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“You drew on my magic,” Des says absently. “I was worried. What is that?”

My heart hammers at his question.

I bite my lip, but it doesn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“It’s your ring.” I take a deep breath. “Marry me, Des. Tonight. Right now.”

He stares at the ring for several more seconds. Slowly, his moonlit eyes rise to mine, the silvery threads of them luminescent.

His hand closes around the ring, his other hand wrapping around my wrist like a manacle—as though I and my offer might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough.

He looks … very fae. Very,veryfae. His features seem to have sharpened, and the look on his face is rapacious.

“Are you serious, Callie?” The words are careful and clipped, like he’s holding back a great deal of hope.

I nod, not daring to speak. The last of my courage slipped out with my words.

His hold on my wrist tightens, and then his wings manifest.

Chapter 27

I can’t getover the sight of him in all his glory—right in the middle of Venice, no less.

He looks at me like he’s dying, like this is agony, but then he smiles, and the sight is staggering.

His free hand threads its way into my hair, and then he’s pulling me forward and his mouth is suddenly hard against mine.

He kisses me like a man possessed, his lips laying claim to mine. I can taste his magic on his tongue, like the night itself has a flavor.

Even after the kiss ends, the Bargainer keeps me close, his hand clasped behind my neck, his forehead pressed to mine.

“I would love nothing more, Callie, than to marry the shit out of you.” He tilts my head so he can whisper into my ear. “You cannot know …” I feel him shake his head against me as words fail him. He holds me close, his talon-tipped wings curving protectively around us.

I reach out and touch one leathery wing, tracing a vein. “Bargainer, I would like to make a deal.”

Des stiffens. “Callie …”

He doesn’t need to say anything more for me to understand what he’s thinking about. The last time I bargained with our relationship, we lost seven years together.

“It’s a little request,” I say. One that should have no lasting repercussions.

The King of the Night waits, but there’s no mistaking how tense his body is.

“I want to get married somewhere special to you.”

Des touches my face lightly, his expression unreadable. I think maybe he’s wildly elated, but maybe that’s just hope talking.

Wrapping a hand around my waist, the Night King lifts us into the air, his wings billowing about him.

“Cherub, it’s a deal.”

The place Deschooses to marry me is not earth, but then, I didn’t think it would be.

We stand amongst the ruins of the temple of Lyra, some ancient fae goddess associated with new life. The carved marble archways and columns are now mere bones of what once must have been an extravagant building.

Time eats away at all things—not even the fae are impervious to that fate.

The wild grass has overtaken some of the fallen slabs of stone, its stalks swaying in the evening wind, the blooms of a thousand pearlescent flowers bobbing to and fro amongst it all.