Dark Harmony (The Bargainer, #4)

by Laura Thalassa

“You know I trust you, respect you, and above all else, love you. But gods give me grace, Callie, I will have a reckoning with you if you go rogue on me.”

Once they’ve been dealt with, the Night King rolls his shoulders, as if to shake off my magic. “So that’s how it feels to be glamoured by a siren,” he says, the corner of his mouth curving up just the slightest bit. “Like I’ve been caught by my balls.” He comes in close, his smirk growing. “The whole thing was horribly invasive. I rather enjoyed it.”

His eyes move over my glowing features. “Beautiful creature,” he murmurs. “You were irresistible before.” He reaches out with a hand, grazing my jaw with his knuckles. “I don’t quite know what to do with myself now.”

Des folds his arms, looking unamused. He doesn’t try to explain himself to me, which is probably a good thing—doing so would make him look guilty as fuck, and it wasn’t like he cheated on me—but damn it, I want a little groveling. Is that wrong? He will grovel, the siren insists. All right, if she thinks groveling is kosher, it’s probably wrong. But that doesn’t mean I disagree with her.

“Cherub,” Des says, his silver gaze raking me over, “care to pay my father’s tomb a visit?” So I can kick that fucker’s corpse in the balls? “Love to.”

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful or fearsome than you beguiling those fae. You are a force of nature.” I swallow. “You’re no longer immune to it.” I saw firsthand what my glamour can now do to Des. “I’m delightfully terrified of the prospect. Our sex life has just gotten ten times kinkier.” He has no idea.

“What’s the song about?” I ask. The Bargainer’s expression turns a little melancholic. “A man loses the love of his life, and he yearns for night because in dreams, they’re reunited,” he says. The two of us are quiet for a moment. “Well, that’s a fucking bummer,” I finally say. That’s the song he’s been reassuring me with this whole time? That’s like chasing away a nightmare by telling someone a ghost story.

Then, in one smooth motion, he lowers himself into the darkness. Oh, sweet Jesus, we’re going down there. Of course we are. Really don’t want to… Maybe I can just linger topside… “Don’t tell me you’ve developed a fear of the darkness now, cherub,” Des calls from below, his voice echoing. Ugh. Fine.

He leans in, but before he can kiss me, I press a hand to his mouth. “Uh-uh,” I chastise him, glamour in my voice. “You don’t get a kiss for that.” At my words, he pulls away a little, his eyes bright. “What do I get?” he says, the corner of his mouth curving into a mischievous grin. A spanking, my siren whispers. Let’s make him give himself a spanking. He’s been a bad boy. I almost laugh at the thought. “You get the pleasure of avoiding my siren’s wrath. She wants you to spank yourself.” The appropriate reaction is to be horrified at the thought. Too bad the Bargainer is decidedly inappropriate. His face fills with gleeful surprise. “Naughty thing,” he chastises. “And right here in my father’s grave too.” Now he does give me a quick kiss. “Maybe later I’ll appease your dirty thoughts.” In the dim light cast by my skin, I see him wink at me. It’s enough to mollify my siren.

“You’re not bait, love. The fire is the bait. You’re an iron-manacled trap set to crush willful fairies.” Yessss, my siren says. He understands.

“Sweet siren,” he says between kisses, “you better sharpen those claws. Tonight I don’t plan on being nice.”

“Oh my God.” Des leans in close. “Leave God out of this, cherub. He has nothing to do with it.” Sinful, sinful man.

I remove it from my stick and grab another from the s’mores supplies Des presented me with when he returned with his captive. Pretty sure this is his attempt to keep me occupied while he interrogates his prisoner. I’m ashamed to say that it’s totally working.

a necklace made of fae hair—because heaven forbid we meet someone normal here).

“Who opened the tomb?” Des repeats. “Suck on my prick!” “Mmm, tempting,” Des says, cocking his head. “Is that a genuine offer?” His magic unlaces the man’s crudely made breeches, and then it begins tugging the cloth down. The fairy’s eyes widen, and he yanks the material back up, fruitlessly trying to keep his pants on. “What in the bloody ferking gods’ names!” “Cherub,” Des says, glancing over at me, “I think the man’s shy. One moment he wants my attention, the next he’s being a coy minx.” I pull my sixth marshmallow from the fire; it’s perfectly golden brown. Success! “Men give such mixed signals,” I say.

“Cuff her with iron, and you’ll lose your balls,” Des says, pulling me back into the present. One of the soldiers hesitates, then squints at Des, a mean look in his eye. “Is that a threat?” “Nah, he’s just reciting poetry to you,” I say.

The one with the fox ears grunts, taking a nice long perusal of me, his gaze lingering on my tits, hips, and legs because apparently every criminal here has to act like a fucking cliché. His attention moves to Des, and the Fauna fae’s lip curls. “If the king can’t drain them, he doesn’t want to see them.” For a beat, nothing happens. But then Des’s magic rips across the room, throwing the banished fairies against the dank, earthen walls. Not going to lie, it’s been a real rough day for this group.

I glance over at Des, who’s beginning to pose frozen fairies like they’re Christmas reindeer, each position a little more compromising than the last.

Des kisses my forehead, and then his eyes drift up. He touches the crown I’m still wearing. “And here I thought you didn’t want to be a queen,” he says, eyeing the thing. I reach for it possessively. “It’s my war prize.” Even if it looks like something a drunk wombat made. “I must admit, you are delightfully cruel when you want to be.”

“I love you so much. You’ll never really know.” His features sharpen, and the look in his eyes intensifies. “The way fairies love… It’s the same way we live. It’s immortal, violent, irrational, and unbendable. “I understand your words, cherub, because there are aspects of my love for you that are, simply put, unfathomable.”

“Remember those horcruxes in Harry Potter?” I begin to smile in spite of myself. “Are you seriously dropping an HP reference right here, right now?” I ask, glancing over at Des. “I have your undivided attention, don’t I?” “And all my love.”

But it’s still a stupidly long walk, and now that Des and I have five billion guards hemming us in, our conversation is next to nonexistent. To be fair, I have been entertained. Des has spent most of the past hour plaiting one guard’s hair into at least fifty braids—he hasn’t yet noticed—and moving branches into another guard’s way.

I sit back down and grab my tumbler. “Is this safe to drink?” I ask, pointing to my glass. “Yes.” “Oh good.” I take a sip. “I release you from my glamour.” Janus staggers back a step. “Gods above.” Hastily, his wings disappear. “That was…” “Horribly invasive,” Des says. “I know. Isn’t my mate exquisite?”

“How do you even live with such a creature?” Janus asks, his gaze sliding back to me. Despite how shaken he is, he looks halfway interested. I smile, baring my teeth at him. “I try not to piss her off.” I guffaw at that, my skin dimming. “All right,” the Bargainer concedes, “I do try to piss her off, but only because she has especially twisted ideas of revenge.” Janus shakes his head. “You two are a fucked-up pair.”

“I should’ve listened to you,” I say thoughtfully. I drop my hand. “Back when you told me to rest.” “I happen to have great ideas,” he agrees, his mouth curving fiendishly.

“But you made the decision a queen would, putting the kingdom’s needs before your own.” “Stop using that word.” Queen. “It’s going to happen one day or other, Queen Callypso.” Okay, I’ll admit, that has a nice ring to it.

“I love you, Callie, down to every feather and scale. I love your darkness, I love your mind, I love your humor and your most coveted dreams. And I love how you love me—wholly, deeply, passionately. “You’re not normal; you’ll never be normal. I’m so sorry to tell you that. You are so blindingly extraordinary that it physically hurts me sometimes, and I’ll never stop pushing you to believe this.”

I grab a dress that looks like the dawn come to life, purples bleeding into pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows. I’ve no more than slipped it on when the dress slips itself off. Swiveling to Des, I raise an eyebrow. “Unless you want to break my vagina, I suggest you give it a rest.”

“You called out my name when you were with another?” I flush. Why had I shared that? “Cherub, I think we’re going to have to make truth or dare a regular part of our days.”

“Years I have waited for this,” he says, “anticipated it. My wife.”

After pressing a kiss to my ring finger, he slides the piece of jewelry on. The stone set into the band glows faintly; it’s no diamond. I’m not one to care about rings, but this one has me mesmerized. “What is it?” I ask, staring at the glowing stone. “I made a deal with the stars…” A deal—of course he did. I smile a little. “It’s captured starlight,” he explains, squeezing my hand. “I figured the Queen of the Night should carry a piece of her kingdom with her.”

“I’m going to marry you.” I get a little zing of excitement just saying the words. “I’m going to marry the shit out of you,” he agrees.

“Gods damn it, but we’re similar. Did I make you this way?” “You didn’t do anything”—except maybe give me a template on how to work with criminals—“I was this way before you met me.”

Des sits on the bar, drinking straight from a bottle of fancy whiskey. He’s really not supposed to be doing either, but when I told him that, he simply said, “Rules are meant to be broken.” Then he winked and took a sip of his whiskey, and I spontaneously orgasmed. Okay, the last one didn’t happen, but it was a near thing.

“And mountains may rise and fall, and the sun may wither away, and the sea claim the land and swallow the sky. But you will always be mine. And the stars may fall from the heavens, and night may cloak the earth, but until darkness dies, I will always be yours.”

I set the bottle down and reach out, taking Temper’s hand. “God, I love you.” “Are you drunk? You are such a lightweight.” “Seriously, Temper?” That’s her response to me pledging my love to her? “You ingrate. I’m not drunk.” She squeezes my hand. “I love you too, Callie, even if you go to earth and do body shots without me.” “Hey, I invited you to the wedding.” “Only because you needed an ordained minister.”

Like moonbeams and shadows. That’s how he tastes, how he feels. As though the dark universe itself came together one day and decided to form a man. He still doesn’t seem real. I hope he never does.

Galleghar’s eyes narrow. “Did you come here to kill me too?” “Well, I didn’t come for the weather,” Janus replies.

I slide my trusted daggers into their sheaths on either side of my hips while Temper picks up a double-headed axe. “Look,” she says, “it’s lady sized for my wee woman fingers.” I snicker. The weapon is small. Temper slides the axe into a holster at her back. Guess its wee size works.

“I will kill you,” he says, staggering forward. “No, you won’t,” I say calmly. “What you will do is receive a shower, get some new clothes, and help us.” “You bitch—” “I don’t need your tongue, so unless you want to lose it, you will continue to speak to me and my sorceress friend here in the most reverential of ways.” “I want him to call me Great Goddess. Can you make that happen?” Temper says to me. Staring at Galleghar, I say, “You will refer to the sorceress from here on out as My Great Goddess of Fuckery and Other Magical Things. Understood?” If Galleghar could spit fire right now, he would. Instead, he nods sharply, his nostrils flaring.

“Where’s the Pit?” Temper asks, looking around. “Up ahead…My Great Goddess of Fuckery and Other Magical Things.” He mumbles the last part. “Speak up,” I command. His eyes shoot daggers at me. “I said, it’s up ahead…Oh Dark Queen Who Thinks I’m a Douchebucket of the Most Epic Proportions.” Temper smirks. “What’s your name again?” she asks him. He curls his lip at her. “Callie?” Temper says, calling for a little assistance. “Answer her,” I order. He grinds his teeth. “Galleghar O’Malleghar, King of Asshats, Killer of Boners, Wannabe Emperor Who Needs to Eat a Bag of Dicks and Die.” The titles clearly got a little out of hand.

I stare at them as they approach. “What are they?” “Reaves,” says Galleghar with no little amount of distaste. “They’re the overseers of the Pit, Oh Dark Queen Who Thinks I’m a Douchebucket of the Most Epic Proportions.”

Ahead of us, the comforter slides back from the bed. I give Des the side-eye. “That’s a bit presumptuous.” “No, cherub. This is presumptuous.” The top button on my pants pops open, and my zipper slides down. My shirt tugs itself up. My skin brightens with interest because even after all these years, my siren is still a hussy when it comes to Des. The King of the Night laughs and scoops me up before tossing me lightly onto the bed. “Phew,” he says. “I’ve still got it.”