Dark Harmony
Page 47
“How do you want it—on the floor, against the wall, or over the counter?”
Christ. My skin begins to glow as my siren awakens, drawn by sex and magic.
His hand dips into my pants and cups my sex. “Or would you rather I choose for you?”
I gasp, my hands coming to his upper arms, my fingers digging in.
It takes little effort for him to slide my panties aside and dip a finger into my core. “I’m taking that as choose for me.”
“Des.”
He’s feral and overwhelming and silver-tongued and so very, very fae.
A second finger dips in. I moan at the sensation.
My fingernails sharpen as I clutch him, my claws pricking his skin. My nails dig deeper, and the King of the Night grins when they pierce his flesh.
We really are a twisted pair, getting off on blood and sex.
My breath is coming in pants, my legs parting wider as I urge him on.
His nose and lips brush my flush cheeks. “Or perhaps I’ll choose none of that. How I do love seeing you fall apart at my touch. Perhaps my touch is all you’ll get.” He nips at my chin, toying with me. Clearly enjoying that I’m clay in his hands right now, ready to be molded into whatever shape he wants.
A minute ago I wasn’t thinking of sex, now I’m lamenting the slow torture of him burning me up without properly filling me.
I begin to reach for his pants when he catches my wrist and pins it to the wall.
“Ah ah. That’s not how this works.” Des kisses my neck then moves his attention to my mouth, tasting like liquor and dark deeds. All the while his deft fingers stroke me up and down.
He takes my lower lip between his teeth, rolling it around, his clever eyes particularly devious.
He releases my lip.
“Come against my hand,” Des demands.
It’s the same pushy order he used to give me back when I had a bracelet of beads.
And even though the bracelet is long gone, I feel the Bargainer’s magic bloom between my legs, strange and forbidden.
My knees go weak as my orgasm is pulled from me, sweeping through my system. The pleasure is violent and sudden. It seems to stretch on and on, and even once the waves of it abate, the comedown seems to last a lifetime.
I lean my head against the wall, breathless and flushed. “You are such a bastard,” I murmur.
“Awww, you don’t really mean that, cherub,” Des says, removing his fingers from my panties. He places the two of them in his mouth, licking them clean.
Have I mentioned how dirty he is?
It only takes a minute or so for me to regroup from getting fingered within an inch of my life. My siren is riding high. Far from being satiated, she’s only just gotten a taste of sex.
Pushing off the wall, I prowl over to the Bargainer. Taking his jaw gruffly, I kiss his mouth.
“For a guy that specializes in favors, your repayment plans lately could use some work,” I say, tapping the side of his jaw with a clawed forefinger.
I’m sure I look just as devious as he does.
Releasing his jaw, I kneel down in front of him.
“Callie …”
I begin to unbutton his pants, glancing up at him. Des’s eyes are crackling with desire; Des wants to tell me to stop, but he also wants my lips around his cock—and he wants that very badly.
The zipper makes a hissing noise as I pull it down. “Lucky for you, when it comes to repayment, I’m willing to help.”
Chapter 25
The world forms from chaos, blurs of color sharpening until they become things.
The first thing I notice is the tickle of wheat against my open palm. Then it’s the vivid blue sky bearing down on me.
Then it’s the Thief.
He walks through the fields dressed in black, looking like a reaper come to collect my soul. Like the last dream, seeing him this way is disarming. If you take the monster living under your bed and put it in broad daylight, what then?
He comes up to me, uncomfortably close. This is where I cringe away from him, where I revolt.
“You went to bed with one man, and woke with another. How very confusing,” he says.
I’m not awake. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but then I hesitate.
I get the uncanny feeling that this is what I’m supposed to say. That the Thief has our entire interaction choreographed, and it’s all a part of our little game.
Only, I no longer want to play.
I’m done revolting, done being scared, done acting according to some pre-ordained script.
Rather than responding, I squint at our surroundings.
From horizon to horizon it’s endless golden fields rippling under a painfully blue sky. The sifting sounds of wind sing through the wheat.
“How do you choose where we meet?” I ask.
His hair stirs as he answers, “Whatever pleases me in the moment, that’s what I choose.”
As my eyes take in that sharp blue sky, clouds begin to roll on the horizon. They move unnaturally swift, gathering on each other.
The Thief of Souls can build dreamscapes and wear the faces of the dead. Two staggering powers.
The clouds darken like bruises until they’ve shadowed the land. The sky splits open above us, and the heavens unleash. Lightning flashes and thunder booms.
Rain pelts down on me, and the wind lashes against my body, whipping my hair about. I feel like I’m at the center of some terrible vortex, and the magnitude of it all is dizzyingly beautiful.
“Does it frighten you?” the Thief asks. He watches me carefully, the wind and rain tearing at him.
No.
I turn to him, my wet hair slapping at my skin. “Do you want it to?”
An enigmatic smile crosses his face and his eyes flash alongside the lightning.
Just as swiftly as the storm moves in, it retreats. The rain stops, the sky clears, and the sun peeks out again.
“I think you have better things to fear from me.” He begins to circle me. “Things worse than death.”
I remember Karnon’s prison, the women shackled in iron, raped by the Thief, slowly losing themselves to his dark magic. I think of the soldier I interviewed.
It’s dark here. Very dark.
I want to rest. Why can’t I rest?
He comes back to my front. “I will never leave you alone, enchantress. Never. Banish the hope if you have it. You cannot ever escape my clutches. Not even in death.”
I search his dark eyes. “What have I done?”
Is it being a siren? Is it as simple and as shallow as pretty skin molded over pretty bones? Or is it something more specific to me? Something that went wrong long ago?
There’s a part of me, a long dormant part of me, that’s awakening. It should’ve been pulled free back in high school, when my powers blossomed, or when Karnon altered me, or even when Des fed me the lilac wine, but it wasn’t.
It didn’t happen then, but I can feel it now, some long buried strength upwelling from deep within me.
The Thief tilts his head. “What have you done?” he echoes. “You have enlivened me. You make me feel the blood rushing through my veins.” He steps in close. “You have aroused me. Dirty human, beautiful woman, unlikely enchantress. You have caught my attention, and I will enjoy you for a time.”
I’m not going to escape him.
This is the one simple truth I’d been denying for so long, and now I face it.
I’m really not going to escape him. One day soon, I will have to face the Thief, not in a dream, but in waking life. A reckoning is coming for us, and by the end of it, one of us will be the victor, and one, the vanquished.
Christ. My skin begins to glow as my siren awakens, drawn by sex and magic.
His hand dips into my pants and cups my sex. “Or would you rather I choose for you?”
I gasp, my hands coming to his upper arms, my fingers digging in.
It takes little effort for him to slide my panties aside and dip a finger into my core. “I’m taking that as choose for me.”
“Des.”
He’s feral and overwhelming and silver-tongued and so very, very fae.
A second finger dips in. I moan at the sensation.
My fingernails sharpen as I clutch him, my claws pricking his skin. My nails dig deeper, and the King of the Night grins when they pierce his flesh.
We really are a twisted pair, getting off on blood and sex.
My breath is coming in pants, my legs parting wider as I urge him on.
His nose and lips brush my flush cheeks. “Or perhaps I’ll choose none of that. How I do love seeing you fall apart at my touch. Perhaps my touch is all you’ll get.” He nips at my chin, toying with me. Clearly enjoying that I’m clay in his hands right now, ready to be molded into whatever shape he wants.
A minute ago I wasn’t thinking of sex, now I’m lamenting the slow torture of him burning me up without properly filling me.
I begin to reach for his pants when he catches my wrist and pins it to the wall.
“Ah ah. That’s not how this works.” Des kisses my neck then moves his attention to my mouth, tasting like liquor and dark deeds. All the while his deft fingers stroke me up and down.
He takes my lower lip between his teeth, rolling it around, his clever eyes particularly devious.
He releases my lip.
“Come against my hand,” Des demands.
It’s the same pushy order he used to give me back when I had a bracelet of beads.
And even though the bracelet is long gone, I feel the Bargainer’s magic bloom between my legs, strange and forbidden.
My knees go weak as my orgasm is pulled from me, sweeping through my system. The pleasure is violent and sudden. It seems to stretch on and on, and even once the waves of it abate, the comedown seems to last a lifetime.
I lean my head against the wall, breathless and flushed. “You are such a bastard,” I murmur.
“Awww, you don’t really mean that, cherub,” Des says, removing his fingers from my panties. He places the two of them in his mouth, licking them clean.
Have I mentioned how dirty he is?
It only takes a minute or so for me to regroup from getting fingered within an inch of my life. My siren is riding high. Far from being satiated, she’s only just gotten a taste of sex.
Pushing off the wall, I prowl over to the Bargainer. Taking his jaw gruffly, I kiss his mouth.
“For a guy that specializes in favors, your repayment plans lately could use some work,” I say, tapping the side of his jaw with a clawed forefinger.
I’m sure I look just as devious as he does.
Releasing his jaw, I kneel down in front of him.
“Callie …”
I begin to unbutton his pants, glancing up at him. Des’s eyes are crackling with desire; Des wants to tell me to stop, but he also wants my lips around his cock—and he wants that very badly.
The zipper makes a hissing noise as I pull it down. “Lucky for you, when it comes to repayment, I’m willing to help.”
Chapter 25
The world forms from chaos, blurs of color sharpening until they become things.
The first thing I notice is the tickle of wheat against my open palm. Then it’s the vivid blue sky bearing down on me.
Then it’s the Thief.
He walks through the fields dressed in black, looking like a reaper come to collect my soul. Like the last dream, seeing him this way is disarming. If you take the monster living under your bed and put it in broad daylight, what then?
He comes up to me, uncomfortably close. This is where I cringe away from him, where I revolt.
“You went to bed with one man, and woke with another. How very confusing,” he says.
I’m not awake. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but then I hesitate.
I get the uncanny feeling that this is what I’m supposed to say. That the Thief has our entire interaction choreographed, and it’s all a part of our little game.
Only, I no longer want to play.
I’m done revolting, done being scared, done acting according to some pre-ordained script.
Rather than responding, I squint at our surroundings.
From horizon to horizon it’s endless golden fields rippling under a painfully blue sky. The sifting sounds of wind sing through the wheat.
“How do you choose where we meet?” I ask.
His hair stirs as he answers, “Whatever pleases me in the moment, that’s what I choose.”
As my eyes take in that sharp blue sky, clouds begin to roll on the horizon. They move unnaturally swift, gathering on each other.
The Thief of Souls can build dreamscapes and wear the faces of the dead. Two staggering powers.
The clouds darken like bruises until they’ve shadowed the land. The sky splits open above us, and the heavens unleash. Lightning flashes and thunder booms.
Rain pelts down on me, and the wind lashes against my body, whipping my hair about. I feel like I’m at the center of some terrible vortex, and the magnitude of it all is dizzyingly beautiful.
“Does it frighten you?” the Thief asks. He watches me carefully, the wind and rain tearing at him.
No.
I turn to him, my wet hair slapping at my skin. “Do you want it to?”
An enigmatic smile crosses his face and his eyes flash alongside the lightning.
Just as swiftly as the storm moves in, it retreats. The rain stops, the sky clears, and the sun peeks out again.
“I think you have better things to fear from me.” He begins to circle me. “Things worse than death.”
I remember Karnon’s prison, the women shackled in iron, raped by the Thief, slowly losing themselves to his dark magic. I think of the soldier I interviewed.
It’s dark here. Very dark.
I want to rest. Why can’t I rest?
He comes back to my front. “I will never leave you alone, enchantress. Never. Banish the hope if you have it. You cannot ever escape my clutches. Not even in death.”
I search his dark eyes. “What have I done?”
Is it being a siren? Is it as simple and as shallow as pretty skin molded over pretty bones? Or is it something more specific to me? Something that went wrong long ago?
There’s a part of me, a long dormant part of me, that’s awakening. It should’ve been pulled free back in high school, when my powers blossomed, or when Karnon altered me, or even when Des fed me the lilac wine, but it wasn’t.
It didn’t happen then, but I can feel it now, some long buried strength upwelling from deep within me.
The Thief tilts his head. “What have you done?” he echoes. “You have enlivened me. You make me feel the blood rushing through my veins.” He steps in close. “You have aroused me. Dirty human, beautiful woman, unlikely enchantress. You have caught my attention, and I will enjoy you for a time.”
I’m not going to escape him.
This is the one simple truth I’d been denying for so long, and now I face it.
I’m really not going to escape him. One day soon, I will have to face the Thief, not in a dream, but in waking life. A reckoning is coming for us, and by the end of it, one of us will be the victor, and one, the vanquished.
