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Despite my words, he comes closer. And I’m glad he does. My fear hasn’t stopped me from wanting him. Our relationship was forged on bloodshed and solidified through deception. I am the dark creature that craves sex and destruction, and he is the king of it.

When he gets close enough, he places a hand on the back of my neck and pulls my forehead to his, not kissing me but simply holding me to him.

“Truth,” he says. “Does this change things for you?”

I feel his magic delicately wrap itself around my windpipe. His question is vague, which is so unlike him, but nonetheless, I understand what he’s asking.

“No,” I say, my voice hoarse.

Maybe it should change things for me. It feels like I’ve just conceded a little bit of my soul. But Des has been collecting pieces of my soul since the night I took my father’s life. As far as I’m concerned, he can have it; I know he’ll take good care of it.

Des’s stance doesn’t change, but I swear I feel him relax. He smells like sweat and the sweet night. My terrible king. My mysterious mate.

His thumb strokes my cheek, and for several seconds, neither of us speak.

Cruel Des. Dark Des.MyDes.

“What was that thing?” I finally ask.

“The bog?”

I nod against him.

He straightens, pulling away without letting me go. “It’s a sentient nightmare. It eats fairies alive, subjecting them to their worst fears as it digests them.”

A shudder courses through me at the thought. “That’s horrible.”

It’s his turn to nod, his face somber. “It is.”

And yet it hadn’t stopped him from unleashing it on one of his enemies. Even now he doesn’t look regretful.

He’s a fairy. What did you think you were getting yourself into when you decided to be with him?

I run my fingers through my hair, emotionally and physically exhausted. The training leathers I’ve been wearing all day are sticky and chafing in places they really shouldn’t be.

“I want to go home,” I say.

I’m tired of my wings and perpetual night. I’m tired of being surrounded by monsters and feeling powerless against them. Most of all, I’m tired of living in a world that doesn’t have Netflix.

Des’s eyes soften. “I know.”

“You haven’t offered to take me home.” This comes out more accusingly than I intended.

“You haven’t asked,” he responds as smoothly as ever.

“If I did ask for you to take me home, would you?”

The Bargainer’s jaw tightens, and for a second, I see something alien in his eyes. Something predatory and very fae.

And then it vanishes.

He nods. “I would.”

We both fall silent, and I know he’s waiting for me to ask him exactly that—to take me home. If only wanting could make something true. But I can’t leave, not as I am. If Des dutifully took me back to earth, I’d still be a human with wings and scales and claws.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask hopelessly.

Des’s mouth curves up. “You seem to have forgotten that you still owe me a great deal of favors—”