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Des and I circle around it before landing in its front courtyard. The only sounds around us are the soft calls of cicadas and the hiss of rushing water. I spin, taking in the impressive building and the mountain beyond it.

“Welcome to Lephys,” Des says, “the City of Lovers.”

He takes my hand, leading me through the home with its cathedral ceilings and tiled floors, the only light coming from the dozens of brightly colored lanterns that hang from the ceiling above us.

The edges of arched doorways are inlaid with more painted tiles, the colors emerald, indigo, and persimmon. Thick painted columns hold up the sweeping ceilings, making the place feel even vaster than it already is.

Much as I want to drink in this place, we don’t linger inside for long. The two of us exit from the back of the home.

Out here rests a huge gazebo, its gauzy curtains blowing in the night air. Beyond the gazebo, the river we followed here glows a pale blue green.

The luminescent river cascades into the shallow pool in front of us. On the opposite end of it, the water pours off, slipping farther down the mountain.

Des releases my hand before reaching behind him to pull the back of his shirt over his head. His magic parts the material as it passes around his wing joints, reforming once more when it’s above them.

He shucks the shirt, cutting across the gazebo and toward the water. He lifts a foot, tugging off one of those huge boots of his and then the other.

Des looks over his shoulder. “Need any help, cherub?” he asks.

Before I can respond, my own clothes loosen, magically peeling away from my body like the skin of a banana.

I let out a little yelp as they slip from me and fall into a pile of rags at my feet, leaving me exquisitely bare.

Des strides back to me, the last of his clothes sliding off him. Am I ever going to get over the sight of him in all his glory or the way he looks at me?

He pauses, then takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply.

“I’ve imagined bringing you here for years,” he admits when he breaks away.

“You have?” I ask.

He clasps my hand, walking backward through the gazebo and toward the river. “Many times.”

I take in the scenery with new eyes. It’s dizzying to think he imagined bringing me here when I could not have imagined a place like this even existed.

His voice drops low. “Over our time apart, I’ve gottenveryimaginative when it comes to you.”

Jesus. Just him saying that sends a bolt of heat through me. The way he’s looking at me doesn’t help either. He stares at me like I’m his starlight and he’s the darkness preparing to devour me.

“Perhaps”—he backs up to the water’s edge, his first foot dipping into the water—“if you play your cards right tonight, I’ll even share a few of my more creative ideas—for a price, of course.”

I’m pretty sure whatever price he asks for, I’ll be more than willing to pay.

First my toes dip into the water, then the tips of my wings do. Inch by inch, my naked body submerges into the water.

There’s something about this place, with the heavy scent of jasmine and moist earth in the air, and the intoxicating sensation of Des’s full attention on me that has my breath hitching and my eyelids lowering. My breasts feel heavy, and my core aches. Perhaps it’s this island—the City of Lovers—or perhaps it’s just the strange magic between us, but he has me fully under his thrall.

I want him to drown me in the madness of this. Us.

Des watches me the entire time, the glow of the water reflected in his eyes. It’s a strange sensation, letting someone you trust see you bare. It’s frightening and exhilarating all at once.

My eyelids flutter. The siren is calling out for me to dive deep into the pool and soak in its waters. My eyes briefly flick to the moon above us. Here, in this small glowing pool, our primordial natures are satisfied—mine and Des’s. I’m guessing that was no mistake on his part.

I step up to Des, our damp chests brushing. Idly, I trace the tattoos that cover his arm, the action sending a small shiver through him.

“Keep doing that, love, and I’m not going to be able to draw this evening out like I want to,” he says, his voice rough.

One glance at his face lets me know he’s serious. I also know it’s not helping my own willpower. Maybe I don’t want this drawn out. Maybe I want the King of the Night to be fast and fierce rather than slow and exquisitely cruel.