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He takes my lips in a kiss. “Sometimes I hold out on you simply because I enjoy driving you mad with need. It makes me feel less out of control in love with you.”

“That’s not nice.”

He laughs low. “Whoever said I was nice?”

With that, he slips into the water, plunging beneath the surface. When he rises again, his shirt is slicked to his skin, each fold of it lovingly molding to his chest.

There are no words. He took my breath away the first time I saw him, and it’s no different now. And he still has that devilish look to him—his features a little too sharp. He screams bad news. Which, of course, is like a rallying cry to my lady parts.

His silver eyes dance.

Still hearing every damn thought that crosses my mind.

“What are the shadows saying now?” I whisper.

Des closes in on me. “They’ve gone quiet.”

“Even mine?”

He stops in front of me, an arm sliding around my waist. “Even yours.”

“The Thief of Souls?” I ask, as a thought comes to me. “What do the shadows say about him?”

Callie, the Killer of Moments, really is an apt title right about now.

The Bargainer’s good mood withers away. “The shadows won’t speak of him.”

“Not at all?”

Des frowns. “Not a single thing. Whoever the Thief is, he has either their allegiance … or their fear.”

Chapter 17

I wake onthe ground, my eyes fluttering open.

“Ah, you’re awake. I thought you’d lay there all night.”

My claws lengthen reflexively at the sound of the Thief’s voice, my nails scraping against the stone beneath me.

I went to bed in the Day Kingdom, and I woke …

Here. Wherever here is.

I sit up slowly and gaze around.

The room is done in pale stone. Blood red vines snake up the walls, strange flowers blooming from them.

Across from me, is a pool of some sort, the water luminous. And to the left of it, the Thief reclines against a pillar.

A shudder courses through me.

“My,whata reaction.” His onyx eyes seem to glitter in this strange place. “I take it you missed me.”

“Where am I?” I ask, rising to my feet. I can’t tell whether I’m inside or outside. Behind me, the walls seem to give way to open air, and the night sky shines down.

But within the walls of this place, wall sconces burn, the sound of it muffled, like cloth snapping in the wind. And amongst it all, the Thief of Souls, his lips soft, his eyes cold, his attention fixed to me.

This is a dream. Just a dream. But if it’s a dream, and I know it’s a dream, then—