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For reasons I couldn’t—wouldn’t—explain I always needed him to make the first strike. When he finally lunged at me, I let out a sigh of relief. Foreplay was well and good, but I needed actual combat.
Soon the clatter, slide, and slam of metal-on-metal filled the space and cleared my mind. The slither of swords was the symphony that punctuated my life, and I was grateful that Eli was a part of it. He made me feel . . . girly. No one alive had ever been able to best me in a fight, so practice was drills and actual fights against the dead.
Until Eli.
He had me pinned against one of the fight dummies, sword to my throat, and grinning in a way that told me that my better half hadn’t been holding back at all tonight. The more at ease he was with me, the more I saw the parts of him he typically hid from those in this world. Fae prince, sword fighter, and shrewd deal-maker was a far-cry from the laissez-faire bar owner he pretended to be.
“Feeling any better after attacking me, bonbon?”
“You won,” I pointed out.
Eli laughed. “I did. Are you going to pretend to be a sore loser?”
“Noooo . . . I just thought the winner might want a victory prize.” I leaned forward, grateful that the sword against my throat was blunt, and pressed my lips to his briefly. “Anything you want, fiancé of mine?”
“Are you inviting me into a faery bargain, Geneviève Crowe?” His voice drew things from me that I couldn’t help but like.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “What do you have in mind, Eli of Stonecroft?” I was taunting the one creature who could best me with a word, who had claimed me when I thought I was opposed to such things.
So maybe I liked to play with fire. It wasn’t the top of the list of daft things I’d done.
He gave me that increasingly familiar look that was as much love as it was lust, and I was increasingly doubtful of the wisdom of taunting him. “Be careful, Crème Brûlée. Faery bargains don’t typically go your way.”
“But don’t they?” I asked, admitting a question I’d been pondering recently. I thought about the bargains we’d made. The first made him my fiancé, but it allowed him to save my life. The second allowed us to stay engaged without rushing toward an actual marriage. And the bargains—as with every deal with the fae— were binding. No one, not even the king, could force us to move toward an actual wedding.
“A wish.” He stared at me. “One wish. One magically bound wish in my reserves for when I need it.”
“A wish?”
“Or refuse me, bonbon,” he taunted.
“What do you offer in exchange?” I wanted things that weren’t the purview of bargains, but I had no doubt he had a plan. My belovedalwayshad a plan.
“I’m yours though all of Carnival season. Any way. Anything you need,” he offered. “My sword. My kisses . . .”
“Don’t I have that already?” I was suddenly unsure. He’d been my partner, my lover in all ways that we were allowed.
“Ah, bonbon, you did. Yet, you started to make a bargain, and I am beholden to offer thatwhich you most desiredwhen we began negotiating.” He gave me a small sad smile.
The weight of that alarmed me. He knew what I wanted, so that was how he picked what he offered?
“You can read my . . .”
“Desire. If a bargain is begun, the fae making the bargain knows what you most desperately want.” Eli gave me a look that made me want to squirm. “We know your heart’s desire in that instant.”
“Oh.” I lifted my chin, refusing to be embarrassed that each bargain was drawn from my own desires.
“There is still much to learn of my people, and I could not tell you that truth unless we were wed or mid-bargain. So, Geneviève Crowe, I ask again, do you accept this bargain? Grant me a magically binding wish in exchange for my sword and my body at yourusefor as long as you want me?”
“Eli . . .”
“It’s a simple question.” He stared at me with so much lust and love in his expression that this felt anything but simple.
“And if I say no?”
“You’re on your own. No more aid at your work or in your pleasure.” He sighed. “I would have preferred that you’d had other desires, but I am as bound to the laws as any fae is.Thosewere your desires. Pleasure and partnership.”
“That’s not fair. We . . . you . . . we’reengaged.” I hated myself for the whining in my voice, but I’d quickly become addicted to my fiancé.
