Dark Harmony by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 20

It’s late the next morning by the time I tumble out of Des’s bed. The fairy is reluctant to let me go, and I’m not complaining.

A girl could get used to this kind of attention.

I stretch as I pad over to the closet, feeling the Bargainer’s eyes on me the entire time.

“Creep,” I say, not looking back.

“I’d have to be dead to not enjoy your backside.”

I suppress a smile, then begin rifling through the pretty dresses someone’s stocked an armoire full of. I’m not a girlie girl by any means, but fae outfits are one exception I’ll make. I grab a dress that looks like the dawn come to life, purples bleeding into pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows.

I’ve no more than slipped it on when the dress slips itself off.

Swiveling to Des, I raise an eyebrow. “Unless you want to break my vagina, I suggest you give it a rest.”

Relentless is a great way to describe the King of the Night’s sexual appetite. Not that I’m a slacker myself, but even I have my limits—especially when my siren decides to take the night off.

Des appears in front of me, turning my healed hands palms up.

“Are you going to read my fortune?” I tease.

He pretends to peer at them. “You find your soulmate young. There’s love—and it looks like you have a handful of kids—they take after their father, unfortunately. Brats, the entire lot of them.”

I laugh and pull my hands away.

“Oh, and you live a long and happy life.”

I don’t say anything to that. There’s so much uncertainty these days.

I pick the dress back up.

“You’re not wearing that today.”

“Why not?” The moment I ask it, my breath catches. I half expect battle leathers to come raining down from the sky and for Des to announce that, once again, the two of us are training.

Really freaking hate training.

“I could tell you—for a price—”

I groan. “Des …”

A pile of clothes does come raining down, but they’re not battle leathers.

“—or you could simply put the clothes on and deduce my plans like the good PI you are.”

I pick up the folded clothing, recognizing a faded T-shirt that I own. There’s a bra, panties, and jeans. A moment later socks and white Converses join the pile. All mine, all unfit to wear in the Otherworld.

My gaze moves to Des. “What do you have planned for us?”

“Wrong question, cherub. It’s not what I have planned, but where.”

Oh my God. My grip tightens on the clothing. “Where, Des?”

Des gives me a wry smile. “You know the answer to that question.”

I suck in a breath.

Home. Earth.

Traveling on ley lines is no longer the confusing experience it used to be. Before, I couldn’t make sense of these magical highways; my magic wasn’t compatible with it.

But now my power recognizes these strange roads that cross worlds. The magic is thick, pulling at me from all sides. It tries to drive me in its own direction, but Des holds my hands and directs me forward, cutting through the ley line’s bizarre compulsion as he leads us on.

Around me, I see landscapes fly by—hills, forests, deserts, oceans, ruins—all of it foreign and fae … until suddenly it isn’t anymore. Gradually it changes to recognizable cities and landmarks. I see Nepal, then Cairo, Berlin, then—finally—Los Angeles.

With a powerful tug, the Bargainer leads us off the ley line.

For a moment, I feel the magic resist, eager to keep us locked away on this odd highway, cursed to forever wander. But the moment passes, the magic gives, and suddenly we’re in Des’s house, in the round room that contains the ley line portal.

I take a shaky step forward, my foot sinking into the soft grass. I touch the wall of the circular room, my fingers brushing against the vines of wisteria growing up it, the plants swaying against a phantom breeze.

The Bargainer leads me out of the portal room, and it’s only then, only once I see the wood floors, the mounted pictures of faraway places, the mundane lines and details and colors of his Catalina home that I truly process it.

Earth. I’m really back on Earth.

Dear God, never have I wanted to kiss the ground so badly. If I could bear hug it, I totally would.

“Godsdamn, I missed this place,” Des says, glancing around himself.

Next to me, my soulmate looks like a memory come to life. He swaggers into his hallway wearing his leather pants, his shit-kicking boots, and a faded Rolling Stones shirt, his tattooed sleeve on display.

I’ve been so used to him wearing fae attire that seeing him in human clothes in his human home is something out of a dream.

I release Des’s hand and begin to make my way through his house. My heart aches as I take in the furniture, the photos, the decorations on display because each one screams Des—at least, Des as I first knew him, back when I’d never seen his life in the Otherworld.

I head through his living room and out the back door. Late afternoon sun hits my skin, and I close my eyes, soaking it in. I might legit cry. It’s not eternal night, it’s not endless day; it’s just your average sunny afternoon in southern California.

Opening my eyes, I continue on, towards the back of the Bargainer’s property, my attention drifting for a moment to the place where I was taken. Any fear the sight might’ve once conjured is gone, though I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s because Karnon’s dead, or because the Thief has stopped kidnapping women. Or maybe it’s not the situation that’s changed, but me.

I cross the last of the Bargainer’s backyard, stepping right up to where the land gives way to a cliff’s edge.

My skin prickles when I hear the sound of the surf crashing below. I take a deep breath, drinking in the smell of salt water.

This is where I belong.

My gaze moves to the horizon. There’s a short expanse of sea that separates my house from his. On a clear day, you can make out the edges of Malibu, and if you have imagination enough, you can draw in my home among those hills.

It’s the same sight the Bargainer must’ve stared at all our years apart. The sight fills my heart will old agony and something sweeter, like the past and the present and the future all overlay each other.

The Bargainer steps up next to me. “It’s warded, you know.”

I glance at him.

“Your house—my house too. They always have been, but after—” his voice catches, “after you were taken, I doubled down on the wards. I can’t promise that you’ll be safe here,” he says, reminding me of our earlier conversation, “but you won’t be altogether defenseless either.”

I stare at Des. The setting sun sets his features on fire. My siren stirs within me, awakening now that my magic’s refueled.

We don’t need defending, she whispers. We need defending from.

“I’m not worried.”

Des flashes me a wicked smile.

People like us are not victims, he’d once told me. We’re someone’s nightmare.

His membranous wings appear, unfolding menacingly behind him. “Ready to go home?”

I raise my eyebrows. I assumed this was our destination.

“Aw, cherub, you didn’t think I’d take you this far only to stop now, did you?”

I search his face, my heart expanding and expanding. He looks like something plucked from my most desperate dreams.

My own wings manifest behind me, punching through the material of my shirt. Des tsks at the sight, He places his hand on the clothing, and in an instant the ripped cloth stitches itself back together.

Des smooths my shirt down. When his eyes meet mine, they dance. “Ready?” he asks, backing away.

I never get the chance to answer. Des backs right off the cliff’s edge, his arms open to the world as he falls backwards. My breath catches at the sight. I should know better by now. The Bargainer has wings and magic and the uncanny ability to teleport. Falling isn’t going to do him in.

He twists in midair, his vicious-looking wings fanning out to catch the breeze.

He beckons to me. “Coming, baby siren?”

God, but he looks magnificent and otherworldly, bathed in the dying light of our sun.

My own wings spread out. I take a running leap from the cliff, and then I’m diving, gliding, soaring. I laugh as the wind buffets me upwards, catching sight of my Converse’s in the process.

Fucking flying over the Pacific.

The two of us cut across the sky, the ocean blurring by beneath us. This moment could last forever, the breeze whistling through my hair, the blue water beneath me, the fading day above me. And Des and I, two strange birds ghosting above the world.

My body is filled to the brim with simple joy.

Inevitably, we close in on land. If we had any other destination in mind, perhaps that would be a disappointment. But up ahead I catch sight of my house, and a new sort of euphoria moves in to replace the old.

Home. Sweet, lovely, lonely home.

We touch down in my backyard.

I’m back.

Never want to leave.

I really don’t. I want to drink my wine, stare out at the ocean, think deep thoughts, sleep beneath my sheets.

I want to do all that … but I want to do it with Des.

The Bargainer and I head over to my sliding glass door. Des has only to stare at the handle, and with a snick, the door unlocks itself and slides open. Tentatively, I step inside.

Home is a house filled with sandy floors, chipped counters, and now, my soulmate. He stands in my house like he resides there—like he’s always resided there—and the way he looks around, I have every reason to believe he intends to make this place ours.

Ours.

Not going to get over that.

“Where are all of our things?” he asks.

There’s that word again. Our.

I move through my (our?) home, expecting things to be different. It feels like ages since I was last here.

“In the attic.” I couldn’t bear to part with all those trinkets Des and I collected during my junior year of high school, but I also couldn’t bear to look at them. The pain of his absence always sharpened when I saw those physical reminders.

Des clicks his tongue. “Cherub, we’re going to have to change that.”

He lifts his hand, and I hear a few distant thumps, then the sound of scraping.

Less than a minute later, a weathered box floats into the living room, scattering dust motes as it heads our way. It plops to the floor a few feet in front of me.

For several seconds all is still; suddenly, the lid pops open, causing me to jolt.

And then the procession begins. The prayer flags, the Venetian masks, the painted gourd and the silks, they float out of the box one by one, lining themselves up on the floor.

Once our old memorabilia has been removed from the container, my tasteful decorations are lifted from the walls, pushed off tables, and cleared from shelves. They amble through the air, then stack themselves neatly into the box. After they’re all settled inside, the cardboard flaps fold over them, and the box levitates off the floor. It cants drunkenly back and forth as it heads back the way it came.

I raise an eyebrow but say nothing.

Des smiles, a calculating spark in his eye.

All at once, the objects the two of us collected together—every shot glass and postcard, every hand drawing and note—lift into the air. For several seconds, the items hover in midair. Then, like an explosion, they scatter across the house.

Des finds a place for it all. On walls, on shelves, tucked away in cupboards, dangling from the ceiling.

I believe this is a fairy’s version of peeing on his territory. And my heart is hurting so damned badly.

All of these things are testaments to our friendship. Because that’s what this has always been. Long before I knew Des was my mate, I knew he was my friend. And even though I wanted him in a distinctly un-friend-like way, that’s all the two of us were for the better part of a year.

I’m taking in my “new” decorations when the King of the Night comes up behind me.

He kisses the juncture where my jaw meets my neck. “We’ll go on more adventures,” Des promises, “buy more trinkets, experience more new places together—both in this world and in the other.”

I turn around. “Why did you bring me here?” I ask.

Out of all the places in all the worlds, he chose to bring me here.

Des has the universe in his eyes. “Because I love you and this is where you’re happiest.”

That’s not true. Happiness isn’t a place, it’s a person—more specifically, the one across from me.

The Bargainer leads me over to the couch. “Now, I was thinking that since we finished watching Harry Potter, we needed a new series to binge on together …”

I spend the evening wrapped up in the Bargainer’s arms, the two of us splayed out along my couch. My coffee table is a mess of greasy pizza, popcorn, and Raisinets—all casualties of our movie night.

Game of Thrones plays on the T.V., and it’s clear this is Des’s kind of show. The dude is hardcore invested.

I trail my fingers over his inked arm. I’m supposed to be paying attention to the show, but I can’t get over the joy I feel. Des is reclining here, on my couch, holding me against him as he watches a show from my living room. Earlier he ran his hands over my chipped countertops, and his boots have dragged sand across my living room. Little pieces of himself are now scattered all over the place. And he’s here, not because he wants me to repay the favors I owe, but because he’s mine.

I close my eyes and relish this. More than the Otherworld, it’s this moment that seems the dream. Everything that’s been thrown at me was so much easier to palate in a world where cities floated and night reigned eternal. But here in the normal world, a man like Des doesn’t belong, and definitely not with a girl like me.

I want to cackle for outmaneuvering fate. Because I freaking got him, the bad boy who was always so out of reach.

The two of us binge watch a couple more episodes, but somewhere along the way, the atmosphere changes.

First, it’s a few light kisses Des brushes against my hairline and a few more that I press to the base of his palm. Then it’s the soft stroke of his fingers petting my skin, and the restless way my body reacts to the touch. But it’s not until he clicks the T.V. off that I even realize the Bargainer is half as distracted as I’ve been.

“Truth or dare?” he whispers against my ear.

I bite back a smile. “Both.”

Des lifts me off the couch then, turning me in his arms so that I can wrap my legs around his narrow hips. I lock my arms behind his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

He searches my face. “Truth: Tell me, sweet little siren, how many nights did you get yourself off to the thought of me when we were apart?”

I should’ve known Des would ask something dirty. His magic settles beneath my skin, demanding I answer this embarrassing question.

“I don’t know,” I say.

Not good enough. The Bargainer’s magic is getting more demanding, twisting itself around my windpipes.

“Nearly every night.” I glare at him as I answer.

“And what did you imagine?” His magic is still there, pressing against my throat.

“What do you think I imagined?” I say sarcastically.

He just waits. His power does the rest, closing in on me.

“I already gave you one answer,” I say. He’s already getting a two-for-one deal from this game, and now he’s pressing his luck with another question.

“It’s in my nature to take advantage,” he says, running a finger down my cleavage. “Now, you were saying … ?”

I press my lips together, though I know it’s pointless. The words spill out of me anyway.

“I imagined you taking me in just about every position possible. I imagined your weight settling on me, your hips between mine. I imagined your evil-boy body fucking mine over and over and over again. I imagined it sweet and nice, I imagined it rough and kinky. I imagined you when I was alone … and when I was with other men—I even called out your name once. I imagined it all, and it still didn’t hold a flame against the reality of you.”

The Bargainer watches my mouth as I talk. Finally, he leans in and nips my lower lip. He rolls it between his teeth before releasing it.

He smiles in a distinctly masculine way, his wings appearing behind him. “You called out my name when you were with another?”

I feel myself flush. Why had I shared that?

“Cherub, I think we’re going to have to make Truth or Dare a regular part of our days.”

God no. There are so many things—things like what I just divulged—that are better left unsaid.

He walks us down the hall towards the back of the house.

“What’s my dare?” I ask.

“I think you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

We enter my bedroom, the lights flicking on.

“For seven years I yearned to enter this house of yours,” Des admits. “It ate me up, needing to know what sort of life you made for yourself here.”

My skin pebbles at his confession.

“That first night I returned to you,” he says, “you cannot know what it felt like, lounging on your bed, knowing you slept in it. My mind was a mess.”

His mind was a mess?

It was my mind that was a mess. The wicked, untouchable Bargainer was back from realms unknown, come to collect his debts and break my heart all over again. I was the bumbling school girl and he the aloof, mysterious one.

“I’ve wanted to sleep with you here,” he continues, “your body tucked against mine … Gods, how badly I wanted to insert myself into this life of yours.”

The Bargainer’s magic tugs at my clothes. One moment they’re there, and in the next, they’re a puddle on the floor.

Now I understand. This is the dare—sex wrapped up as a game.

He lays me over my sheets but doesn’t join me. Instead he stands at the foot of the bed, feasting on my naked form.

After several seconds, the Bargainer flashes me one of his scary-as-shit grins. It’s trouble in a look.

He grabs my ankles and spreads my legs wide, indecently displaying me. “I’ve had my own fantasies of you. Taking you right here, in your bed.”

Sliding his hands under my thighs, he drags me to the edge of the mattress. I feel the cool bite of his bronze war bands against my leg.

“Tonight, I’m staking claim to this bed and everything else here.” He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, his lips then dragging across my skin. “Starting with you.”