Des’s gaze is on me for a hot second, and then, in the blink of an eye, Des disappears, both champagne flutes he held a second ago falling once more to the ground. They shatter, glass and bubbly wine soaking the floor and the hem of my dress. Des reappears in front of Janus, the air around my mate cloaked in shadow, his talon-tipped wings splayed out. Shadows billow about the room, beginning in the far corners and creeping between fairies’ legs like some sinister dark fog.
