A Strange Hymn
Page 12
I’m weak in so many ways, but not in this one.
“I would leave you.” Even though it would ruin me, I would.
Shadows begin to coil and twist at the edges of the room. Someone doesn’t like my answer.
Des raps his knuckles against the table. “As you rightly should.”
I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it’s not that.
He straightens, sliding off the table. “Come.” He holds out his hand.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I say, staring at his palm.
He sighs. “No, Callie. I do not have a harem—I never have.”
My body relaxes, and I take his hand.
“Why not?” I ask as he leads me out.
He glances down at me, a brow raised.
“It’s an honest question.”
“And one that has many answers,” he responds smoothly as we leave.
“… Answers that you want to tell me,” I nudge.
He smiles a bit. “I do …” he admits, “but at some other time.”
We exit the library and cut across the palace grounds. Before we can so much as enter the castle proper, Des releases my hand and halts.
I stop a few paces in front from him, turning to glance back over my shoulder.
The look he wears … Des is no longer being playful or doting. He looks so very fae. Hungry for things that he wishes to possess. I know that sly, calculating look. It’s the same one he gets when he has something in mind that I might not entirely like.
“What?” I ask.
“You’ve been reading about me and my kingdom.” That does not at all explain his expression.
His gaze cuts to my bracelet.
I take a step back, the skin of my wrist prickling. Now I know that look. It’s the look he gets right before he has me repay a debt.
“Don’t.” I give him a warning look. I have no idea where his mind is at, and that, more than anything, frightens me.
He strolls forward, his heavy boots thudding against the stone. “Funny that after all I’ve demanded of you, cherub, you still think you can sway me with your protests.” Des steps in close. “You still owe me many, many favors.”
Hundreds of them, I know.
“Forcing me to do things against my will won’t make me like you more,” I say.
He leans in close. “I’ve tricked, hurt, and killed men in front of you. I’m confident a few debts that you owe me won’t damage my chances.”
I slit my eyes at him. What am I supposed to say? I do owe him favors, favors that I bought fair and square. And I am the sucker that loves Des even at his worst.
“Let me see that pretty wrist,” Des coaxes.
I don’t have time to react before his magic wraps around my arm, lifting it up. He steps in close, inspecting the remaining rows of beads.
His eyes move from my bracelet to my face. “Several weeks ago you mentioned that you wanted to see my kingdom,” he says. “Were you being serious?”
First he comments about me reading up on his kingdom, now this?
I bite the inside of my lip, not sure where he’s going with this line of questioning. Eventually, I nod. I meant it; I do want to know everything there is to know about this man, including the kingdom he rules.
“Good.” He looks all too pleased. “Then you and I are going on a little trip—”
Should I be worried? A trip doesn’t sound too bad.
“—and we’ll be flying there. Together.”
Chapter 9
I glare at Des for the millionth time as we step out onto the highest balcony of his castle, rubbing my arms against the slight chill. Right now, we’re out at the witching hour, stealing away in the night like criminals.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
Fly.
Back on earth, flying means boarding a plane. Here it literally means flapping your wings, which—shocker—I’m not too thrilled about. I mean, even birds can screw up this flying business, and I am no bird.
I glance down at my bracelet, where two beads are missing, the cost of taking a trip with Des.
Two. Beads.
He catches me glaring at my bracelet and, capturing my jaw, steals a kiss that definitely wasn’t his to take. “Cheer up, love,” he says. “This will be fun.”
Fun my ass. The only thing remotely pleasant about this experience is that Des is wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, his tattoos are on full display, and his leather pants are hugging the shit out of his backside.
I mean, I can be mad at him and still enjoy the view.
Over his shoulders, his wings expand, taking up a staggering expanse of the balcony on either side of him. They shimmer in the moonlight, his curved talons gleaming along their edges.
“Stretch your wings,” he commands.
“I’m still annoyed at you,” I say, even as I extend my wings.
The sensation of them unfolding is both uncomfortably foreign and inexplicably satisfying—like taking off a bra at the end of the day. Since my wings appeared, I’ve kept them closely pressed to my back. I hadn’t realized until now how good stretching them would feel.
“I’m aware of that,” Des says, his voice a silken caress.
He disappears. Before I can so much as swing around to look for him, I feel his warm hand run over the upper ridge of my wings. He strokes them the same way he strokes the rest of my flesh, the touch oddly erotic.
“They’re breathtaking, you know,” he says, his fingers skimming over my feathers. “Just one more tempting thing about my enchantress.”
“Enchantress?” The question slips out before I remind myself that he’s supposed to be receiving my ire right now.
“That’s what fairies have started to call you—an enchantress.”
I can’t decide whether I’m more flattered or flustered by this particular detail.
“We don’t have sirens here in the Otherworld,” Des continues, “but from time to time we do have magical beings—enchanters—who can enthrall others with their magic. It’s a very coveted power.”
He circles back in front of me, his gaze moving to my wings. “Try beating your wings.”
I groan. I’d forgotten for an instant that I was out here learning how to fly.
I do as he says, the action stirring my hair. Des watches my wingbeats shrewdly, nodding like an instructor.
“Now try jumping,” he says. “See if you can keep yourself in the air for any length of time.”
“Want me to juggle while I’m at it?” I feel like a circus sideshow.
He folds his arms and just waits.
I sigh. “Fine.”
I jump, beating my wings. Nothing impressive happens.
“Again.”
I try again and, like the first time, my wings are useless.
“Again.”
I try again. And again. And again. After doing it a couple dozen times, I begin to understand that there’s a timing to it. And then, after a few more dozen tries, my wings successfully fight gravity, if only for an extra second.
Des nods, his face serious. “Good enough.”
He takes my upper arm, leading me to the edge of the balcony.
“Goo—good enough?” I look over at him skeptically. “Good enough for what?”
The Bargainer steps onto the balcony railing.
“What are you doing?”
He steps over the ledge, and turns to face me, securing his feet in between the stone balustrade.
“Cherub, it’s alright.” He says this like he’s the most reasonable guy in the world, and not in fact the dude balancing precariously on the edge of the highest balcony in Somnia.
“I would leave you.” Even though it would ruin me, I would.
Shadows begin to coil and twist at the edges of the room. Someone doesn’t like my answer.
Des raps his knuckles against the table. “As you rightly should.”
I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it’s not that.
He straightens, sliding off the table. “Come.” He holds out his hand.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I say, staring at his palm.
He sighs. “No, Callie. I do not have a harem—I never have.”
My body relaxes, and I take his hand.
“Why not?” I ask as he leads me out.
He glances down at me, a brow raised.
“It’s an honest question.”
“And one that has many answers,” he responds smoothly as we leave.
“… Answers that you want to tell me,” I nudge.
He smiles a bit. “I do …” he admits, “but at some other time.”
We exit the library and cut across the palace grounds. Before we can so much as enter the castle proper, Des releases my hand and halts.
I stop a few paces in front from him, turning to glance back over my shoulder.
The look he wears … Des is no longer being playful or doting. He looks so very fae. Hungry for things that he wishes to possess. I know that sly, calculating look. It’s the same one he gets when he has something in mind that I might not entirely like.
“What?” I ask.
“You’ve been reading about me and my kingdom.” That does not at all explain his expression.
His gaze cuts to my bracelet.
I take a step back, the skin of my wrist prickling. Now I know that look. It’s the look he gets right before he has me repay a debt.
“Don’t.” I give him a warning look. I have no idea where his mind is at, and that, more than anything, frightens me.
He strolls forward, his heavy boots thudding against the stone. “Funny that after all I’ve demanded of you, cherub, you still think you can sway me with your protests.” Des steps in close. “You still owe me many, many favors.”
Hundreds of them, I know.
“Forcing me to do things against my will won’t make me like you more,” I say.
He leans in close. “I’ve tricked, hurt, and killed men in front of you. I’m confident a few debts that you owe me won’t damage my chances.”
I slit my eyes at him. What am I supposed to say? I do owe him favors, favors that I bought fair and square. And I am the sucker that loves Des even at his worst.
“Let me see that pretty wrist,” Des coaxes.
I don’t have time to react before his magic wraps around my arm, lifting it up. He steps in close, inspecting the remaining rows of beads.
His eyes move from my bracelet to my face. “Several weeks ago you mentioned that you wanted to see my kingdom,” he says. “Were you being serious?”
First he comments about me reading up on his kingdom, now this?
I bite the inside of my lip, not sure where he’s going with this line of questioning. Eventually, I nod. I meant it; I do want to know everything there is to know about this man, including the kingdom he rules.
“Good.” He looks all too pleased. “Then you and I are going on a little trip—”
Should I be worried? A trip doesn’t sound too bad.
“—and we’ll be flying there. Together.”
Chapter 9
I glare at Des for the millionth time as we step out onto the highest balcony of his castle, rubbing my arms against the slight chill. Right now, we’re out at the witching hour, stealing away in the night like criminals.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
Fly.
Back on earth, flying means boarding a plane. Here it literally means flapping your wings, which—shocker—I’m not too thrilled about. I mean, even birds can screw up this flying business, and I am no bird.
I glance down at my bracelet, where two beads are missing, the cost of taking a trip with Des.
Two. Beads.
He catches me glaring at my bracelet and, capturing my jaw, steals a kiss that definitely wasn’t his to take. “Cheer up, love,” he says. “This will be fun.”
Fun my ass. The only thing remotely pleasant about this experience is that Des is wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, his tattoos are on full display, and his leather pants are hugging the shit out of his backside.
I mean, I can be mad at him and still enjoy the view.
Over his shoulders, his wings expand, taking up a staggering expanse of the balcony on either side of him. They shimmer in the moonlight, his curved talons gleaming along their edges.
“Stretch your wings,” he commands.
“I’m still annoyed at you,” I say, even as I extend my wings.
The sensation of them unfolding is both uncomfortably foreign and inexplicably satisfying—like taking off a bra at the end of the day. Since my wings appeared, I’ve kept them closely pressed to my back. I hadn’t realized until now how good stretching them would feel.
“I’m aware of that,” Des says, his voice a silken caress.
He disappears. Before I can so much as swing around to look for him, I feel his warm hand run over the upper ridge of my wings. He strokes them the same way he strokes the rest of my flesh, the touch oddly erotic.
“They’re breathtaking, you know,” he says, his fingers skimming over my feathers. “Just one more tempting thing about my enchantress.”
“Enchantress?” The question slips out before I remind myself that he’s supposed to be receiving my ire right now.
“That’s what fairies have started to call you—an enchantress.”
I can’t decide whether I’m more flattered or flustered by this particular detail.
“We don’t have sirens here in the Otherworld,” Des continues, “but from time to time we do have magical beings—enchanters—who can enthrall others with their magic. It’s a very coveted power.”
He circles back in front of me, his gaze moving to my wings. “Try beating your wings.”
I groan. I’d forgotten for an instant that I was out here learning how to fly.
I do as he says, the action stirring my hair. Des watches my wingbeats shrewdly, nodding like an instructor.
“Now try jumping,” he says. “See if you can keep yourself in the air for any length of time.”
“Want me to juggle while I’m at it?” I feel like a circus sideshow.
He folds his arms and just waits.
I sigh. “Fine.”
I jump, beating my wings. Nothing impressive happens.
“Again.”
I try again and, like the first time, my wings are useless.
“Again.”
I try again. And again. And again. After doing it a couple dozen times, I begin to understand that there’s a timing to it. And then, after a few more dozen tries, my wings successfully fight gravity, if only for an extra second.
Des nods, his face serious. “Good enough.”
He takes my upper arm, leading me to the edge of the balcony.
“Goo—good enough?” I look over at him skeptically. “Good enough for what?”
The Bargainer steps onto the balcony railing.
“What are you doing?”
He steps over the ledge, and turns to face me, securing his feet in between the stone balustrade.
“Cherub, it’s alright.” He says this like he’s the most reasonable guy in the world, and not in fact the dude balancing precariously on the edge of the highest balcony in Somnia.
