A Strange Hymn
Page 28

“Yeah, back when I was seventeen. I was also all about orange lipstick then too.” She shudders at the memory, kneeling in front of a hutch pressed to the side of the room.
“Aha!” she says, opening its doors. “Here we are.” She grabs a bottle with shimmery lettering. Uncorking it, she gives it a sniff.
She winces a little. “Ugh, smells like leprechaun piss, but it’ll do.”
Not even going to ask about the leprechaun comment.
She takes a swig straight from the bottle before offering it to me.
I wave it away.
“So,” she plops down on an ornate side chair, “Mal-a-ki.” She stretches out his name, waggling her eyebrows.
I groan, falling onto her bed. “Nooo.”
“No, what?” she says, some sass entering her voice.
I grab one of her pillows, tucking it under my chest. “I already know how this will play out: You’re going to screw him, then screw him over, and then he’s going to be huffy, and he’ll take it out on me because I’m your best friend.”
She gives me the side-eye, taking a swig from her bottle. “It would serve you right, you skinny little shit. I’ve had to deal with Eli since you broke things off with him, and that hairy motherfucker has had a bone to pick with me—pun unintended.”
Oops. Temper has a point. Our business, West Coast Investigations, contracted some of our work out to Eli, who was a supernatural bounty hunter. I assumed that our relationship—or lack thereof—wouldn’t affect our work.
Clearly I assumed wrong.
“So,” Temper continues, “does he have a girlfriend?”
“Eli?” I lift a shoulder. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Bitch, you and I both know I ain’t talking about Eli. Malaki.”
Poor fairy. Seems he’s going to have more to do with Temper in the coming days whether he wants to or not. She’s a force of nature when she wants to be.
“No clue,” I say.
I don’t even know if fairies have girlfriends or boyfriends. They seem like the kind of creatures to have courtships rather than dates, and betrotheds rather than significant others. And apparently, if you’re a ruler, harems.
I suppress my shudder.
“Hmmm …” Temper takes another swig from the bottle, completely oblivious to where my mind is at.
The urge to drink rises in me. Damn Des for forcing me to be sober. I could use a little liquor for this conversation.
“Is the eyepatch real?” she asks.
I just give Temper a look.
“It is, isn’t it?” She says this like it’s some kind of great revelation. “I want to see what’s under it.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re seriously disturbed?”
“Says the girl who loves to fuck bad men. How is the Bargainer in bed? I bet the dude is grade-A nasty.”
I could definitely use a little liquor for this conversation.
“Temper, I don’t want to kiss and tell.”
“What? You always kiss and tell.”
That was back when the men didn’t matter and it was fun to laugh about some of the sexual situations I got myself into. But intimacy with Des … it feels different, sacred.
“It’s the best I’ve ever had,” I admit primly, “and that’s all I’m going to say.”
Temper eyes me over the bottle. “Shi-it, and here I thought this guy was a bad influence.”
“Oh, he’s still a bad influence,” I say, my eyes going distant.
Des might be my soulmate, but he’s still the man that tricks me into jumping off buildings, who kills remorselessly, who uses sex to collect repayment.
“Whatever you say.”
The two of us talk for a bit more. It’s only once the alcohol hits Temper’s system and makes her sleepy that I tuck her into bed and steal away from her room.
I spend an extra few seconds quietly closing her door.
“You have some explaining to do.”
I cover my mouth to muffle my yelp.
Leaning against the hallway wall is Des.
He strides towards me, and like a fool I begin to back up. When his eyes glint the way they do now, I can tell he’s right on the edge that separates sanity and madness, humanity and his fae cruelty.
He’s on me in an instant, pinning me to the wall.
“Let’s try this again,” he says, nipping my ear. “You have some explaining to do.” He presses a leg between mine, the movement rubbing against my core. “Now, do you want to start with the fact that you did not listen to my instructions when we were on the balcony earlier, or the fact that you nearly got yourself killed by facing down an angry sorceress?”
I swallow delicately. I knew this was coming.
“I could’ve—” His voice breaks. “I could’ve lost you,” he says harshly. “If you had been hurt … I wouldn’t have even had time to administer lilac wine.”
This is where I apologize for frightening him, and it’s where I thank him for his faith in me.
Only, I never get the chance.
Des’s face bricks itself up until the suave, cunning Bargainer stares back at me. “Or perhaps,” Des continues, “we should just skip the explanations and move onto repayment.”
Repayment?
Suddenly, the Bargainer no longer has me pinned to the wall. He lifts first one of my legs, then the other, wrapping them securely around his waist.
“Des—” I say, now beginning to get nervous.
Just what exactly does he have in mind?
He begins to walk, holding me to him. “Let’s try listening to instructions all over again: this time, when I give them to you, you’re going to follow them.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you planning?”
He flashes me a dark, smoldering look. “You’ll see soon enough, cherub.”
He heads up the hallway and down another, all the while, I’m pinned in his arms. I don’t bother trying to squirm away, mostly because I know he wants me to, and also because last time I tried to get out of this position, he used his magic on me.
So instead I let him carry me. I’m no featherweight. If he wants to exhaust himself lugging me around, he can be my guest.
Eventually he kicks open a set of double doors, leading out to yet another one of the palace’s many balconies.
Cool evening air blows in at my back, ruffling my feathers and stirring my hair.
“If you toss me off the balcony …” I warn.
He doesn’t wait for me to finish my threat. One moment he’s on solid ground, the next, the two of us are spiraling into the air, me still in his arms.
Aight, so Des isn’t planning on tossing me from a balcony … he’s planning on dropping me from the sky.
Only, he doesn’t let me go.
I stare him in the eye, the two of us locked together.
“What now?” I ask.
His eyes glitter.
That’s about the time I feel my clothes loosen, just as they did in Lephys.
What in the … ?
My fae attire essentially melts off my body. I let out a squeak, trying to grab at the remnants of my clothes. It’s no use; they slip through my fingers like grains of sand.
Good thing I’d already stowed away my daggers; otherwise, Des’s little gift would be long gone.
I glance below us, watching the shimmering fabric fall down to Somnia. Already, we’re too high up to see where it lands.
The night air caresses my bare skin. It feels like skinny dipping, the sensation strange and new and not altogether unpleasant. I’d be embarrassed over the exposure, except we’re too high in the sky and the night is too dark for anyone to see us.