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After throwing together a meal for myself, I flipped through her Netflix account. By all appearances she still likes book-to-movie adaptations, and she also watches a good dose of comedy shows.

Now I recline on her bed, gazing at the moon, which rises over the Pacific. The sight stirs some old yearning in me, something both nostalgic and dully painful. Maybe it’s the sight of that moon so close to the water—so close and yet still out of reach. It reminds me of Nyxos and Fierion, the gods of night and day; the star-crossed lovers always seeking one another, always kept apart.

But the thrill of being back in her life is too heady for me to get sad at the rising moon. I bathe in the shadows that slip through Callie’s windows, closing my eyes while I wait.

Eventually, I hear the front door creak open, then the soft sound of footfalls. It takes my mate entirely too long to make her way back to her bedroom, where I lounge on her mattress.

It’s taking all of my concentration to keep my wings and my eagerness in check.

Callie steps into the doorway, her body cast in shadows.

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.

Can’t be real.

Not that dark hair that falls in waves down her body, not that face, which was created to break men’s hearts and bend their wills. My gaze moves to her flesh, encased in only the wispiest lingerie.

She’s a vision made to haunt me.

Before I can help it, my wings manifest beneath me, flaring open. I’m the teenager and she’s the unattainable woman.

How ironic the Fates are.

My wings are out only for the briefest of moments, but the movement startles her. I hear her swift intake of air, and then a moment later, she flicks on the bedroom lights.

Fuck me good, nothing has ever looked so godsdamned appealing as Callie in lingerie. She looked mesmerizing in the shadows; she’s a vision in the soft light of her room.

All signs of the girl she once was are now gone. Teenage Callie has been replaced by this creature, with her womanly curves and devastating face.

Time to scheme, Desmond.It’s going to take more than sheer ardor to conquer my mate’s heart.

Callie stares at me, shocked. No, not shocked—thunderstruck. I catch a peak of unsure, teenage Callie in the look.

There’s my girl.

I flick my gaze over her. “You’ve upgraded your lingerie since I last saw you.”

Going to dream about this later.

There’s a long pause; Callie appears to be collecting herself.

“Hello, Desmond Flynn,” she finally says, deliberately using my full name. She might as well have reached between my legs and squeezed my balls.

A slow grin parts my lips. Feisty thing. “I didn’t realize you wanted to spill secrets tonight, Callypso Lillis.”

My eyes return to her flesh. I can’t keep myself from looking at her,allof her.

Take. Claim. Keep.

She cuts across her bedroom, grabbing a robe from her closet.

“What do you want, Des?” she asks from where she ties the robe. Her voice is somehow annoyed, bored, and exasperated all at once. There’s a name for this.

Apathy.

For one split second the sky feels like it’s crashing down around me.

She’s moved on entirely.