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That just the thought of your skin pressed to mine is making my knees weak.

“That you’re a sly devil,” I say instead.

His laugh echoes through the night, unfettered, abandoned. He pushes me against a nearby tree, the trunk slipping between my wings. “You’re as wild as I am, Callie. I know what you crave—what your siren craves.” He nuzzles my neck. “Let me show you.”

Between that soft touch and his seductive words, my siren surfaces, brightening my skin.

I arch into him, throwing my head back.

Yes.

This is everything I want. Him and me beneath the dark sky. Primal. Passionate.

I reach for his pants just as he reaches for my skirts, gathering them in his hands. Our hands are deft and hurried, our movements jerky. I hear my own breath hitch.

With our clothes still halfway on, that hard, delicious flesh of his presses against me.

“My mate,” he murmurs, his hair tickling my cheek as he leans into me.

There’s an urgency both to the magic that’s demanding, demanding, demanding and to our own fevered passions.

The Bargainer’s shadows blanket us, darkening our surroundings until it’s just him and me, a single point in the dark universe he rules.

His wings come around us, further shielding our bodies.

Next to the glowing skin of my hands, I see his neck muscles clench, and with a powerful shove, he enters me.

One of his hands cups my breast through the fabric of my dress, and then his head dips, his hot mouth kissing the exposed skin of my chest. My fingers dig into his shoulders.

He’s moving in and out of me, our bodies hot and wet where we’re joined. They make slick, wet noises as we come together.

“Meant…to take this slower,” Des rakes out.

It’s almost painful, the force of his thrusts. This joining isn’t something sweet. It’s wild, primal, and it calls to all my darkest corners.

I thread my fingers in his hair and force his head to the side. Minutes ago, all his white-blond hair had been elegantly swept back from his face. Now it’s fallen victim to my touch.

I tighten my grip on his hair. “I don’t wantslow,” I say, glamour entering my voice. “I want everything the King of the Night can give me—and then I want more.”

With a growl, Des gives me exactly that.

Again, and again, and again.

Chapter 23

I wake to the rustle of oak trees and the cold chill of dew on my skin. My hip bone hurts from sleeping on a hard surface, and the scent of moist earth fills my nostrils.

Where am I?

Blinking sleep away, I sit up, running my hands through my hair and pulling out several leaves and twigs. My dress still glows softly, and at my back is the tree Des and I thoroughly sullied earlier.

Des.

I glance around, but he’s nowhere in sight. I rub my temples, trying to remember through the beginnings of a hangover just how the night ended and why I’m now alone.

Off in the distance, a branch snaps.

I go still.