Less than a year ago
By the time Callie arrives at her house, I’ve thoroughly made myself at home. I raided her kitchen, smirking when I came across a secret stash of sweets—because who the hell is she hiding her sweets from?—and frowning when I came across her secret stash of half-drunk spirits. Those I know she must hide from herself, only taking them out when she’s too weak or beaten down to resist.
After throwing together a meal for myself, I flipped through her Netflix account. By all appearances she still likes book-to-movie adaptations, and she also watches a good dose of comedy shows.
Now I recline on her bed, gazing at the moon, which rises over the Pacific. The sight stirs some old yearning in me, something both nostalgic and dully painful. Maybe it’s the sight of that moon so close to the water—so close and yet still out of reach. It reminds me of Nyxos and Fierion, the gods of night and day; the star-crossed lovers always seeking one another, always kept apart.
But the thrill of being back in her life is too heady for me to get sad at the rising moon. I bathe in the shadows that slip through Callie’s windows, closing my eyes while I wait.
Eventually, I hear the front door creak open, then the soft sound of footfalls. It takes my mate entirely too long to make her way back to her bedroom, where I lounge on her mattress.
It’s taking all of my concentration to keep my wings and my eagerness in check.
Callie steps into the doorway, her body cast in shadows.
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.
Can’t be real.
Not that dark hair that falls in waves down her body, not that face, which was created to break men’s hearts and bend their wills. My gaze moves to her flesh, encased in only the wispiest lingerie.
She’s a vision made to haunt me.
Before I can help it, my wings manifest beneath me, flaring open. I’m the teenager and she’s the unattainable woman.
How ironic the Fates are.
My wings are out only for the briefest of moments, but the movement startles her. I hear her swift intake of air, and then a moment later, she flicks on the bedroom lights.
Fuck me good, nothing has ever looked so godsdamned appealing as Callie in lingerie. She looked mesmerizing in the shadows; she’s a vision in the soft light of her room.
All signs of the girl she once was are now gone. Teenage Callie has been replaced by this creature, with her womanly curves and devastating face.
Time to scheme, Desmond. It’s going to take more than sheer ardor to conquer my mate’s heart.
Callie stares at me, shocked. No, not shocked—thunderstruck. I catch a peak of unsure, teenage Callie in the look.
There’s my girl.
I flick my gaze over her. “You’ve upgraded your lingerie since I last saw you.”
Going to dream about this later.
There’s a long pause; Callie appears to be collecting herself.
“Hello, Desmond Flynn,” she finally says, deliberately using my full name. She might as well have reached between my legs and squeezed my balls.
A slow grin parts my lips. Feisty thing. “I didn’t realize you wanted to spill secrets tonight, Callypso Lillis.”
My eyes return to her flesh. I can’t keep myself from looking at her, all of her.
Take. Claim. Keep.
She cuts across her bedroom, grabbing a robe from her closet.
“What do you want, Des?” she asks from where she ties the robe. Her voice is somehow annoyed, bored, and exasperated all at once. There’s a name for this.
Apathy.
For one split second the sky feels like it’s crashing down around me.
She’s moved on entirely.
But then I notice how her hands tremble.
Relief washes through me.
She’s shaken by this too. My luck hasn’t entirely run out then.
Like a predator, I pounce on her vulnerability.
I materialize behind her in an instant, bending to her ear. “Demanding as always, I see.” I smile a little when she yelps in surprise, turning to face me. “Odd character flaw of yours, considering how much you owe me.”
My magic slips into my voice, promising her all those forbidden things that her insatiable siren craves.
I will give each and every one of them to you siren, night after night, so long as you’re mine.
Those deep, fathomless eyes of hers search my face. I forgot what it felt like to be seen by them. Seven years has made them sadder, lonelier, but no less piercing.
She believes I abandoned her. Clear as starlight I read it on her face.
In that instant, I come as close as I ever have to freely giving up information. Only centuries of restraint hold my tongue. Telling Callie the truth doesn’t buy me love. She’s had years to resent me; a few short sentences aren’t going to just fix that.
I’m going to have to make her fall in love with me, all over again.
I take her hand and push up the sleeve of her robe. Row after row of my beads twist up her forearm. A primal sort of pleasure stirs in me at the sight.
“My bracelet still looks good on you, cherub.”
I can ask anything of her, anything at all, and she must oblige me. I could ask her to live with me, to marry me, to bed me, to bear my children.
It’s not enough. Not nearly. I want her love, her thoughts, her passion—and I want it to be given freely. Always freely. Nothing less will do.
But she doesn’t know this.
“Callie, you owe me a lot of favors.”
You’re mine. You don’t know it yet, love, but you are.
She meets my gaze, and I feel the weight of her dawning realization. A part of her understands this is the end—and it’s the beginning. “You’re finally here to collect.”