Dark Harmony by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 19

I lean forward, even as the pixies on my shoulders begin playing in my hair. (Seriously, what is with these creatures and my hair?)

“Where is he?”

The Night King’s face is menacing. “Memnos.” He says the word like it tastes bad coming out.

Memnos, the one island Des never took me to. The Land of Nightmares.

“Wait,” I say, glancing at the pixie. “How does Aura—” She curtsies at the mention of her name, and I nod to her. “How does Aura know this?”

The little pixies all begin chattering at once.

“Pixies are my royal messengers,” Des says.

One of the pixies playing in my hair stops and says something else, her little voice demanding.

The Bargainer raises his eyebrows. “Forgive me—pixies are royal messengers and spies.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That sounds like an important job.”

My words must’ve been the right ones because the pixies start to excitedly chitter. One of them flits in front of my face and studies my features before lovingly patting my cheek.

Another one starts speaking animatedly to Des.

“I’m not going to go to Memnos or Barbos right now. You can tell Malaki he’ll just have to wait.”

Angry chittering.

“My mate is tired.”

Another pixie comes over and begins to inspect my eyes, as though looking for signs of my sleepiness.

The other pixie, meanwhile, is still arguing with Des. Eventually, she simply grabs Des’s pointer finger and tugs, trying to rally him into action. It’s an adorably pitiful sight. I’m pretty sure my mate shares the sentiment because the corner of his mouth lifts.

“Where does she want us to go?”

“To Memnos to slaughter the hateful tyrant Galleghar Nyx, but short of that, Malaki has requested our presence in Barbos.”

I really am tired, both from healing my wounds and from the long days we’ve endured, and I’ve been dreaming of Des’s bed for ages and ages. But there are two psychotic fae on the loose, and the sooner we deal with them, the sooner Des and I can get on with our lives.

I stand, causing the pixies hanging onto me to squeal. “Then let’s go.”

Des stares up at me, unconcerned that a pixie is still pulling at his finger. “Cherub, you need to rest.”

“I’ll rest eventually.”

The Bargainer’s eyes narrow. He stands, his chair scraping back. He steps in close, his large frame filling my vision. “You don’t want to go to Barbos,” he says. “You want a break from this madness, and I want to give that to you.” His eyes have gone soft. They search my face, like my unspoken thoughts are written there.

“Des, if we wait, your father might slip away. I am tired, but I’ll rest soon enough.” I take Des’s hand in my bandaged ones. “If we catch your father, he might be able to tell us where the Thief of Souls is.”

A muscle in the Night King’s jaw ticks. So tempting, his features seem to say. He glances away from me.

I give his hand a squeeze. “Let’s end this.”

His hand has started to tremble again. All that pent up rage is fighting for release, and Des is a dark enough creature that he can’t deny it forever. Better to use it on his father.

Finally, he closes his eyes and nods. “We’ll go to Barbos. And we’ll deal with Galleghar Nyx.”

Des and I soar through the clouds, the stars twinkling down on us.

God, have I missed this. There’s no other sensation quite like flying.

The pixies spin around us, laughing as they ride on the wind. Des and I are a touch more somber, the two of us outfitted for battle.

These are, after all, violent times.

I ignore the exhaustion creeping through my bones; I’m pretty sure that, like a noob, I spent too much energy trying to heal my burns, and now I’m paying the piper for it.

Can’t believe how much energy that took. I’ve never actually experienced a deficit of magic. Ever. Yet healing two small burns has nearly tapped me of it.

No wonder iron is so hated and feared among the fae. It’s painful and magically draining.

My heart bleeds all over again for those soldiers Karnon kept prisoner; they were shackled in the stuff.

Seriously though, fuck the Thief and all his sick deeds.

I can almost hear his laughter in my head.

This is our little game …

Only he would think of all these depravities as some sort of game.

The longer I think on it, the more my mind twists and turns, leading me back to that last strange dream.

Does the term small death mean anything to you? he asked me. It was the one question that seemed to be more than just posturing and scare tactics.

And of course, now that I’m level-headed, the term does mean something to me. I’ve heard it all over the place. Somnia is the Land of Sleep and Small Death, Des used to be a member of the Angels of Small Death. And in another dream back in the Flora Kingdom, Galleghar Nyx had mentioned small death.

Now that I look for it, it’s everywhere.

I move in close to Des.

“What’s small death?” I ask, shouting to be heard over the gusty air.

I’ve never actually stopped to ask what the term means.

“Sleep,” Des says, his voice amplified by his magic.

I think he’s misheard me, but then he adds, “Fae consider the loss of consciousness—fainting, sleep, and so on—to be a brief taste of death. The individual is caught between worlds, and so we call this small death.”

Huh. I guess that’s kind of cool. Unhelpful, but cool.

“Why do you ask?”

I glance over at Des. His eyes are too keen.

Though he knows I’ve had nightmares about the Thief, I haven’t told him the specifics about my most recent dreams.

I open my mouth to explain when a dark object manifests ahead of us. I catch a blur of white hair, hear the shrill cries of the pixies as they scatter, and then, next thing I know, the fae has me by the throat.

I grab the fairy’s wrist, trying to pry their hand from my neck when I catch sight of the beautiful fae.

Those eyes … just like his son’s.

Galleghar Nyx grimaces at me, squeezing tighter, his upper lip curling in disgust. “I could snap your neck right now and be done with it, slave.”

I drop a bandaged hand from his wrist, groping along my waist for one of my daggers.

“To think you’ve been walking the halls of my palace—”

My hand wraps around the hilt of my blade.

Gotcha.

“—eating from my table—”

I unsheathe it.

“—sleeping in—”

I slam the dagger into his side, the blade sinking to its hilt.

Galleghar howls, his hold loosening long enough for me to suck in a grateful breath. I yank my weapon from his side.

“Bitch!” He cocks his fist just as an ominous form appears over his shoulders.

The Bargainer leans in close to his father’s ear, his hands gripping Galleghar’s wings. “I was hoping to run into you.” With that, he snaps his father’s wings, the bones making a sickening crack as they break.

Now Galleghar begins to scream in earnest. He releases my throat as Des pulls back his fist and slams it into his father’s head again, and again, and again. I can feel my mate unleashing his wrath as the two men begin to plummet from the sky.

Galleghar disappears, winking into existence in front of me again. The Bargainer follows suit, his wings flared menacingly at his back. But just as soon as Des closes in on him, Galleghar vanishes once more.

It’s that night in Mara’s oak forest all over again, Des and his father bleeding away into the darkness only to reform in another location. The tyrant king is having trouble though, his mangled wings bent grotesquely behind him.

Galleghar’s form disappears yet again, only this time, I don’t see him reform—I feel him. His hands brace either side of my head.

He’s going to snap my neck. I can sense his intent in his very grip, even as gravity begins to drag the two of us towards earth.

Frantically, I call on my siren. If I ever needed my glamour, it would be now.

She rises slowly, like she’s moving through molasses. My skin begins to glow … only to dim. My siren retreats, my magic too exhausted to summon her.

I jerk in Galleghar’s grip, trying to use my wings to shake him. But then Des is there, and then Galleghar isn’t, and the whole thing happens so terribly fast that I get whiplash.

I tumble through the sky, trying to right myself. The universe and all the stars in it spin around me as I fall through the sky.

And then there again is Galleghar, hand at my throat. I slash at him with the dagger in my hand, the blade catching him in the arm. Before he can retaliate, the Bargainer manifests between the two of us, his position forcing his father to release my neck. In his own hand Des grips the sword he carries.

With one swift thrust, Des shoves his weapon into his father’s gut. Galleghar’s eyes go wide as his son jerks it back out of his abdomen. That’s the last I see of the tyrant king as I continue to fall, a cloud swallowing me up.

I desperately try to spread my wings, fighting against wind and gravity. Before I can right myself, Des manifests next to me, scooping my body up in midair.

“We need to get back to Somnia. Now.”

The flight back is nothing like the previous one. Des won’t release me, despite the fact that I’m fine—even if my throat is a little sore. He flies at a punishing pace, the wind howling in our ears as we speed across the sky.

“Where’s Galleghar?” I ask.

“Hidden back in whatever shithole he crawled out of.”

I was wrong about Des needing to release his rage. I don’t think pummeling his father helped at all. If anything, he seems more tightly wound.

“So he’s still alive.”

The King of the Night’s nod is barely perceptible.

Damn. Galleghar must be hurting—two broken wings and a couple of gut wounds. Not to mention the punches to the head he sustained.

The Bargainer flies us directly to his chambers, landing silently on his balcony. He sets me on my feet, his wings flaring wide around me, as if to shield me from the world. Des steps into my space, his face impassive. But more than ever, I can sense his tumultuous emotions, from the agitated arc of his wings to his rigid line of his shoulders.

His eyes drop to my lips, and that’s the only warning I get. Reeling me in, he takes my mouth savagely.

His lips are fire, burning against mine.

Take. Claim. Keep.

Maybe he murmurs this, maybe I sense it from our connection, but those three words seem to be the driving force behind his manic energy.

I can feel his wrath and his panic, his frustration and fear all tied up into the slide of his mouth against mine.

I return it with equal intensity. I might be capable of living for centuries, but I can still die like a human can. I felt it there for a moment, when Galleghar was squeezing the life out of me, and again when I was falling. Just because fae call themselves immortal doesn’t mean they are.

I part Des’s lips with my own, tasting his essence as my fingers delve into his soft hair.

Behind me, I hear his balcony doors snick open. He lifts me again, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“I need to be inside you,” he says hoarsely.

I nod against him, my mouth going to his again. Nothing like a brush with death to make you feel amorous. I need to feel alive, and I think Des does too.

The Bargainer steps inside, the doors clicking shut behind him. Not a moment later, my clothes melt off of me, magically removing themselves. Des’s clothes follow suit as he moves us to the bed.

He’s barely laid me on the bed and parted my thighs, when he pulls me to him, thrusting deep inside me.

I gasp as his thick cock stretches me, the sensation a pinch of pain then pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. I revel in the feel of his muscular body pressing down on mine.

“Gods above, cherub.” Des kisses the juncture between my neck and shoulder as he slides out. He pistons in again.

I lean my head back and moan as he fills me, stretches me. He’s need, need, need. I can practically hear him—

Take … Claim … Keep.

The phrase echoes like a memory through my head.

“This—this won’t be gentle,” he warns, his entire body trembling as he dams up his wicked need.

I grasp his hair, my grip tightening as I tilt his head towards mine.

“Your warnings are wasted on me.” My fingers flex against him. “You’re not fucking some delicate flower. You’re fucking me.”

A siren.

The King of the Night, who rules over sleep and sex, unleashes.

He slams into me again and again, gathering me up in his arms, his gaze drinking me in. It’s the oddest combo of male aggression and devoted adoration.

His pace is punishing, and his strokes are deep, and I can’t keep eye contact because, Jesus, my body is pure sensation, and I need to stop looking at him or I’m going to get an award for the world’s fastest climax.

Des moves one of my legs over his shoulder, deepening his angle. I grip the blankets I lay on uselessly, my breasts bobbing from the force of each thrust.

He touches my dim skin. “This is a first.”

We’re knee deep in each other, and my siren hasn’t stirred, my magic still replenishing. It’s a strange sensation, not having the siren share this experience with me. I feel naked in a whole new way.

The Bargainer takes one of my bandaged hands, threading his fingers through mine. His lips skim over my forehead, then my nose, then my lips, chin, throat. There they pause—he pauses, his entire body drawn tight.

He kisses a trail across my neck, right where I’m sure bruises in the shape of his father’s hand have appeared.

“My beautiful nightmare,” Des whispers against my skin. “My beautiful, beautiful nightmare.”

With that, the Bargainer thrusts into me again. I hiss out a breath as his pace picks up, his sweat-slicked chest gliding over mine again and again. I’m being lit up from the inside out. It feels like there’s no place he hasn’t touched. We’re wrapped up in each other, our bodies entwined, our hearts magically bound up.

Des grips my hand tightly, as though he’s afraid to let me go. “Look at me, Callie,” he commands.

“Going to come if I do that.”

He dips in close to kiss my cheek, all the while rocking in and out of me. “Last I heard, that’s kind of the point. Now, look at me.”

I turn my gaze to his. Never has he looked so breathtaking, never has he looked so fae—like the moon come to life. His silver eyes glitter, his white hair dangling loose between us.

And it’s that, not each aggressive stroke, that sets me off. I’m right there on the edge in an instant … and then I break.

Des sees the moment I climax, flashing me a wolfish smile. My gaze begins to drift as my orgasm lashes through me. I’m shattering to bits.

“Don’t look away,” Des orders.

I drag my gaze back to him. How to tell him it’s all too much?

Des leans in, stealing a kiss from my lips as his strokes become more frantic. I catch his groan on my tongue as he gives into his own need, his hips pumping furiously as he comes.

Take—claim—keep.

I hear the phantom words one final time, and then it’s over.

“It was an ambush.”

Des strokes my sweaty skin, holding me close. I’m sore in all the right places—and in a couple wrong ones too. My throat, for instance, is starting to hurt like a bitch.

“Somehow, Galleghar knew where we were, and he intercepted us before we had a chance to locate him.”

Around us, the myriad of lamps burn away, casting the Night King’s chambers in low, flickering light. A pleasant breeze drifts through the pane-less windows. As far as nights go, this one’s absolutely perfect—recent fight notwithstanding.

Des brushes a strand of my hair away from my face. “My father was going after you because we’re mated.”

I prop myself up, my gaze going to Des’s sinful mouth. My thoughts drift for a moment to all the things I want those lips to do to me. Things besides talking.

Already, the attack seems like a dream. It happened so fast, and then it was over. And now … well, here I am wrapped up in silk sheets and a muscle-y fairy.

The Bargainer’s eyes drop to my neck. He reaches for it with his tatted arm, his fingers trailing over the bruises that are surely there.

It’s not over for him.

His hand moves from my neck, sliding over the curve of my hip. “For most mated pairs, the death of one fairy means the death of both. In some cases, like Mara’s, a fairy can outlive the other, but that’s surprisingly rare. Most of the time if you kill one, you kill both.” The Bargainer’s eyes rise to mine. “Galleghar attacked you because he rightfully believes ending you will end me.”

My heart begins to pound a little faster. “Rightfully?”

Des’s fingers squeeze my hip, his eyes looking feverish for a moment. “No part of me has any intention of outliving you.”

That’s a bucket of ice water to the face.

I don’t want to talk about this. About my death—or his. We’re very much alive at the moment, and I don’t really want to dwell on the alternative.

“He’s going to come after you again,” the Bargainer continues. “The idiot actually believes you’re an easier target.” The thought brings a shadow of a smile to Des’s lips for a moment.

Galleghar is going to come after you again.

Suddenly, every dark corner of the room seems like it hides monsters. What’s to stop Des’s father from intruding on us right here, right now?

The Night King must know where my thoughts are because he says, “You’re protected within the royal grounds—there are enchantments to keep out fairies like him,” Des says. “That’s likely why he ambushed us en route to Barbos.”

Because there weren’t enchantments along our flight path.

“So I’m stuck here.” My stomach sours at the thought.

Des wraps his arm around my back, pulling me in close. “You’re not stuck anywhere, cherub,” he says, deadly serious. “Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there right now.”

My brows furrow. “You’re not going to try to keep me here?”

I don’t touch on the fact that right now I don’t really want to move an inch from this bed, content to spend the rest of my long life wrapped up in the King of the Night’s arms.

“I will never keep you captive,” Des vows. “Better you happy and free, than caged and safe. Besides—” he leans his forehead against mine, “Galleghar clearly hasn’t heard the stories about you if he thinks to target you.”

“There are stories about me?” That’s news.

Des’s eyes crinkle, his lips pressing together. “Many. What fae can resist a story about the beautiful human who beguiles fairies and escapes the Thief? They can’t get enough of you. Unfortunately, my father and the Thief seem to share that sentiment.”

I lift a bandaged hand and stare at Des’s work. “I should’ve listened to you,” I say thoughtfully. I drop my hand. “Back when you told me to rest.”

“I happen to have great ideas,” he agrees, his mouth curving fiendishly. His expression sobers. “But you made the decision a queen would, putting the kingdom’s needs before your own.”

“Stop using that word.” Queen.

“It’s going to happen, one day or other, Queen Callypso.”

Okay, I’ll admit, that has a nice ring to it.

“What do you have against queens, anyway?” Des asks.

I sigh. “I just want to be a normal girl with a normal job who lives a normal life.” I don’t want to have to worry about an entire kingdom.

The Bargainer rolls us so that he can stare down at me. “Callie, you’ve never been a normal girl, and you’ve never lived a normal life, so I can see the appeal of wanting that. But normal is overrated. Trust me, it’s overrated. I’ve made deals with thousands of miserable, normal people.”

I frown up at him.

“And I’m sorry,” he continues, “but if you think I’m going to let you settle for normal, you’ve got a fight on your hands.”

Damnit. Now that he’s drawn lines, I’ll never get him to budge. If there’s one thing Des is good at, it’s fighting. Oh, and deals. And secrets. And sex.

Screw it all, he’s good at everything. It’s annoying.

“This is just like high school,” I say, remembering those days he roused or manipulated or bargained me into action. Mean, but effective. “You trying to get me to do something you believe is in my best interest.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, cherub. Tell me I’m pushy and bossy and that I don’t know a thing about your deepest dreams.”

See, that’s the rub of it all; now that I know he can hear shadows, he probably has heard all sorts of things about my dreams that I won’t willingly admit. Things that prove him right.

“You’re pushy and you’re bossy,” I say.

He leans in and places a kiss along my sternum. “And I don’t know a thing about your dreams—say it.”

I feel the breath of his magic wrapping around my wind pipe. Only this time, it’s trying to pry the truth out of me, and the truth is that the Bargainer knows a great deal about my deepest desires.

He moves down my body, placing a kiss between my breasts. “I’m still waiting, love.”

Des keeps moving down my body, pressing kisses against my skin.

But I stay silent, and eventually his magic dissolves away.

The Bargainer pauses, glancing up at me. “I love you, Callie, down to every last feather and scale. I love your darkness, I love your mind, I love your humor and your most coveted dreams. And I love how you love me—wholly, deeply, passionately.

“You’re not normal; you’ll never be normal. I’m so sorry to tell you that. You are so blindingly extraordinary that it physically hurts me sometimes, and I’ll never stop pushing you to believe this.”

Des can’t just say things like that. My weak heart isn’t fit enough to take it.

I close my eyes and draw in a shaky breath. “Give it back.”

“What is it I’ve taken, cherub?”

My peace of mind, my loneliness, my torment. My pain, my sanity, my dull little life.

So many things that once made me me are now missing, and—

“Des, I don’t know who I am.”

“You don’t know who you are?” The Bargainer’s voice drops low. “You’re Callypso Lillis, plain and simple. You were her yesterday, you’ll be her tomorrow. It’s up to you to decide what being you actually means. No one else can do that for you. Not the man who gave you those wings, not the man who’s hunting you. Not your stepfather. Not even me.

“But whatever you choose to be, cherub, make it count.”