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Eli was silent as we drove back to the city, and I decided to simply wait to speak.
Finally, Eli parked alongside at a building in the Garden District that looked like it could have been one of the first in the city. A fence, stone not iron, surrounded his house. The house was almost so plain as to be unnoticed—which required a lot of magic. There was neither balcony nor gallery, neither porch nor Ionic columns, just a nondescript house in a very expensive area.
His home.
When we were standing at the door, Eli bowed to me. “You are eternally welcome in my home, Genèvieve Crowe. I offer you my hearth and lintel. May you find shelter.”
“That’s some formal sounding stuff,” I hedged. “I was here before and—”
“I cannot answer the questions you have right now.” He held out his hand. “You will have the answer on Twelfth Night.”
“You’re making me nervous.” I didn’t take his hand, and he didn’t lower it. Whispers rose up from some knowledge older than the stone that protected this house or the magic that flowed in my veins. “What does it mean if I take your hand right now?”
“That you accept my protection, my shelter. That you willingly enter this house.” Eli stood, waiting.
Some part of me thought he’d been waiting longer than I knew, longer than I wanted to know.
He stayed there, hand outstretched, and said, “Come into my home, and let me shelter you, love.”
“Is this how you normally treat dates?” I tried for lighter tone, for avoiding this tension that was in the air like magic between us.
“I’ve never dated.” Eli shrugged slightly: elegant and utterly telling all at once. It was often to avoid discussions—usually for my benefit. Tonight, that was not the case. He felt embarrassed or awkward.
My staring at him all agog probably didn’t help matters.
“You will be the first,” he added.
“What?”
“I’ve fucked. I’ve had sex. I’ve spent time clothed and naked with friends and acquaintances, but dating is only done with intent among the fae.”
My mouth was drier than the desert. “Oh. . .fuck. What if we didn’t--”
“You agreed to date me, Genèvieve. Are you reneging on a bargain with one of the fae?”
No matter how much I’d thought I understood, once more, I was fucked by my own hubris. Every human in history who had made a bargain with a fae believed they were clever enough to outsmart the fae. Thatneverhappened. Ever. And yet, I’d tried it twice.
“So dating, to you, is a precursor to . . .”
“Matrimony.”
I sputtered, “It’s not what it is to me, Eli.”
He smiled. “You are bound in promise to the fae, which means fae law applies to you. You’ve even agreed to a date for the end of our courtship.”
I stepped away from him. “This is not how to seduce me, Eli.”
“You have a month to find a way to end our courtship,” he reminded me. “And I have a month to make you accept the inevitable. You said ‘I agree to your terms, Eli. We will date.’ So, I do believe, my Divinity, that you now must either date me or break our bargain.”
“What happens if I break the bargain?”
“The king ofElphamewould determine your fate, as he is chief in my familial line.” Eli shrugged again. “So, I ask again, will you date me or do you break our bargain?”
“Fine.” I took his hand.
He lifted me into his arms bridal style. The smile he gave me would probably incinerate knickers in at least a three-mile radius.
My voice was squeakier than it had ever been as I asked, “Eli?”
