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I swallow as he steps in close.

“Could you kill for me?” He asks, his voice low. His lips brush my ear. “Could you give your body to me?”

Oh God, is he telling the truth? Could he really make me do those things?

He runs his nose down my cheek and laughs at my obvious fear.

Stepping away from me, he says, “Like I told you before, I don’t bargain with minors. Don’t ruin your life owing me.”

The air shimmers.

He might’ve scared the shit out of me, but at this point, I’m too far gone. I can’t let him leave. It’s as simple as that.

The siren surfaces, stretching out just beneath my skin. I lunge for him and catch his wrist, my hand glowing. “Make a deal with me,” I say, putting as much glamour into my voice as possible. “I’m not a minor.”

I’m really not. In the supernatural community, the legal age of adulthood is sixteen. It’s some archaic law that no one’s ever bothered changing.

And right now, I am not complaining.

The Bargainer stares down my hand, like he can’t believe what’s happening, and I feel an instant’s worth of remorse. It’s crappy to take away someone’s free will.

Desperate times.

His features sharpen, his brows knitting, the rest of his face turning, in one word,sinister.

He rips his arm out of my hand. “Youdareto glamour me?” His power rides his voice, and it’s petrifying, filling the whole room.

I step back. Okay, glamouring him might’ve been a shit idea.

“It doesn’t work on you?” What kind of supernatural is immune to glamour?

The Bargainer eases closer to me, his boots clinking ominously. He’s furious, that much is obvious.

He leans in, so close that several strands of his white blond hair tickle my cheeks. “You want to piss your life away by making a deal?” His mouth curves up ever so slightly, his eyes sparking with interest. “Fine, let’s make a deal.”

Present

“I have tosay, sleep does not become you.”

I roll over in bed and rub my eyes. When I pull my hand away, I see the Bargainer standing off to the side of the bed, his arms folded and his head cocked. He’s studying me like I’m an exotic bird, which technically, I sort of am.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still groggy from sleep.

“In case you’ve missed it, the day is done. I’m here to collect more of my payment.” The way he sayspaymentsends shivers up my arms. Behind him, the moon shines brightly into the room.

I groan. I slept the entire day away. Ever since that phone call …

He snaps his fingers and the blankets that cover me slide off.

“Des, what are you—?”

Hetsks, interrupting me. “Your pajamas don’t become you either, cherub. I was hoping those would improve with age as well.”

I stifle a yawn and push myself off the bed. “Because I care what you think,” I mumble, padding past him. Where yesterday his presence filled me with old pain, tonight all I feel is annoyance. Well, and a little lust, and a shit-ton of heartache. But right now I’m focusing on annoyance.

I make my way to the bathroom, discreetly wiping away a bit of drool from my mouth.

The Bargainer follows me, enjoying just how much he’s ruining my evening. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says.