For so long I thought something was wrong with me emotionally. That I couldn’t love fully, that I couldn’t be myself. That I was weak. Here in this man’s arms, I realize for the first time in a long time that I’m not broken. Not even close.
I’m his mate.
He’s mine.
My hands slide up his corded back, then run along his arms, drinking in each one of his sculpted muscles.
The Bargainer bends down and nips at my breast, and suddenly I’m right there on the edge of an orgasm that’s been building long before Des even entered me.
As if he can sense how close I am, Desmond deepens each thrust, his eyes riveted to me. He dips down and kisses me roughly.
“I like this look on you, cherub,” he says. “And knowing I’m responsible for it.”
My arms tighten around him, pulling him closer as my eyes close and my mouth parts.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he says. “I want to see everything I do to you.”
A burst of magic courses through me, forcing my eyes open.
“Desmond,” is all I have time to say before my orgasm rips through me.
I cry out, the sound its own sort of melody. My skin shimmers, its glow reflected in Desmond’s eyes.
The Bargainer’s thrusts become faster until his body stills. And then, with a groan, an orgasm racks his body, forcing him into me harder and deeper than before.
As soon as he finishes, he rolls next to me and gathers me into his arms. He holds me tightly to him, like he can’t bear even an inch of our skin apart. His skin is still slick with sweat, and mine is slowly dimming as the last remnants of my orgasm are replaced by a satiated exhaustion. He smells like me, and I smell like him.
He looks at me, wearing a wondrous expression. His eyes are happy, so unbearably happy.
“My siren,” he says. “My mate. The years I’ve waited for you.”
I can’t stop the grin that spreads along my face lying in the Bargainer’s arms. For the first time in my life my world has felt unequivocally right.
One of Des’s fingers traces my lips, his gaze transfixed on me.
“Why didn’t you say anything that first day you came back to me?” I ask curiously. That could’ve saved us so much angst.
He huffs out a laugh. “If only, cherub. I wanted to, but you hadn’t seen me in seven years, were currently in a relationship, and pretty much wanted to flay my ass alive. My options were limited.”
I smile a little at that.
He pulls me closer. “Ah, I would give my kingdom for that smile alone.”
I could bathe in Des’s words. Words that normally taunt and tease and coax. Words that have seduced me over and over again. Tonight they’re the sweetest serenade.
I run my fingers over his sleeve of tattoos. “What do all these mean?” There’s a rose melting into tears. There are angels and smoke and scales that morph into an eye. All of it twists and turns down his shoulder and arm. It’s beautiful and macabre.
Des strokes my hair, his eyes still full of uncharacteristic softness. It’s a strange look on the normally terrifying Bargainer. It’s a look I never want to leave his face.
He hesitates before answering. “I got them when I was a part of the Angels of Small Death,” he finally says. “A brotherhood of sorts.”
That has me craning my neck to peer at him. “You were in a gang?” I ask, putting together what he isn’t saying.
He smiles wryly. “Semantics. We policed the streets when the Kingdom of Night was … under different leadership.” He glances down at his sleeve, a frown forming. “It was a long time ago.”
He really was a thug before he was ever a king. I don’t know what exactly to make of it, except it seems somewhat fitting.
Fitting and petrifying.
“I thought you were a king,” I say.
“I am a king.”
“I thought you were always a king,” I clarify.
“Disappointed?” he asks. His body stiffens, on edge.
I never realized just how much my words affect him.
I trace the lines of the weeping rose. “Not at all.” I like the idea that this man didn’t grow up in a castle. “I don’t think I could’ve dealt with an entitled Desmond Flynn.”
A blatant lie. I would’ve taken Des just about any way he came—I had taken Des without fully understanding his past.
But to know that he ruled the streets in the Otherworld like he ruled the streets here … It makes me appreciate who he is all the more. There’s undoubtedly a sad story behind his past. Just like mine.
I hug him closer. “Tell me another secret,” I say.
I can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “The night I first met you, I couldn’t get you out of my head …”
I fall off to sleep to a soundtrack of the Bargainer’s most intimate secrets.
In the early hours of morning, Des wakes me up. Rolling over me, he begins kissing me, his lips demanding.
I feel him hard against me, ready to go.
I moan a little, the siren in me already waking up. “Again?” I say, opening my arms to him even as I speak. “Aren’t you even a little tired?”
I already throb from the two previous times tonight that he’s woken me up. But in spite of myself, I smile like a cat that’s licked up all the cream, utterly pleased.
Des lets out a husky laugh. “Cherub, there are benefits to being the Night King’s mate.”
I’m his mate.
He’s mine.
My hands slide up his corded back, then run along his arms, drinking in each one of his sculpted muscles.
The Bargainer bends down and nips at my breast, and suddenly I’m right there on the edge of an orgasm that’s been building long before Des even entered me.
As if he can sense how close I am, Desmond deepens each thrust, his eyes riveted to me. He dips down and kisses me roughly.
“I like this look on you, cherub,” he says. “And knowing I’m responsible for it.”
My arms tighten around him, pulling him closer as my eyes close and my mouth parts.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he says. “I want to see everything I do to you.”
A burst of magic courses through me, forcing my eyes open.
“Desmond,” is all I have time to say before my orgasm rips through me.
I cry out, the sound its own sort of melody. My skin shimmers, its glow reflected in Desmond’s eyes.
The Bargainer’s thrusts become faster until his body stills. And then, with a groan, an orgasm racks his body, forcing him into me harder and deeper than before.
As soon as he finishes, he rolls next to me and gathers me into his arms. He holds me tightly to him, like he can’t bear even an inch of our skin apart. His skin is still slick with sweat, and mine is slowly dimming as the last remnants of my orgasm are replaced by a satiated exhaustion. He smells like me, and I smell like him.
He looks at me, wearing a wondrous expression. His eyes are happy, so unbearably happy.
“My siren,” he says. “My mate. The years I’ve waited for you.”
I can’t stop the grin that spreads along my face lying in the Bargainer’s arms. For the first time in my life my world has felt unequivocally right.
One of Des’s fingers traces my lips, his gaze transfixed on me.
“Why didn’t you say anything that first day you came back to me?” I ask curiously. That could’ve saved us so much angst.
He huffs out a laugh. “If only, cherub. I wanted to, but you hadn’t seen me in seven years, were currently in a relationship, and pretty much wanted to flay my ass alive. My options were limited.”
I smile a little at that.
He pulls me closer. “Ah, I would give my kingdom for that smile alone.”
I could bathe in Des’s words. Words that normally taunt and tease and coax. Words that have seduced me over and over again. Tonight they’re the sweetest serenade.
I run my fingers over his sleeve of tattoos. “What do all these mean?” There’s a rose melting into tears. There are angels and smoke and scales that morph into an eye. All of it twists and turns down his shoulder and arm. It’s beautiful and macabre.
Des strokes my hair, his eyes still full of uncharacteristic softness. It’s a strange look on the normally terrifying Bargainer. It’s a look I never want to leave his face.
He hesitates before answering. “I got them when I was a part of the Angels of Small Death,” he finally says. “A brotherhood of sorts.”
That has me craning my neck to peer at him. “You were in a gang?” I ask, putting together what he isn’t saying.
He smiles wryly. “Semantics. We policed the streets when the Kingdom of Night was … under different leadership.” He glances down at his sleeve, a frown forming. “It was a long time ago.”
He really was a thug before he was ever a king. I don’t know what exactly to make of it, except it seems somewhat fitting.
Fitting and petrifying.
“I thought you were a king,” I say.
“I am a king.”
“I thought you were always a king,” I clarify.
“Disappointed?” he asks. His body stiffens, on edge.
I never realized just how much my words affect him.
I trace the lines of the weeping rose. “Not at all.” I like the idea that this man didn’t grow up in a castle. “I don’t think I could’ve dealt with an entitled Desmond Flynn.”
A blatant lie. I would’ve taken Des just about any way he came—I had taken Des without fully understanding his past.
But to know that he ruled the streets in the Otherworld like he ruled the streets here … It makes me appreciate who he is all the more. There’s undoubtedly a sad story behind his past. Just like mine.
I hug him closer. “Tell me another secret,” I say.
I can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “The night I first met you, I couldn’t get you out of my head …”
I fall off to sleep to a soundtrack of the Bargainer’s most intimate secrets.
In the early hours of morning, Des wakes me up. Rolling over me, he begins kissing me, his lips demanding.
I feel him hard against me, ready to go.
I moan a little, the siren in me already waking up. “Again?” I say, opening my arms to him even as I speak. “Aren’t you even a little tired?”
I already throb from the two previous times tonight that he’s woken me up. But in spite of myself, I smile like a cat that’s licked up all the cream, utterly pleased.
Des lets out a husky laugh. “Cherub, there are benefits to being the Night King’s mate.”
