This can work.

Even though he’s more than a little scary, and even though my siren would love nothing more than to take advantage of him, he’s the moon in my dark sky.

My dark king. My best friend.

I rise to my tip-toes.

“Callie—”

I cut him off with a kiss. It’s a bit of an indulgence to call it a kiss. My lips graze his, and there they linger.

The Bargainer’s hands move to my upper arms and he squeezes them. I swear he wants to pull me closer, but he doesn’t.

His lips stay rigid beneath mine, and I’m going to lose courage fast.

But then he lets out a pained sound and his mouth does begin to move. Suddenly, it goes from being a “kiss” to being a kiss.

He gathers me into his arms, his lips sweeping over mine, and his mouth moving desperately, like he can’t get enough. Like this is the first, the last, the only kiss he’ll ever get.

The whole thing takes my breath away. I slide my arms around his waist, feeling like I’m holding on for dear life. Every part of me fits perfectly against every part of him.

Hell couldn’t give me a more wicked man; heaven couldn’t give me a more perfect moment. A year I’ve waited, a year I’ve agonized, a year I’ve despaired that this would never happen.

And now it is.

One of Des’s hands threads into my hair, roughly gripping it. He can’t hold me any tighter, and yet I sense that he’s trying. That he’s trying to fill himself with my very essence.

And here I thought I’d worry about how crappy my kissing technique would be. I hadn’t imagined this—that he’d crave me like a dying man craves life.

My lips part as I gasp in a breath of air, and it’s like the action breaks a spell. One moment Des’s mouth is on mine, the next, it’s gone.

He releases me, staggering back, his breathing heavy. Shadows gather around him, thicker and denser than I’ve ever seen them. They wrap around me too, looking like billowing black storm clouds.

But I only have time to wonder at his shadows before my eyes are drawn up—up, up.

Behind Des, two wicked, silvery wings flicker into existence, the sharp talon-tipped ridges of them rising above the Bargainer’s head.

“Your wings …” I say, awed.

The only time our wings come out is when we want to fight or fuck, he’d said.

And I don’t think he wants to fight me.

Des doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, he’s still staring at me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It was never supposed to happen like this. I should’ve waited. I’d intended to wait.”

“Des, what’s wrong?” I say, taking a step forward. My stomach is plummeting. I can already sense his regret.

He drags a shaky hand through his hair. “I have to go.”

“No,” I say, my skin dimming.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I meant to give you more time. I never should have done this—any of it.”

Any of it?

He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying. Especially not when his wings are still out. They’ve been twitching, like they want to spread themselves.

“But you like me,” I say, not understanding what he’s rambling about, but hearing regret threaded throughout his voice.

“I’m a king, Callie. And you’re …”

Broken.

“Innocent.”

“I’m not innocent.” God, I’m not.

He stalks forward and cups my cheek. “You are. You are so painfully innocent in so many ways, and I’m a very, very bad man. You should stay away from me because I can’t seem to.”

Wait. “Stay away? But why?”

“I can’t just be your friend, Callie.”

I can’t just be yours, either.

“Then don’t,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says, searching my face.

“I don’t care.” And I really don’t.

“But I do,” he says quietly. There’s a finality to his words.

I feel a tear drip out because I know what this is.

It’s a goodbye. And I don’t understand any of it.

His voice drops. “Don’t cry.”

“You don’t have to go,” I say. “Everything can go back to the way it was. We can just … pretend tonight never happened.” I practically choke the words out. I don’t want to pretend any of this away.

Des frowns. Still holding my chin, he pulls my face forward, kissing each of my tears.

When he pulls away, I see something in his eyes, something that makes me think the Bargainer’s feelings run deeper than I assumed. That only confuses me more.

“Just… give me some time.” Almost reluctantly he releases me, backing up.

“How long are you going to be gone?” I ask. In the last year I’d never gone more than a few days without seeing him.

His lips press together. “Long enough to figure out what I want and what you deserve.”

The way he says that causes panic to unfurl inside me. This is the end of something. I thought it was the beginning … but it’s not. It was foolish of me to be so optimistic.

“What about my debts?” All 322 of them. They’re a lifeline suddenly.

“They don’t matter.”

They don’t matter? This is the Bargainer, the man who has made an empire off of his deals. He wouldn’t just squander hundreds of them.