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A moment ago, the Thief and I were sitting out on the beach beyond my backyard, and I can’t shake the nonsensical belief that he’s still out there, staring up at my house, debating whether or not he should break down the door and fuck with me and Des.

I clasp onto the Bargainer’s forearm as he cradles my head and neck. I close my eyes and will my heartrate to slow.

When I open my eyes, the Bargainer is smoothing my hair away from my face. “We used to do this together,” he says softly, “back in your dorm room. You used to get nightmares and I’d wake you from them.”

Because even when we weren’t awe, Des was still saving me, over and over again.

“Do you remember?” he asks quietly.

I nod against him.

“And now the nightmares are back, and this time, I can’t save you from them.”

I draw in a shaky breath and press a hand to my clammy forehead. “He can control dreams—the Thief. He called the place his kingdom.”

Des frowns, his forehead wrinkling as his gaze searches my face. I think he’s about to tell me something, but the moment passes and his words never come.

Out my bedroom windows, I can hear the surf crashing against the shore. It’s one more visceral reminder of my dream.

I shudder out a breath. “I don’t know why he’s targeting me.” I’m embarrassed by how weak I sound.

“Listen to me,” Des says, gripping me tightly. “The Thief of Souls may be powerful, but you areno one’svictim. Do you understand?”

I swallow and nod.

Des searches my face, the moonlight casting his face in shades of blue. “Think you’ll be able to fall back to sleep?” he asks.

And end up in another one of the Thief’s sick dreams?

I shake my head.

The Bargainer let’s out a breath. “Then let’s grab breakfast.”

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s 3:02 a.m.

“Where are we going to get breakfast this early?”

Des just grins.

“I fucking loveyou, you know that, right?” I ask, pulling apart a chocolate croissant. Around us, sunlight filters into Douglas Café. It may be the middle of the night in Malibu, but it’s nearly lunchtime on the Isle of Man. The place is abuzz with people chatting over coffee and pastries, life moving along the same way it did when we used to come here a decade ago.

“It’s always nice to be reminded.” Des kicks his booted feet up on the table, leaning back to sip his espresso. The years might pass, but watching the big bad Bargainer drink coffee from a tiny cup will never get old.

I take a sip from my coffee, watching a group of teenage witches gossip as they wait in line to order.

“Do you ever wish you had that?” Des asks, following my gaze.

“Had what?”

The Bargainer smirks. “Don’t be coy, cherub. You know what I’m talking about.”

Girlfriends. A posse. A group of women that have your back and you have theirs. People who you’d shop with, borrow shit from, tell all your secrets to. There had been moments where I’d wanted all of that so desperately it hurt.

I take a deep breath, setting my mug down. “Sometimes—when I don’t think about what it would’ve cost me.” If I hadn’t been so desperately lonely, I wouldn’t have bartered for Des’s company. And if I hadn’t bartered for that …

“I would’ve come for you, love.” He kicks his feet off the table. “I searched a hundred years for you. I would’ve found you, one way or another.”

That confession warms me to the tips of my toes.