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The two of us spar in one of the gardens near the great cedar tree that houses our rooms. The monstrous tree looms high above us, the stairs that wind around it currently filled with Night fairies who are coming and going.

In the gardens, wisteria and roses grow along trellises, while heather and lilac grow in thick clusters beneath them. Well, that and about a billion other plants, some I recognize and some I don’t.

I stomp on a hyacinth blossom as I back away from Des.

“You sure it’s okay to be training here?” I huff. “I’m destroying the queen’s gardens.”

Des strides toward me, his sword clutched in his hand. He smirks, hopping off a rock as he stalks forward. “Don’t pretend like what you’re doing is an accident.”

All right, so I haven’t been too careful with my footwork; I might still be a smidge bitter about the proprietary way she interacts with Des.

“And no,” he adds, “the queen is quite fine with us training here, destroyed flowers and all. The only place she cares about protecting—other than her cedarwood guest houses—is her sacred oak grove.”

A.k.a. the place where I boned Des last night.

I glance over at the edge of the gardens, where part of the oak grove butts up against its outskirts. In the light of day, I can see the vast wooded forest circles the palace grounds.

Why, out of everything here, some ordinary oaks are worthy of protecting, I’ll never know.

Des swipes at me.

I yelp, hopping back to dodge the blow.

“Release your siren.” The order comes out of nowhere.

“Why?” I pant, ducking another swing of his sword.

“I’m curious about something.”

I carve my own blade upward at him, but he springs away before I can make contact.

“Leave her alone,” I say. She had a busy evening last night. Even evil bitches like my siren need their rest.

The Bargainer disappears. A moment later his breath, fans against my neck. I go rigid, remembering my dream.

“We can do this the easy way”—he slides the hair off my shoulder, his lips skimming my skin—“or the fun way.”

He doesn’t know just how effective he’s being at the moment. Nothing gets my siren stirring quite like fear and arousal, and I’m feeling a bit of both at the moment.

“I could undress you slowly and lay you out on the grass,” he breathes. “I’d spread your legs apart and give you the most sacred of kisses.”

A flush creeps up my cheeks.

His hand smooths down my torso. “I’d savor that sweet pussy of yours right until you were on the edge, but I wouldn’t give you that release,” he says. “Not until you wrapped your pretty legs around my waist and begged me to bury myself in you.”

I push away from him, my body crying out at the sudden distance between us. My siren batters against the walls of her cage, and my control on her is slipping.

“I’d take you right out here, right where anyone might find us, just as my ancestors used to do.”

Jesus, that is dirty.

He circles around to the front of me, one side of his mouth curving up. “I would want them to find us, to see me claiming you.”

Fuck it. I give up.

My siren surfaces, turned on by all his taboo suggestions.

“There she is,” he says, backing up, and I hear the glee in his voice.