A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer Book 2)

by Laura Thalassa

  The Green Man stands a little too close, and my hand twitches with the need to push him away a few feet.

  “I know.”

  Drop the subject, Green Man. Please, for the love of baby angels, drop the subject.

  “I would think that, as future queen of the Kingdom of Night, you yourself would be open to … hedonistic pursuits.”

  I don’t know if he’s propositioning me, or just feeling me out, but ugh, this guy is creepy.

  I grimace. “I’m not.”

  Mara grabs one of the men nearest her, kissing him deeply on the dance floor while another man squeezes her breast.

  … And her mate stands at my side, watching the entire thing go down.

  The ick factor of this situation is off the charts.

  “Once you get past the unusual nature of it, I think you’ll find that it can be very liberating. I’ve had many, many lovers—though never a human woman.”

  Alright, that was definitely a proposition.

  I down my wine, and when that doesn’t make the situation immediately better (it was worth a try), I push the Green Man back several steps. “You need to back up, buddy.”

  And I need more wine. I need all the wine.

  “So, what does the King of the Night intend to do with you, a mortal?” he asks, smirking down at me, his chest still pressed against my hand.

  I look at the Green Man, really look at him. “Excuse me?” What kind question is that? I’m Des’s mate, not some new hire.

  “Producing heirs,” the Green Man muses aloud, “that would be at the top of his mind, especially given his age and your fertility …”

  Producing heirs?

  Producing—heirs?

  I feel like I’m pressing the fast-forward button on my brain, my thoughts racing by at warp speed until they stop at one very poignant realization.

  Des and I have been having unprotected sex.

  Des and I have been having unprotected sex.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  There’s suddenly not enough wine in the world for this conversation.

  My hand drops from the Green Man’s chest.

  I haven’t been using birth control. Des hasn’t been wearing condoms.

  Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

  What sort of loser just forgets about these things?

  It’s a trick question because obviously this bitch right here is the loser that does.

  Des and I have never talked about the subject of children, aside from one confession he forced out of me weeks ago, where I admitted that I wanted to children with him.

  But not this second.

  What if, oh God, what if … what if I’m pregnant?

  The Green Man’s voice drifts in. “… fae aren’t particularly fertile, but humans are.”

  Gah, this dude won’t shut up about it. Where is the eject button for this conversation?

  I catch sight of Temper, who is entering the ballroom, self-consciously straightening her dress.

  There is my escape.

  “Temper—Temper!” I call out, the panic clear in my voice.

  She whips about, searching the crowd until she sees me. My best friend takes one look at my expression and another at the man next to me, and bless her to the ends of the earth, she begins to slip through the crowd, a determined look on her face.

  “Are you alright?” the Green Man says, his eyes bright with excitement rather than concern.

  As if he’s unaware of the effect his words have on me.

  My eyes search the crowd, falling on Des, whose back is to me. He’s the one I should really talk about this with, but he’s trapped in discussions, and more importantly, I don’t really want to have that talk.

  Temper swoops in then. “Back the fuck up, Green Man, the queen needs more wine.”

  Before either me or the Green Man have a chance to react, Temper slides her arm through mine and forcefully escorts me away.

  “Jesus, I love you,” I say.

  “Black Jesus loves you too, you crazy skank.” She bumps my hip with her own.

  “I need to get out of here,” I say, not bothering to comment on the fact that Temper has a healthy glow to her, or that her hair is a little sex-shaken.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, eyeing me up and down. “You look like you accidently saw your grandparents getting it on.”

  I swallow. “I’ll tell you, just—” I glance around us at all the fairies crowding the room. Dropping my voice, I say, “not here.”

  She purses her lips, eyeing me again, but nods.

  We’re just about to the door when I hear Mara’s voice.

  “Callie!”

  I close my eyes.

  We nearly made it.

  “Wanna just pretend we didn’t hear that?” Temper asks.

  “Callie!” Mara calls again, more insistent this time.

  I sigh and shake my head.

  The two of us turn. The Queen of Flora is no longer on the dance floor, instead drinking a refreshment from where I stood a moment ago with the Green Man, who is now no longer in sight.

  “You must come here.” She beckons me over, her crowd of men eyeing me curiously.

  “Have I mentioned that I don’t fucking like that woman?” Temper says next to me. “Look at that smug-ass smile. She looks like the kind of bitch that befriends you just so she can steal your boyfriend.”

  This is precisely why Temper and I are friends. The girl gets it.

  “Ugh, I should probably go over,” I say.

  Being mates with a fae king has its drawbacks. I’d spent my teen years being a wallflower and the years following that making people forget they’d run into me. But now, being a fae king’s mate, I’m as far from anonymous as I can be.

  Temper dips her finger into her wine, stirring it contemplatively. It’s a look she gets right about the time she’s concocting a spell. “If she pisses you off, give me a signal, and I’ll rescue you again, no questions asked.”

  I nod. “Thanks for having my back, T.”

  “Anytime—oh, and later I want to hear what you were about to tell me,” she says as she backs away.

  I swallow uncomfortably, the Green Man’s conversation bubbling back up.

  I could be pregnant.

  I nod and part ways with Temper, taking a deep breath as I head over to Mara, who’s giggling with her harem. Her gaze moves to me, and her eyes sharpen.

  “So, tell me,” she says, “how did you and Desmond meet?”

  I glance around at the men watching us. Everyone looks so goddamn predatory. This is exactly why I wanted to stay far, far away from the Otherworld in the first place. These people will eat you alive.

  She sees where my attention is. “Don’t worry about them. Now, I’ve been dying to hear this story.”

  I have a knee jerk reaction to lie, as I have in the past when it comes to how Des and I met, but before I can, I reassess my audience.

  You know what? Why not give them the truth?

  “The first time I met the King of the Night was the evening I killed my father. He helped me hide the body.”

  For a moment, no one speaks.

  And then, one of the men begins to laugh. One by one, the rest join in. Even Mara cracks a smile.

  “What have I told you about humans?” one of the men says to another, “They are vicious little things when they want to be.”

  I frown at the man before the Queen of Flora drags my attention away.

  “My, my,” she says, “how much you and Desmond have in common. No wonder he’s so smitten with you. A woman after his own heart.”

  I furrow my brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She waves the conversation off, taking another sip of her drink. “That’s not my story to tell. But, speaking of stories, I imagine you have quite the tale to tell from your time with Karnon.”

  Yeah, that’s not exactly a tale I want to share during cocktail hour at the Flora Queen’s palace.

  “It must’ve been a sho
ck,” she says when I don’t respond, “coming here to the Otherworld—and being kidnapped no less! I can’t imagine being trapped in Karnon’s palace. That awful place had long since gone to seed by the time you arrived.”

  Bones breaking, blood dripping, endless agony.

  I give her a tight smile.

  She leans forward. “I hear Desmond arrived just in time. It seems uncanny almost. I wonder how he found you so quickly …”

  I narrow my eyes at her, seeing exactly what she’s getting at. Had I not talked to Des about this earlier, her words would worm their way under my skin.

  She lightly touches my arm. “Well, it’s no matter now. You’re safe, and thanks to those wings of yours, Desmond has ensured that you cannot leave his side to return to earth.”

  As soon as that last sentence registers, my heart seems to skip a beat.

  Thanks to those wings of yours, Desmond has ensured that you cannot leave his side …

  “… Callypso?” Mara’s voice echoes, as though from a distance.

  I blink several times, the Flora Queen’s face coming into focus. Her expression is pinched with concern, though I know it’s all an act. Just like the casual way she managed to plant those bits of doubt in my mind.

  “Are you alright?” she asks, reaching for my arm.

  And then Des’s words up on the treetop return to me. How, despite our weak connection, he felt my need and my pain through our bond. That my agony at the hands of Karnon had to be as intense as it was for the Bargainer to sense my distress and, through it, my location.

  That was how Des found me when he did. Not because he wanted to keep me here in the Otherworld like some caged bird. He doesn’t think like that, even if the Flora Queen does.

  The moment Mara’s fingers touch my elbow, I jerk it out of her reach.

  Around us I hear a few muffled gasps from fairies who must’ve caught sight of the action. Apparently not letting a queen touch you is some sort of faux pas.

  “You’re wrong.” I take a step back. I can feel my wings ruffling in agitation. “So, so wrong.”

  I need to get away from these creatures, with their fake smiles and duplicitous words.

  “Wait, I hope I didn’t upset you,” she says.

  A lie.

  “I called you over because I’ve been meaning to give you a gift in honor of your bond to the King of the Night.”

  I feel the first tendrils of apprehension. I’ve learned from Des that when it comes to gifts from fairies, there are always strings attached.

  The Flora Queen’s harem presses in around me, boxing me in while Mara gestures to someone over her shoulder.

  A human servant weaves through the throng of guests carrying a silver tray. Resting on it is a delicate metal wine glass filled with light purple liquid. She stops at the queen’s side.

  Carefully, Mara removes it from the tray. “Do you know what this is?” she asks.

  I shake my head, bewildered by this newest turn of events.

  “I would’ve thought that perhaps … but never mind.” She hands me the goblet, and it’s only as she does so that it clicks. This is her gift—whatever this actually is.

  Reluctantly I take the silver cup, staring down at the liquid with a slight grimace on my mouth.

  When I don’t take any further action, some of Mara’s men laugh at me like I’m a simpleton. To receive a drink but not to taste it!

  “You must try it,” the Flora Queen insists.

  There’s no way in hell I’m going to try it. Not a drink given to me by this broad.

  Before I can commit some further faux pas, the air shifts and the shadows deepen. Everyone else must feel it too because conversations become hushed.

  And then out of the shadows, Des appears, as though from a dream. He’s light and darkness, from the shadows that curl around him to the moonbeams that seem to illuminate him from within.

  Fairies step out of his way, making an aisle of sorts for him to stride down. Silently he heads for me, his white hair brushed away from his face, his jaw firm. Just like the first time I saw him, he takes my breath away.

  “What is this I hear of a gift?” he says when he reaches our group.

  He gently takes the delicate chalice from my hand. “Is this it?” he asks, pacing several feet away, his eyebrows raised.

  He brings the glass to his nose.

  “Lilac wine,” he says.

  Several people throughout the room gasp.

  He gives Mara an approving smile. “Cunning as ever, dear queen.”

  Ever so deliberately, he overturns the liquid, letting it spill onto the floor as he paces.

  The room goes utterly silent.

  I glance from person to person, trying to figure out what’s going on.

  “You trod on my hospitality?” she says, an edge entering her voice.

  “Perhaps you should think twice before you try to con my mate. Someone could get the wrong idea,” Des says, looking remorseless.

  I knew something was up with that drink.

  Now Mara smiles. “And perhaps you should explain to your human mate why you refuse this most sacred and arcane of lovers’ rights. Or why she will die a mortal when she could’ve lived at your side for eons.”

  Chapter 33

  “Alright, what is lilac wine?” I ask.

  The two of us are back in our rooms, Des’s jacket thrown haphazardly across the table, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his corded forearms, and my heels are kicked off, my hair cascading wildly down my back.

  He leans against the wall, watching me, his arms crossed over his chest. “A drink.”

  Awesome. Forthcoming Des has gone into hiding.

  “You’ve got to give me more than that.”

  Both Mara and Des had almost lost their shit over the wine.

  “Contrary to your opinion, I actually don’t,” he says, his eyes glinting in the dim room.

  Frustrating man!

  “Listen,” I say, “if you don’t tell me, someone else will. This is your chance to set the record straight.”

  His arms drop to his sides and he prowls forward. “Fine, you want me to set the record straight? Here it is, straight and clear: I have imagined giving you lilac wine a thousand times.” He comes right up to me, and something about his agitated mood has me backing up. “I imagined slipping it to you just as Mara did, coaxing you into drinking it when you didn’t know any better.”

  My back hits a wall, and Des pins me in with his arms.

  “I’ve even had it prepared before,” he says, reaching out and stroking the column of my throat with his thumb. “I had it in my fridge back on Catalina Island, and I’ve had it on hand in my palace.”

  “What is it?” And why do you have to be deceitful about it?

  His jaw muscles clench as he wages some internal war between telling me or not. Eventually, he gives into my questioning.

  “Somewhere deep in time, fairies found a way to make their mortal lovers immortal,” he says.

  His eyes look piercing, eager, as he speaks.

  “They gave their human lovers lilac wine, and flesh that should’ve aged became ageless, and magic that was once imperfect became perfect. Two species became one.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, “why keep this a secret?” It’s not like I have anything against lilac wine, now that I know about it.

  “Maybe I didn’t want to know your opinion. If you wanted to be immortal, it would mean you were okay to forsake all those things that make you so delightfully human—things I happen to love.”

  Awwww.

  “But if you didn’t want to be immortal, it would mean that you expected me to stand by and watch you age—watch you die.”

  His gaze scours my face, deepening with sadness. Because I am aging. I will die long before he ever does.

  “So you thought slipping me the wine was a better idea than getting my opinion on the matter?”

  See, this is why couples need to talk about things. Health
y option versus unhealthy option here.

  “If you notice, I have slipped you nothing,” he says.

  “But you’ve considered it,” I counter.

  “How many things have you considered? Does consideration make it wrong?” His lips brush my cheek.

  I swallow. “What stopped you from giving me the wine?”

  He pulls away a little, frowning. “The same thing that stopped me from taking you away the night of your prom and making you mine forever. I have enough broken humanity to know it’s wrong, and enough self-control to fight my innate nature.”

  “And what’s your innate nature?” I say, my words whisper soft.

  “To take what I want, when I want, and to apologize to no one for it.”

  Yeesh.

  “You want to know a secret?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Only if you drink the lilac wine will our bond be complete. Only then can we freely share our magic.”

  Chapter 34

  This lilac wine is sounding better and better the more I hear about it.

  “Remind me again why you don’t want me to drink the wine?” I ask.

  Des gives me a small smile. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I waited eight years for you, cherub, and now you’re here, warming my bed and weaseling my secrets out of me. This is more than enough.”

  “Why would Mara give lilac wine to me?” I ask, now curious about the Flora Queen’s motives. It’s obvious enough that she’s no fan of mine, so why give me such a gift?

  Des tilts his head. “Let’s strike a deal: I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer one of mine.”

  Everything just has to come down to a deal with the Bargainer.

  “Fine,” I say. It’s not like he can’t just take a bead and force the truth out of me anyway.

  I feel a subtle shift of magic in the air as Des binds me to the agreement.

  His smile spreads before he tucks it away. “To answer your question: Mara probably had several motives when she gave you the lilac wine. She’d want the room to see her being generous to a human and accepting of our bond—that’s just good for politics. She was also making a point that you’d be more accepted if you were made to be more like us. And finally, she was probing our relationship for weaknesses.”