I couldn’t just be Callie; I’d have to be his Callie. I’d have to come to heel, be subservient to him, as the rest of his pack was. I’d have to put the pack first before my needs.

Or I could leave with Des. Des, who guarantees nothing. Des, who left me all those years ago only to come roaring back into my life. Des who doesn’t want to change me.

Des, who’s offered me nothing but hope and heartache. Des, my friend. Des, my mystery.

Des.

Des.

And there is my answer.

Eli was someone’s dream, but … but he wasn’t mine.

“I will always care for you, Eli,” I say, “but you need to go back to your people.”

“Callie.” His voice breaks.

His pain’s shattering me. I don’t want him to hurt.

Shadows gather around me. Suddenly, Des is wrapping his arm around my waist. “Cherub, we need to go.”

Seeing us together is Eli’s final straw. His eyes become wholly golden, and they lose their spark of human intelligence. Hair sprouts along his skin. His back bows, his muscles rippling. He throws his head into the air and howls, the sound making every nerve of mine stand on end.

Night air swirls around me as Des tugs me towards my backyard.

When Eli drops to all fours, I throw caution to the wind, and run, grabbing Des’s hand and hauling him with me.

The Bargainer scoops me into his arms just as a spine-chilling howl fills the air behind us.

“Hold on,” Des says as Eli lopes towards us.

Geez, that is a big fucking wolf.

The Bargainer’s body tenses, and then he pushes off the ground.

I catch a glimpse of Eli’s wolf lunging after us, his teeth snapping at empty air where a second ago Des’s ankle was.

I hear the mournful howls long after we’re airborne, the sound haunting.

I lean my head into Des’s chest, feeling his hands tighten around me.

For better or for worse, I’d chosen him.

And I still don’t regret it.

Chapter 10

January, seven years ago

“Why don’t you take me with you?” I ask.

The Bargainer and I sit inside Douglas Café, the warm light illuminating our surroundings. Outside it’s begun to snow.

Des leans back in his seat, stirring his coffee idly. “To collect payment from my clients?” he raises his eyebrows. “Not going to happen.”

“Why not?” I ask. Or I try to ask—it comes out more like a whine. I have to stifle a wince. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m immature.

“Cherub, have you ever considered the possibility that there are things about me I don’t want you to see?”

“I’m not innocent, Des,” I say. “I already know what you do.” I’d seen it firsthand the first time I called on him. “Add a bead. Let me come along.”

He leans forward, jostling the table as he does so. “You foolish girl,” he growls as I reach forward and steady my cup. “Those beads aren’t a joke.”

“If you’re so against them, then stop handing them out like candy.” I know my words will just bait him, but part of me—the wilder, cursed part—wants to see Des lose control.

Des’s face sharpens. “You want to know what my favors will eventually cost you? Fine. I’ll show you. Maybe then you’ll stay far away.” He downs the rest of his coffee and stands, his chair screeching behind him as he does so.

Wait? We’re doing this now?

When I don’t immediately get out of my seat, he waves his hand.

My chair begins to tilt, forcing me to stand. Around us no one notices.

I barely have time to grab my coat and the last of my macaroons before he takes my hand and drags me out of there.

Outside, snow catches in my hair as we head down the street. Almost immediately the cold seeps into my clothes. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

Shadows of Des’s making curl around us like smoke.

He doesn’t speak to me the entire walk back to Douglas Cemetery, where the closest entrance to the ley lines is.

Ley lines are essentially supernatural highways. Across the world there are certain wrinkles and tears in the fabric of our world, which are entry points, or portals, onto these ley lines. From there, if you were a certain type of creature—say a fairy or demon—who knew how to manipulate these ley lines, you could move through worlds and between worlds. That last bit is precisely how Des could be a king in the Otherworld, then come to Earth and bargain with mortals.

When we get to a particularly old section of the cemetery, the headstones so old and weathered most of the names and dates have been worn away, he pulls me close, his jaw clenched. His stormy eyes stare down at me. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Before I have a chance to say anything, our surroundings disappear. A moment later buildings and canals replace tombstones.

I stare around us with wonder. “Venice,” I breathe.

I always wanted to visit. And at the snap of the Bargainer’s fingers, we were here.

Perks of being friends with a fae king.

“Stay close,” he warns.

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” I mumble, trailing after him. He practically had my hand in a chokehold.

The two of us wind through back alleys, and I wrinkle my nose at the smell of sewage. When we get to a small, weather-worn door, Des stops.

I glance over at him. His jaw’s clenched, his silver eyes icy.

Still pissed.