Des’s eyes are on my hand, my hand that’s really fucking enjoying the feel of his corded arm.

“Cherub, you’re surrounded by over a thousand people your age. I need to work and you need to get better friends than me.”

“I just want to be around you.”

“Why?” he says, his eyes searching mine.

Because I can’t control you. Because you know my secrets. Because you make me feel normal.

Because in spite of all logic and reason, I think I might be in love with you.

“Please,” I say.

But it’s not enough. Gently, Des pries my hand off his arm, and then he’s gone.

Present

Just when I think the Bargainer is going to proclaim his true feelings for me, his face shuts down.

He leads me inside, the two of us tense. I’m rattled by Eli, by this evening, but most of all by Des.

I walk ahead of him, plopping down on one of his barstools. “So, I’m staying here for the night?”

Des saunters in after me, leaning against one of his cupboards. “Unless you’d prefer I drop you back off at the dog run your house has turned into.”

I just give him a look. He returns it, his heated gaze moving over me. His wings are still out. The siren in me really likes that. So does the woman.

I slide off the barstool and open his refrigerator. “So, when are we—” I let out a little noise, distracted by the food in the fridge.

The thing’s filled with all my favorites—samosas, pizza, pasta, pie, fried rice, macaroni salad. Out of curiosity I open the freezer.

Ice cream, mini quiches, ice cream cake—what?—taquitos.

I throw the Bargainer a squinty glance. “You so prepared for this.”

He lifts a shoulder, but his eyes are laughing.

I turn back to the fridge. “You’re going to fatten me up like a Thanksgiving turkey,” I mutter.

Seriously though.

I grab the container of cookie dough ice cream and pull it out, setting it on the island bar. “Spoon?”

He opens the drawer next to him and tosses it to me. I barely manage to catch the thing before it takes out an eyeball.

I’m about to scoop out a bite of the ice cream when I catch sight of a white paper bag next to him.

No. Effing. Way. “Are those … ?” I can’t even ask it.

“French macaroons from Douglas Café,” he finishes for me.

Forgetting about the ice cream, I get up and head over to Des. “Douglas is far away.” Half a world away.

“Ley lines, cherub,” he says.

“Can I?” I ask, indicating the bag.

“They’re for you.” He watches me as I reach around him.

He so planned on me being here tonight. I wonder if he planned on the evening turning out the way it had, or if he had something else entirely up his sleeve. Knowing what a trickster he is, I wouldn’t be surprised on the latter.

His eyes flick to the ice cream. It lifts off the table, floating towards the freezer. One of the sleek, stainless steel refrigerator doors open, and the ice cream slides in. The spoon soars back across the room, the drawer opening in time for it to clatter inside.

Seeing all this brings a cozy warmth to the pit of my stomach, the kind that comes with happy, familiar memories.

I pull out a pink macaroon and take a bit into it.

I let out a long, deep moan.

It’s perfect.

“Des, you are a god,” I say in between bites. It’s been years since I’ve had any macaroons at all, and Douglas Café’s were always the best.

“King,” he corrects. His lips have quirked, lightening that stare of his. But it’s turning mischievous.

He steps in close, taking the paper bag from me and setting it aside, along with the partially eaten macaroon. “You’ve had a trying evening, Callie.”

I stare at him warily, feeling like that little bug trapped in a spider’s web all over again.

“How would you like to postpone going to the Otherworld until morning?” I feel his breath against my skin. “What if tonight we just had a little fun?”

My pulse begins to pound.

Be prepared for more than just a kiss.

“What did you have in mind?”

But it’s already too late. He grabs my wrist, his fingers grazing over all his beads.

“Time for a truth, cherub: what would you most like to do tonight?”

The magic wraps around my throat, tugging at my windpipe. There are a million things my dirty mind would be quite happy doing, so I’m surprised when I say, “I want to swim in the ocean.”

I guess it’s really that simple.

Des smiles at me, and for once it’s genuine. “Alright, let’s take you to the ocean then.”

He leads me back outside and then, wrapping me up in his arms, he flies us down the cliffs behind his home to a tiny little alcove of a beach.

I step out of his arms, listening to the crash of the waves. It calls to me, each slick splash of the water beckoning me closer and closer. Absently, I kick off my shoes and pull off my socks.

I still sense the Bargainer behind me, but I might as well be alone right now. I wade into the water, wincing just slightly at the frigid temperature.

The sound, the smell, the feel of the ocean all steady my pulse.

I am home.

Clothes and all, I dive into the sea. I surface only to dive back under again. Down here in the sea’s watery depths, there’s a quiet peace. Second by second I feel my worries and insecurities wash away. There’s just me, the night, and the ocean.