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“How about I make you a queen for a night?” I say.

Before she has a chance to respond, I let my magic loose, coaxing fireflies from the darkness. One by one they fly over my shoulder, heading straight for a very confused Callie.

The fireflies circle her before landing on her head.

“I have bugs in my hair,” she states.

“You have a crown.” I grin and lean against the stone wall.

You’ll wear a different crown one day …

One of the fireflies slips from her hair, tumbling down her scarf before making its way beneath her shirt.

“Oh my God!” Her eyes grow as big as saucers, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.

“Naughty bugs,” I cluck, “stay away from the pretty human boobs.”

I scoop the bug up, forcing myself to ignore a slew of inappropriate thoughts when my knuckles brush Callie’s soft skin. I release the firefly a moment later, and together, the two of us watch it bop and dip its way back into her hair.

Across from me, Callie begins to laugh.

She’s going to break me. I fell in love with this woman’s darkness, with her pain and vulnerability. That had been enough. But when she laughs—when she laughs, that’s when I realize I’m a ruined man.

“Des, are you trying to cheer me up?” she says.

I take Callie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here. You hungry?” I ask. “Dinner’s on me.”

“Dinner’sonyou?” she says. “Now that sounds interesting …”

Gods’ bones, if I didn’t already love her, I would now.

“Cherub, I may make a fairy out of you yet.”

Chapter 17

A Marked Man

January, 7 years ago

Before I evenappear in Callie’s room, I know something’s off. Maybe it’s the way her voice wavers when she calls out to me, maybe it’s our ephemeral bond, and maybe it’s the darkness, whispering secrets that aren’t theirs to tell.

But knowing something’s off and seeing it are two entirely different things.

Callie sits among a pile of used tissues, her eyes puffy and red.

… a man held her down …

… touched her against her will …

I need to skullfuck someone.

I cross my arms. “Who do I have to hurt?” This, I’m going to enjoy, I can already tell.

She shakes her head, her gaze dropping.

“Give me a name, cherub.” I can’t give her love—yet—but I can give her vengeance.

She wipes her face, then glances up at me. “He’s an instructor,” she whispers.