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Take. Claim. Keep.

She catches my hand as I stalk around her. “Des, what are you talking about?”

I hold our clasped hands up between us, my eyes moving from them to my siren’s face. A face born to make men die for. Dangerous, dangerous creature. I want her so badly I nearly shake from it.

Her deep, haunted eyes search mine. To take that wounded sheen away! I won’t rest until I’ve banished it from her features.

I smile at her. “How would you like to begin repayment tonight?”

Take—claim—keep.

“Desmond Flynn, whatever’s going on, I need you to snap out of it.”

Her voice drags me from the darkness.

I can feel Callie’s hand trembling just the slightest. At best she’s apprehensive of me; at worst, I’ve frightened her.

What am I doing?Tonight was supposed to be about her, not me.

I bring her hand to my lips, closing my eyes as I do so. My fae inclinations batter at me. It’s all I can do to stand there and ride through the urges that want to take over.

At some point, the almost painful need to cart Callie off finally retreats, leaving me exhausted. My muscles ache; even my bones are weary.

I open my eyes.

“I’m sorry, cherub,” I say hoarsely. “You weren’t meant to see that.” Centuries of control—all gone in a single instant. “I am … not human, for all I appear to be.”

Callie steps closer to me, and it’s the last thing I expect.

She tilts her head. “Do you … like me?” she asks.

Shit. Now’s not a good time to have this conversation, not when the urge to claim her is skewering me.

I release her hand. “Callie.” I say her name the same way I’d saystop.

Need to leave.

“Do you?” she presses.

Of course I do, cherub.To anyone else it would’ve been painfully obvious. But not my Callie, who believes love is something she only gets to window shop.

I brush my thumb against her cheekbone, wanting her so desperately. I’m so damn tired of fighting myself, denying these feelings, pushing her away.

So for once, I don’t.

I bow my head in a nod.

Callie’s skin brightens at my confession, she and her siren clearly thrilled. She rises to her tip-toes, her eyelids dropping low, her lips parting.

“Callie—”

Before I finish protesting, she presses her mouth to mine.

Ye gods! It’s demanding all of my restraint to keep my own lips immobile against hers. Even so, the world explodes in a kaleidoscope of color and magic.

Reflexively I reach up, my hands encircling her upper arms. I squeeze them, wanting to drag her closer and part her sweet lips so I can discover exactly what Callie tastes like.

My mouth was made to kiss hers.