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The fairy lets out a cackling laugh. “Aye, you still might. My arse is too ancient to leave this seat.”

“But not too ancient to get you here,” Des notes.

The fairy cackles again, his friends joining in.

I can tell Des wants to go talk to what appears to be yet another friend, so I bump him with my shoulder. “Go.” I nod to the laughing fairy.

Des hesitates, and then decision made, he stands, grabbing his drink. “I’ll just be a minute,” he promises.

I watch him as he saunters away before kicking out a spare chair next to the fairy and straddling it backward.

“What have you done to my friend?” Phaedron asks.

I give him a quizzical look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Phaedron shakes his head. “He waited until you gave him permission before he got up to talk. And since you two entered, there have been at least two different opportunities Desmond could’ve—would’ve—bargained something away from you if he wanted to.”

I furrow my brows. “He’s known for making bargains here too? In the Otherworld?”

“Oh, aye. Does it the fooking time. Well, less now—because he’s king. But back when he still lived here, he could rob the green from grass, he was that good.”

I know just how good Des can be.

“I think he already has plenty of leverage over me.” I hold up my wrist, showing Phaedron the rows and rows of my black beads. “Each one of these represents a favor I owe Des.”

He squints at the bracelet. “Sothat’show he caught you. Sly devil.”

I lean forward, laying my hands flat on the table. “That’s howIcaughthim,” I correct.

Phaedron barks out a laugh. “Desmond is more of a scoundrel than I give him credit for if he let you believe that. No way in hell he’d let so many favors go unpaid unless he planned on keeping you—either with your consent or against your will.”

Against my will?

My thoughts must be written on my face because Phaedron explains, “You must not know much about our kind. No fairy would let his mate get away just because she put up a little protest.”

That’s more than a little horrifying.

“Des isn’t like that.”

Phaedron snorts. “The King of the Night?” Our eyes move to where Des sits, laughing and slapping the back of some fae with several tattoos on his face. “He’s the worst of them.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say. There have been a few times where Des’s fae side got the better of him, but he always snapped out of it, and always for my sake.

Phaedron eyes me up and down. “Maybe you just haven’t resisted him enough to push him to the edge.”

That shuts me up. I never was one for playing hard to get when it came to the Bargainer. It had always been Des for me, and he and I both knew that.

“Trust me,” Phaedron continues, “the man is desperate for you. He might not say it, but…” His eyes return to Des, whose own gaze has inadvertently found mine. The Bargainer gives me a wink when he notices me staring. “Put up some true resistance,” Phaedron says, “and you’ll see. He won’t let you go.”

How is it that one sentence can fill you both with such satisfaction and such dread? More than anything, I love the idea that Des wants to be mine every bit as much as I want to be his. But to think he’d force me to stay at his side—that part of him would cast aside my own wants and needs—that’s frightening.

That’snotDes. It’s not. But I decide I don’t want to argue Phaedron on this point all evening.

“How do you and Des know each other?” I ask, changing the subject.

Phaedron takes a swig of his mead before responding. “He joined the Angels of Small Death when I was its leader.”

My eyebrows hike up. It’s not like I’m surprised Phaedron was the leader of a gang or that Des became close with him. I think I’m most surprised about the fact Des, a fae king, and I are here in this bar on Barbos, hanging out with Phaedron, who is probably a career criminal.