“I’m not going to lose.”
I hold out my hand. “Then let’s bet on it.”
William reaches to grasp my palm. Before we can shake, Monty leans across the table to separate us with a chop of his hand.
“Now, Miss Danforth,” Monty says, “not so fast. A bet with a fae is akin to a bargain. And fae bargains are magically binding. Not wise to agree when we still have terms to define.”
Another slice of panic cuts through my floaty sense of confidence. He’s right. Way to Die Number Three: making a bargain with a fae that results in accidental death. Such as agreeing to dance at a revel from sundown to sunrise and perishing from exhaustion. I doubt our bet would lead to such a demise, but then there’s Way to Die Number Four: breaking a bargain with a fae. That almost always results in death. My brochure didn’t specify whether the punishment is delivered by magic or law, but I’d rather not find out firsthand.
I lift both palms in surrender to show I’m not ready to shake on it after all.
Monty gives me an approving nod. “Smart choice. Next, we need to define seduction. We can’t force intercourse, for there are ways to enjoy such relations without penetration.”
My cheeks heat at his blunt use of words. I may write steamy romance novels, but rarely do I hear such topics discussed out in the open. Faerwyvae truly is a different world.
“How about this?” Monty says. “We’ll define seduction as an act of physical intimacy between two parties behind the closed door of one’s bedroom. And we need a deadline. These intimacies must take place by midnight on any given night. Or…should we make it less vague thanintimacy?—”
“Keep it vague,” William says, tone icy. He really is acting strange. Then his expression softens, turning taunting once more. “For Weenie’s sake.”
“I don’t need your consideration.”
“Well, you have it. You’re going to need it to beat me. It’s not going to take me until midnight to find a willing bedfellow every night of our tour. You’ve seen the effect I have on others. Do you really want to go up against that?”
Were I not the most brilliant person in the world right now, walking on a cushioned ball of sunshine and rainbows provided by my most trusted friend, Cloud Dive, I might think there was wisdom in his warning.
“Gladly,” I say, thrusting out my palm once more. “I agree to these terms.”
This time, Monty has no further argument as William secures his hand around mine in a firm shake. His eyes are narrowed, that tic pulsing in his jaw once more. “I agree to them as well.”
“This is fun,” Monty says.
“This is a bad idea,” mutters Daphne.
“This is going to be so easy,” I say with a giggle as I drain the rest of my drink.
PART II
HOW TO SEDUCE A STRANGER
CHAPTER SEVEN
WILLIAM
How the hell did flirting with Edwina end in a bet where I’m supposed to sleep with someone whoisn’ther? Did she not understand that when I dared her to seduce someone tonight, I meant me? I made it so obvious. Didn’t I?
Not that I want to sleep with her. Of course I don’t. I don’t even like the woman. She’s a nuisance with a temper and my rival in securing the contract I desperately need. That isn’t to say I don’t enjoy her company. More than anything, I like how much she hates me. Which is why I dared her to try to seduce me. Wouldn’t that be a riot?
But no. Instead of reading the subtext of my clear flirtations, she took my bait, added coal and fire to it, and sent it back to me. Of course I had to respond in kind. Add more coal. Add more fire. Again and again.
How the hell did it end in such a ridiculous bet?
I glance at my idiotic little nemesis now. Our party has moved from our table to the bar counter. She’s slumped at the far end, her cheek propped in her hand, spectacles askew. Her eyelids droop, and her head begins to tilt. She’s about to fully nod off but startles awake at the last minute and mumbles something incoherent.
I’m pleased to see the effects of Cloud Dive have run their full course. It serves her right, ignoring my warning. I almost believed her when she said she was perfectly sober, for she was rather sharp during our verbal exchange. Now her delusions of wit and grandeur have fizzled into drowsy incompetence, as Cloud Dive often does to humans.
I’ve seen it firsthand when my sister imbibed behind my back. She stayed up all night writing what she thought was the most brilliant stage play, only to spend the next day heaving up the contents of her stomach. And the script was, of course, complete nonsense. I only gave Edwina the benefit of the doubt because she’s nine-and-twenty, whereas my sister is only nineteen.
Edwina almost nods off again. Her spectacles slide from her face to the counter, and when she startles awake, she goes to push the bridge of her lenses up her nose, but without them there, she jabs herself right between the eyes. She frowns, jabs again, then searches for her fallen spectacles on the counter. The impish grin she makes when she finds them and replaces them has my lips curling in turn.
