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Des turns, assessing me. “Ready, cherub?” he asks.

Shit, I’m really doing this.

I nod. I let him lead me forward, towards the middle of the room. The air feels thicker with each step, and I swear I hear music, but it’s so soft that I can’t be sure that my ears aren’t just playing tricks on me.

With a poignant look, the Bargainer drags me into his arms and our surroundings disappear.

Chapter 12

January, seven years ago

When Des appearsin front of me, I’m a fucking mess. A handful of tissues are spread out around me. My face is wet and my eyes, swollen.

I look up at the Bargainer miserably, my entire body trembling.

He crosses his arms, his leather jacket groaning. “Who do I have to hurt?”

I shake my head, dropping my gaze. I don’t know why I called him. I don’t let other people see me when I’m like this. But I’m so tired of being alone.

Today was … today was a bad day.

“Give me a name, cherub.”

I wipe my eyes. I’m not done crying, but for the moment the tears have stopped.

When I finally meet Des’s eyes, I see he’s serious. It takes me a moment to realize that the Bargainer ispissed, and another moment to realize he’s pissedon my behalf.

And I’m codependent enough to actually feel better because of this reaction. “He’s an instructor,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

Des sits down next to me, one of his wide shoulders brushing mine before he wraps his arm around me and pulls me in close. For the next five minutes he lets me just cry and make a mess of his leather jacket, my head tucked beneath his. His hand moves up and down my arm reassuringly, but the action is somewhat ruined by how menacing his presence feels.

Finally I manage to pull myself together, my body not shaking quite so much anymore. I push away from him a little.

Frowning deeply, he wipes the tears off my cheeks before cupping my face. “Tell me what happened.” I feel anger vibrating off of him.

I take in a shuddering breath. “His name is Mr. Whitechapel. He—he tried to touch me …”

But those aren’t the right words, are they? Hedidtouch me. He wouldn’t stop until he’d pinned me down, telling me the entire time that I wanted this. That I’d been driving him crazy the entire semester. That he’d noticed every one of my suggestive looks.

He’d unbuttoned the top of my pants, he’d pushed my shirt up …

That was as far as he got. Too far.

I still don’t have full control of my gift, but fear brings it out. The siren told him to stop, told him to let me go.

And then I ran here.

And now I’m dying inside, falling back into who I was before the Bargainer saved me from my past.

I hate my face, I hate my body, I hate who I see in the mirror. I hate my ability to reel people in with a single look and command. I hate everything about me that makes me who I am. I hate that anyone can still make me feel weak.

I manage to get the story out, and then I begin to cry again. And again, the Bargainer pulls me into him. I lean my head against his chest, for once not thinking about him in a romantic sense. Just comfort.

“Cherub, I’m proud of you using your power like that,” Des eventually says.

Why that makes me cry harder, I can’t say.

“Want to know a secret?” he says, his hand smoothing down my hair. He doesn’t wait for me to respond. “People like him were born to fear people like us,” he says, his voice sinister.