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“Let me see that pretty wrist,” Des coaxes.

I don’t have time to react before his magic wraps around my arm, lifting it. He steps in close, inspecting the remaining rows of beads.

His eyes move from my bracelet to my face. “Several weeks ago you mentioned you wanted to see my kingdom,” he says. “Were you being serious?”

First he comments about me reading up on his kingdom, now this?

I bite the inside of my lip, not sure where he’s going with this line of questioning. Eventually I nod. I meant it; I do want to know everything there is to know about this man, including the kingdom he rules.

“Good.” He looks all too pleased. “Then you and I are going on a little trip—”

Should I be worried? A trip doesn’t sound too bad.

“—and we’ll be flying there. Together.”

Chapter 9

I glare at Des for the millionth time as we step out onto the highest balcony of his castle, rubbing my arms against the slight chill. Right now, we’re out at the witching hour, stealing away in the night like criminals.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

Fly.

Back on earth, flying means boarding a plane. Here it means flapping your wings, which—shocker—I’m not too thrilled about. I mean, even birds can screw up this flying business, and I am no bird.

I glance down at my bracelet, where two beads are missing, the price Des paid for taking me on this trip.

Two. Beads.

He catches me glaring at my bracelet and, capturing my jaw, steals a kiss that definitely wasn’t his to take. “Cheer up, love,” he says. “This will be fun.”

Fun, my ass. The only thing remotely pleasant about this experience is that Des is wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, his tattoos are on full display, and his leather pants are hugging the shit out of his backside.

I mean, I can be mad at him and still enjoy the view.

Over his shoulders, his wings expand, taking up a staggering expanse of the balcony on either side of him. They shimmer in the moonlight, his curved talons gleaming along their edges.

“Stretch your wings,” he commands.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” I say, even as I comply.

The sensation of them unfolding is both uncomfortably foreign and inexplicably satisfying—like taking off a bra at the end of the day. Since my wings appeared, I’ve kept them closely pressed to my back. I didn’t realize until now how good stretching them would feel.

“I’m aware of that,” Des says, his voice a silken caress.

He disappears. Before I can so much as swing around to look for him, his warm hand runs over the upper ridge of my wings. He strokes them the same way he strokes the rest of my flesh, the touch oddly erotic.

“They’re breathtaking, you know,” he says, his fingers skimming over my feathers. “Just one more tempting thing about my enchantress.”

“Enchantress?” The question slips out before I remind myself he’s supposed to be receiving my ire right now.

“That’s what fairies have started to call you—an enchantress.”

I can’t decide whether I’m more flattered or flustered by this detail.

“We don’t have sirens here in the Otherworld,” Des continues, “but from time to time, we do have magical beings—enchanters—who can enthrall others with their magic. It’s a very coveted power.”

He circles back in front of me, his gaze moving to my wings. “Try beating them.”