most. I keep gleaning pieces of Des’s past from various sources, but it has raised more questions than it has answered.

What I know: Des was born into the Night Kingdom’s royal harem but raised on Arestys. He moved to Barbos and joined a “brotherhood,” and at some point he became medaled soldier and a king. He watched his mother die, and he blames his father.

Oh, and during all this time he was building a career for himself on earth as the Bargainer.

What I don’t know: pretty much everything else.

The wind ruffles his hair and clothes as we fly. Out here in the middle of the night sky, he looks completely at ease. I can’t tell if it’s a carefully crafted mask, or if he really did leave his agony back on Arestys. I can, however, finally see that the enigmatic Bargainer has demons of his own.

This flight is quite a bit longer than the others, and by the time we descend, my body is exhausted.

The floating island we come upon seems to be made up of glowing pools and moonlit meadows. Scattered here and there are elaborate villas and a few temples, each some distance away from one another.

Off in the distance is a shimmering city, its white walls lit up with lights. Des heads straight for it.

As we close in on it, the scattered homes begin to cluster closer and closer together, gradually changing from rural to urban. The city itself sits on the edge of the island, the white buildings built along its cliffside.

Winding through the island is a glowing river, its waters a luminescent aquamarine color. When it reaches the edge of the island, it spills over the side, the waterfall turning to mist hundreds of feet below.

We circle past the city center and follow the river upstream, doubling back towards the interior of the island.

We soar over hills, the river a glowing ribbon far below us. Soon the hills become mountains, their sides covered in dense, flowering foliage.

We only begin to descend when we come to a particularly large mountain peak. Here a palatial white stone home sits, adorned with all the Moroccan accoutrements that Des’s palace has.

Des and I circle around it, landing in its front courtyard. The only sounds around us are the soft calls of cicadas and the hiss of rushing water.

I spin around, taking in the impressive building and the mountain beyond it.

“Welcome to Lephys,” Des says, “the City of Lovers.”

He takes my hand, leading me through the home with its cathedral ceilings and tiled floors, the only light coming from the dozens of brightly colored lanterns that hang from the ceiling above us.

The edges of arched doorways are inlaid with more painted tiles, the colors emerald, indigo, and persimmon. Thick, painted columns hold the sweeping ceilings up, making the place feel even vaster than it already is.

Much as I want to drink in this place, we don’t linger inside for long. The two of us exit out the back of the home.

Out here a huge gazebo rests, its gauzy curtains blowing in the night air. Beyond the gazebo, the river we followed here glows a pale blue green.

The luminescent river cascades into the shallow pool in front of us. On the opposite end of it, the water pours off, slipping farther down the mountain.

Des releases my hand, reaching behind him to pull the back of his shirt over his head. His magic parts the material as it passes around his wing joints, reforming once more once it’s above them.

He shucks the shirt off, cutting across the gazebo and towards the water. He lifts a foot, tugging off one of those huge boots of his, and then the other.

Des looks over his shoulder. “Need any help, cherub?” he asks.

Before I can respond, I feel my own clothes loosen, magically peeling away from my body like the skin of a banana.

I let out a little yelp as they slip from my flesh, falling into a pile of rags at my feet, leaving me exquisitely bare.

Des strides over to me, the last of his clothes sliding off of him. Am I ever going to get over the sight of him in all his glory, or the way he looks at me?

He pauses when he gets to me. Then, taking my face in his hands, he kisses me deeply.

“I’ve imagined taking you here for years,” he admits when he breaks away.

“You have?” I ask.

He takes my hand, walking backwards through the gazebo and towards the river. “Many times.”

I take in the scenery with new eyes. It’s dizzying to think he imagined taking me here when I could not have imagined a place like this even existed.

His voice drops low. “Over our time apart, I’ve gotten very imaginative when it comes to you.”

Jesus. Just him saying that sends a bolt of heat through me. The way he’s looking at me doesn’t help either. He stares at me like I’m his starlight, and he’s the darkness preparing to devour me.

“Perhaps,” he backs up the water’s edge, his first foot dipping into the water, “if you play your cards right tonight, I’ll even share a few of my more creative ideas—for a price, of course.”

I’m pretty sure whatever price he asks for, I’ll be more than willing to pay.

First my toes dip into the water, then the tips of my wings. Inch by inch my naked body submerges itself into the water.

There’s something about this place, with the heavy scent of jasmine and moist earth in the air, and the intoxicating sensation of Des’s full attention on me, that has my breath hitching and my eyelids lowering. My breasts feel heavy and my core aches. Perhaps it’s this island—the City of Lovers—or perhaps it’s just the strange magic between us, but he has me fully under his thrall.

I want him to drown me in the madness of this. Us.

Des watches me the entire time, the glow of the water reflected in his eyes. It’s a strange sensation, letting someone you trust see you bare. It’s frightening and exhilarating all at once.

My eyelids flutter. The siren is calling out for me to dive deep into the pool and soak in its waters. My eyes briefly flick to the moon above us. Here, in this small glowing pool, both of our primordial natures are satisfied. I’m guessing that was no mistake on his part.

I step up to Des, our damp chests brushing. Idly, I trace the tattoos that cover his arm, the action sending a small shiver through him.

“Keep doing that, love, and I’m not going to be able to draw this evening out like I want to,” he says, his voice rough.

One glance at his face and I know he’s serious. I also know that it’s not helping my own willpower. Maybe I don’t want this drawn out. Maybe I want the King of the Night to be fast and fierce rather than slow and cruel.

Des wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest. He leans in and gives each side of my neck a kiss, his deliciously damp hair dripping against my skin.

“I could get lost in you,” he murmurs.

He wraps my legs around his narrow waist, and I feel the brush of his cock, already hard and ready. The sensation of it makes my face flush.

“What’s this?” he whispers, kissing my reddening cheeks. “Is my siren … bashful?”

I let out a husky laugh. He’s such a scoundrel, even when he’s being endearing.

He nuzzles the side of my face. “I would steal the stars from the sky for you,” he whispers into my ear. “Anything to hear you laugh like that.”

“You wouldn’t have to steal them Des,” I say. “I bet you could strike a deal with them and they’d come down for you.”

His eyes crinkle with amusement. “You give me far too much credit.”

Rather than answering, my mouth finds his, taking it roughly, my hand splayed along his cheek. Let that be answer enough.

His hold tightens on me, pulling my pelvis closer, even as his lips match my passion. He groans into my mouth, his arms tightening around my back. I move against him, my body impatient for his, my skin beginning to illuminate.

It’s been so long. Far too long. Suddenly, I don’t have a decent reason why that is. Our bodies have a lot of catching up to do.

He breaks away from the kiss long enough to lean his forehead against mine. His eyes search mine, looking for permission. I move against him once more, silently encouraging him on.

He shifts my body ever so slightly, lining us up, and then he slides into me, his head resting against mine, his eyes devouring my expression.

It’s all I can do not to moan as I feel him enter me. And yet this is so much more than just sex. It’s him and me and this place.

If I could drink him up, I would. He’s my guilty conscience, my nightmare, my mate. The man that drinks espresso out of tiny cups and sometimes wears his hair in ridiculous manbuns. The same man who likes the wild, wicked parts of me that even I’m not always comfortable with.

I roll my head back, staring up at the stars. There are thousands upon thousands of them, and their light kisses my skin. Between each one of them is unfathomable darkness. It’s all around me, inside me, making love to me.

Des pistons in and out of my core, his cock stretching me in the most exquisite way. I wrap my arms around him, pressing myself in close.

It’s no longer just the water that’s glowing. My skin is lit up, the siren thoroughly enjoying the water around us and the man inside us.

Right in the middle of the act, he moves us near the waterfall, where the rocky mountainside creates a wall of sorts. Pressing my back against it, the Bargainer takes my wrists and forces them against the rocky surface.

“Truth or dare?” he rasps, still thrusting in and out of me.

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.