“Des.” I’m supposed to say his name like a warning, but instead it comes out like a purr.

Fuck. Pre-coffee, my hold on my siren is not so great.

“Why, hello love,” he says, giving me a smile that he saves for just my siren. These two have a major thing for each other. Even when I was a teenager and Des made it clear he didn’t go there, he was extra indulgent to her.

And now my hold on her is slipping … slipping …

Gone.

I walk over to him, swaying my hips a little, my skin glowing. I don’t stop until I’m climbing into his lap, my legs straddling him.

I take the mug he’s holding and toss it over my shoulder. He lifts a hand, presumably to stop it and the coffee inside it from crashing against the floor.

I lean in close to his ear, shifting my hips until I hear him groan. “Seven years, you fucker,” I say—or rather, the siren says, since she’s leading the show at this point.

His hands fall to my waist. “The best things are worth waiting for, Callie.”

I wind my arms behind his neck. “Truth or dare?”

His eyes are heated, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Trying to play my—”

“Truth: Had you bothered to stick around, I would have given you every single one of your wickedest desires.” I move my hips against him to punctuate my words.

I feel him react, something that brings me no little pleasure.

Leaning in extra close, my tongue tastes the shell of his ear. “And I know my dark king has many wicked desires,” I whisper.

I turn his face to mine, pulling it to me until only the barest bit of distance separates our lips.

But instead of kissing him, I say, “I’m going to make you ache, and ache, and ache, and I will do nothing to alleviate it. I’m going to make you pay for leaving me.”

I step off of him and saunter away.

“Cherub,” Des says at my back, “I will enjoy every sweet second of it.”

It’s not until I get several good swallows of coffee in me that the siren goes away completely.

“Gods, did I miss your siren,” Des says.

Typical that a fairy would miss the most sinister, mischievous part of me.

I grumble as I make myself at home in his kitchen, toasting some mini waffles and searching the cupboards for syrup.

He really does know my favorite foods.

The cupboard above me opens, and the syrup floats out. I catch it.

“Thanks,” I say over my shoulder.

“Mmm.”

I’m playing house with the Bargainer. And it feels so … normal.

Once I finish preparing my waffles, I head back over to the table.

“Now both of our names are on the Wanted List,” Des says when I sit down next to him.

It takes a second for to compute. “Wait, I’m on the Wanted List?”

Des passes me his tablet, and sure enough, there I am. Number eighty-six.

I feel my jaw hanging open. “Seriously, what the actual fuck?”

Eli has lost his damn mind. He broke into my house and shifted, placing me and Des in mortal danger. And the asshole has the audacity to put me on the Wanted List?

A second later, I realize that Temper has surely seen the list, which means she must be going ballistic. I reach for my phone, only to remember that I never had a chance to grab it last night.

I turn my attention back to my listing, tapping on the link. The charges include illegally using glamour and consorting with the Bargainer. It’s the latter charge that got me on the list, of that I’m sure.

My gaze rises to Des as I hand his tablet back to him. There’s murder in his eyes.

I know that look. Fae vengeance.

Over the years, Des has left a trail of mangled bodies in his wake, from clients that tried to cross him to enemies that tried to kill him. He’s even disfigured at least one man that tried to harm me on my behalf.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” I say, “don’t, Des. Please.”

His hand tightens on his tablet. “You plead for that dog even now?”

“I’d prefer to not find him chopped up into tiny little bits.”

“That’s too good a death for the bastard,” the Bargainer says darkly, tossing his tablet onto the table.

“Des, you are not killing him.” Of all conversations I imagined having today, this wasn’t one of them.

He leans forward, wisps of shadow curling around him. “It is not in my nature to be lenient,” he says, his voice low. “So if you want to ensure his safety, you’re going to have grant me a favor.”

“What do you want?” I ask, shoving a slice of waffle into my mouth.

He just stares and stares. “I think you already know.”

The waffle gets lodged in my throat.

Give me a chance, his eyes plead.

He really does want more than just a kiss.

“Why, Des?” The question I always come back to.

He studies me for a long moment. “Eventually, I will tell you,” he admits. “But … not today.” He takes a satisfied sip of coffee.

I eye him. “You’re so lucky my glamour doesn’t work on you.”

He sets his cup down, and I try to ignore the way his arms tighten at the motion.

“You would use it on me?” he asks.

“Absolutely.”

Now he smiles, the look almost feral. “That pleases me greatly, cherub.”

It’s responses like that, that make me worried.

“So,” I say between bites of waffle, “you’re here and it’s daylight.”