Rhapsodic (The Bargainer Book 1)

I twist my bracelet round and round my wrist, anxiously playing with the single black bead strung along it, an IOU that I owe the Bargainer for getting the authorities off my back.

Ahead of me, the man himself appears for the second time in my dorm room. He’s clad from head to toe in black, the vintage AC/DC T-shirt he wears hugging his sculpted shoulders and broad back.

As soon as he sees me, he folds his arms over his chest. “My magic is still holding strong,” he says, “so what else could you possibly need from me?”

I twist the bracelet around my wrist again, my heart thumping like mad at the sight of him. “I want to make another deal.”

He narrows his eyes at me.

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.

Time to soldier on. “I, uh …”

He raises an eyebrow.

Just spit it out, Callie. “… want to buy you for a night.”

Oh. My. Sweet. Lord.

Fuck you, mouth. Fuck you to the fiery pits of hell.

All expression wipes clean from the Bargainer’s face. “I’m sorry, what?”

My cheeks and neck flush. I’m going to die of embarrassment. Scratch that, I wish I could die of embarrassment. Better than just standing here, my mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.

The Bargainer begins to smirk, and somehow that makes this all even worse.

Should never have done this.

“I just want to hang out with you,” I rush in to say. “It would be completely platonic.”

Ugh, and now I sound desperate. But who am I kidding? I am desperate, desperate for companionship. When I came to Peel Academy, I thought I’d fit in and make friends, but it hasn’t yet happened. And I’m so lonely.

“That’s too bad, cherub,” he says, beginning to poke around my room. “I was liking your offer better when it wasn’t platonic.”

I swear my cheeks burn even hotter, my eyes suddenly drawn to the Bargainer’s built torso.

His gaze slides to mine, and now his smirk widens, his eyes glinting mischievously.

He knows exactly where my mind is.

“It would just be for an evening,” I say, watching him as he idly picks up a perfume bottle from the top of my dresser and sniffs it. He winces at the smell, hastily putting it back where he found it.

“I have work,” he says. And yet, he doesn’t leave.

He’s willing to be convinced.

But how to convince him? The last time I glamoured him, it only served to piss him off. I don’t think logic would sway him, and besides, there’s no logic to this. If anything, me wanting to hang out with him for an evening is madness.

The first time I had convinced him to help me, what had I done?

My eyes widen when I remember.

“Bargainer,” I say, heading over to where he stands eyeing my Keep Calm and Read On poster. When I’m close enough, I reach out and touch his forearm, my stomach tightening at the contact. “Please?”

I swear I feel his body shiver under my hand. He looks down at where our skin meets, my hand covering some of his tattoos.

The first time I had convinced him, it hadn’t been my words so much as my touch.

When his silver eyes find mine again, I swear something devious sparkles in them. “You’re pushing your luck, baby siren.”

His fingers brush over my knuckles. “One night,” he says.

I nod. “Just one night.”

Present

Near the edge of my property the Bargainer stops walking, but he doesn’t put me down. Far below us lies the ocean, and nothing but a forty-foot drop separates here from there.

His wings stretch out behind him, and I suck in a breath at the sight. His wingspan is incredible—nearly twenty feet across—and except for their silver hue, they look a lot like bat wings.

I meet his eyes; I know what he’s about to do. “Des, no—”

He flashes me a wicked smile. “Hold on tight, Callie.”

I bite my lip to stifle my scream as he jumps from the cliff. For a second we drop, and my stomach somersaults. Then Bargainer’s wings catch the wind, and the air current pulls us up.

I wrap my hands around his neck and bury my face against his chest. All that’s keeping me from plunging to my death are two sets of arms.

My wet hair whips about my face, the strands now icy cold as we rise in elevation.

“You’re missing the view, cherub,” he says over the howl of wind.

“I’m trying not to barf,” I say, not sure he can even hear me.

It’s not that I’m afraid of heights—I mean, my house rests on a cliff—but being carried through the air by a fairy is not on my short list of fun activities.

But eventually I do lift my head and look down. The water glitters far below us, and ahead of us, the rest of Los Angeles beckons, the land lit up like a Christmas tree.

The higher we rise, the colder it gets. I shiver against Des, and his grip tightens. He adjusts me slightly so that more of my body is pressed against his.

Just as I feared, being this close to him is reminding me of all those other times he held me close.

“Where are we going?” I yell over the wind.

“ … location of your second dare.” The constant shriek of the wind snatches away most of the Bargainer’s words, but not the important ones. I sort of wish it had.

I can’t imagine what’s in store for me, and considering my sordid past, that’s not a good thing.

Not at all.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I fold my arms, taking in the parking lot we landed in and the building beyond it. “This is what you blew off my door for?” I say, my eyes moving over the couches and tables on display in the store’s windows. “A furniture store?”

His mouth twitches. “I’m redesigning my guest bedroom—or rather, you are.”

I roll my eyes. Picking out furniture, that’s my dare.

“The place closes in fifteen minutes,” the Bargainer says. “I expect you to choose and purchase the appropriate furnishings for a bedroom before then.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, I feel the cloak of his magic settle on my shoulders like a weight, compelling me to action.

I begin moving, grumbling to myself. Of all the dumb, inane tasks, he gives me this one. This is what the Internet is for.

I shouldn’t complain, it could be worse.

It should be worse. I’ve seen enough of Des’s bargains to know what repayment involves. It’s never this effortless.

The Bargainer falls into step beside me, his wings shimmering out of existence. It’s all I can do not to look at him. The man is nothing but a will-o’-wisp, the closer I think I get to him, the farther out of reach he seems.

I pull open the door and head inside the store. Spread out before me is a sea of furniture. Fifteen minutes is not nearly enough time to see even half of what’s in here.

Desmond’s magic coils around my stomach, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable.

“What furniture do you want?” I ask, even as the spell Des has put on me tugs me forward.

The Bargainer shoves his hands in his pockets, wandering over to a table and peering at the place settings. He looks comically out of place with his big, manly muscles and the faded Iron Maiden shirt he wears.

“That, cherub, is for you to decide.”

Fuck it, I don’t have time to worry about this man’s tastes. No sooner does the thought cross my mind, than I feel an insistent tug from the magic, making my insides squirm.

Des flashes me a wicked smile from where he lays sprawled out on one of the couches, and I realize I should be more worried about this task than him.

This favor is a far cry from the kiss last night. Then I didn’t feel the magic. But perhaps I only feel the pull when I resist it. The thought makes me disgusted with myself. Last night I should’ve fought against that kiss more.

I move down the aisles, going for the ugliest pieces of furniture I can find. My little act of rebellion. This is what happens when you don’t give good instructions.

I dart a quick glance at the Bargainer, and he watches me raptly.

He definitely has something else up his sleeve.

Don’t focus on that now.

As fast as I can manage, I snatch up the price tags on the pieces I decide on and head to the cash register. The magic is an insistent drumbeat in my veins, quickening by the minute.

The entire time the Bargainer’s eyes are still on me. I know he’s enjoying himself. Bastard.

God, his magic feels so invasive. Like an itch beneath my skin. And while a small, sick part of me thrills at the feel of his magic on me and in me, the bigger, more practical part finds it disturbing as hell.

The woman working at the register looks alarmed when I dump the price tags at her register. “Ma’am, you’re not supposed to remove the tags from the furniture.”

My skin glows lightly. “It’s fine—nothing to worry about,” I say, using the siren in me to compel the store clerk.

She nods her head dumbly and begins scanning the barcodes. Behind me I hear the Bargainer’s rumbly laughter.

“Hmmm.” The woman at the register stares at her computer and her brows furrow. “That’s weird.”

“What?” I say, just knowing this is going to be more difficult than I’d hoped.

“I could’ve sworn we’d just got a new shipment of these on Thursday, but it says we’re all sold out.” The item she’s referring to is a hot pink, leopard print chair.

She sets the price tag aside. “Let me ring up the rest of your items and then I’ll try checking the storeroom for this one.”

“Forget about it.” The magic’s starting to breathe down my neck. I doubt I’ll have time for the clerk to check the storeroom.

She gives me a strange look before her eyes move to the clock mounted to the wall my left. I know she must be thinking how close her shift is to being over. “If you’re sure…”

“I am,” I rush to say. I grabbed enough price tags to still fully furnish the Bargainer’s room.

She scans the next barcode—for a couch upholstered in a repeating pattern of roses and sickly sweet bows—and the same issue comes up.

My eyes thin, and I glance back at the Bargainer. He holds up his wrist and taps the face of the watch. The magic constricts around my innards, and before I can help it, I fold in on myself. The magic’s becoming more than unpleasant.

I hold up a shaky hand and flip him the bird before returning my attention back to the woman.

Every other item she rings up runs into the same mysterious problem. A problem I know better as Desmond Flynn.

The magic is making my heart race, and it’s getting worse with each passing second. It’s clear that in addition to the store closing, the Bargainer has imposed a time limit of his own.

This stupid task.

I lean over the counter and swallow. “What in your system is currently available for purchase?”

The cashier types something into her computer. Her brows furrow. “At the moment, it looks like we only have a four poster bed, a wrought iron chandelier, a loveseat, and a gilded mirror.” She sounds hopelessly confused.

“I’ll take one of each,” I say, shoving my credit card at her, my hand beginning to shake. Sweat beads along my forehead.

I would not be killed by some ugly furniture.

Startled, she takes it. “But ma’am …”

“Please,” I practically beg. The magic is starting to seize up my lungs. Again, I feel the Bargainer’s laughter at my back.

The cashier looks at me like I’ve lost it. Then her head tilts. “Hey, are you that actress … you know from—”

“For the love of all that is sacred, please ring me up!” The magic is twisting its way around my innards; I’m going to pass out if I don’t complete this soon.

She flinches as though I slapped her. If I wasn’t in physical pain, I’d feel bad for hurting her feelings. But all I can think of right now is how the magic seems to be doubling on itself.

She sniffs and shakes her head but does as I ask. An agonizing minute passes where she goes over delivery methods and shipping times, but then she swipes the card through the system.

I sigh as the magic releases me and I collapse against the counter. I glance down at my wrist in time to see two beads vanish.

I’m going to kill him.

“Ran into trouble?” the Bargainer asks innocently, standing up from the couch.

I stride past him and out of the store.

Out in the dark parking lot, he materializes in front of me, arms folded. Naturally, no one notices that he can appear and disappear at will.

As I try to pass him, his arm shoots out and catches my wrist.

I twist to face him. “Two?” I practically yell. “You make me redecorate your stupid bedroom in under twenty minutes, I nearly die, and that only eliminates two beads?”

I shouldn’t be this upset. He hasn’t yet asked anything truly awful of me, but the feeling of magical fingers squeezing my organs has almost undone me.

The Bargainer steps into my personal space. “Didn’t like that task too much?” he asks, his voice low. His eyes glint in the moonlight.

I’m smart enough to keep quiet. He looks especially predatory right now, and when he’s like this, I know better than to provoke him.

He steps in even closer. “I had more tasks like this one planned, but if you really hated it, then perhaps we can do something that’s a bit more … comfortable.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, I realize I just messed up big time. I played right into his hands.

The Bargainer wraps his arms around me, his gaze lingering on my lips.

Eli was right.

The bastard has something else in mind for me.

But just when I think he’s going to kiss me, his wings unfurl. And then we’re rising, heading back into the night.

Twenty minutes later, the Bargainer lands gracefully in my backyard, holding me in his arms. His enormous silver wings fold up as soon as we touch ground, and a moment later they shimmer out of existence.

Wordlessly, the Bargainer carries me to my sliding glass door. Without prompting, it slides open, and he steps inside.

It shuts behind us, and the Bargainer places me on my bed and crouches before me. His eyes never leave mine as his hands move to my ankles.

I’m beginning to get nervous. Just what else is he going to demand of me tonight? The man’s never even seen me naked. Besides, I know the Bargainer wouldn’t make me pay him back in sex unless I was already on board with the idea.

And I’m not.

Right?

Des removes first one boot, then the other. He tosses them aside and peels off my socks one at a time. “Tell me, Callie,” he says, his gaze sliding to me, “are you nervous?”

He’s not exacting repayment right now, I don’t need to answer him. But I find myself reluctantly nodding anyway.

“So you have not forgotten everything about me,” he says. “Good.”

He clutches one of my feet in his hands, and he places a tender kiss on my ankle. “Truth or dare?”

My breath catches.

“Truth.”

His grip on my ankle tightens. “Why do you think I left you all those years ago?” he asks.

He had to go straight for the killing blow. My heart feels like it’s at the back of my throat, and I swallow down my emotion.

I draw in a ragged breath. The past can’t hurt me anymore. None of it. It only exists in my memory.

“Des, what does it matter?”

His magic flares up in my throat, though it’s not painful like it was before. Just a reminder that I have to answer his question.

He waits, letting his rising magic speak for him.

My fingers pluck at a loose thread of my comforter. “I forced your hand.” I lift my gaze. “I pushed you too far and made you leave.” I feel the spell release me as soon as the words are out of my throat.

The past might not be able to hurt me, but it sure feels like a living, breathing thing. Amazing that something and someone who entered and exited my life close to a decade ago can still have this kind of hold on me.

The Bargainer’s eyes search mine, the silver of them glinting in the moonlight. I can’t read his expression, but it makes my stomach clench uncomfortably.

He nods once and stands. The man is almost to the balcony door before I realize he’s leaving.

That thought sends a stab of pain through me. I am so damn fed up with my stupid heart. If I could, I’d break it myself simply for being foolish enough to soften for this man when my mind wants to push him as far away as possible.

“Really, Des?” I call out. “Running again?”

His eyes flash as he swivels to face me, one hand on my sliding-glass door. “You’re righter than you know, cherub. You did force me to leave you. Seven years is a long time to wait, especially for someone like me. A word of caution: I’m not leaving again.”