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A sliver of fear blooms. I haven’t been taking Des’s bargains seriously. The proof runs up my wrist. To me they always felt like games. Macabre, violent games, but games nonetheless.

And games aren’t real.

But this is real, and because I interfered, I might’ve ruined someone’s life—well, ruined it more than it already was.

Des clenches his jaw. “How many girls can glamour someone? Just think about that for a second.”

I don’t know.

He leans in close. “Precious few.” His eyes narrow. “Do you know what happens if someone comes after that man? If that someone didn’t want Stan to talk in the first place? They’re going to torture him, and what allegiance does Stan have to you? He’s going to squeal as soon as he can, and then whoever he was so afraid of is going to come after you.”

Jesus.

“I can make him forget,” I say, my voice rising. “Just bring him back to me.” I peer over Des’s shoulder and into the darkness.

“Making him forget won’t change the situation,” the Bargainer says. “If the wrong person were interested enough, they could sense your glamour even without the aid of Stan’s memory. And then they could trace it back to you.”

I feel my nausea rising. Not just on my own behalf, but because my meddling might’ve screwed over Stan and Des as well.

The kicker of it all is that I thought the Bargainer would be impressed—proud even. I’d proven myself useful.

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

Des’s eyes search mine, and little by little his anger evaporates. He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s not your fault,” he says, deflated. “I should never have brought you along. I was a fool to let you convince me in the first place.”

I go rigid beneath him. As screwed up as it is, I like coming along with him.

“I want to keep coming along with you,” I say.

“I know, cherub. But neither of us can live like this.”

His words make my heart pound harder, though I’m not sure if I feel dread or excitement. I guess it all depends on his reasons.

“Like what?” I ask.

He just squeezes me harder. “Nothing. Forget I mentioned it at all.”

Present

I wake tonear darkness. A large leg has been thrown over mine and an arm is wrapped around my midsection.

Des.

Sometime during the finalHarry Pottermovie I fell asleep in his arms, my body spooned against his. And in the hours since, I’ve been reeled in tight against his chest, his body nearly encasing mine.

My clothes are still on, as are his, and yet something about this feels incredibly intimate.

I rub my eyes, dazedly taking in the dim room. Des’s shadows lurk in every corner, the sight of them makes me feel …safe.

I begin to move, only for Des’s grip to tighten on me, pulling me even closer. I let out a little squeak. I’m an overgrown man’s teddy bear at the moment.

The Bargainer stirs, nuzzling the back of my head. “You awake?” he asks, his voice sleep-roughened.

Instead of answering, I angle my head up and look into his eyes. Gone is the calculating edge to them, gone is his wiliness. Gone are the shields he hides behind.

Right now he’s just a tired, happy man.

He reaches up and runs a thumb over my lower lip. “I lied to you earlier, cherub, sleep does very much become you.”