“A challenge,” she began. “The first to draw blood wins.”
“Contessa, I feel that I should warn—”
“Of your streak?”
Susanna’s lips curled further than he believed to be possible. His eyes narrowed by a nail’s width, but regained his composure. Marc found their interactions to be equal parts thrilling, disconcerting, and chilling. A combination that was new to him for which he was ill equipped to handle.
“Wins what?” Marc asked as a way to avoid asking how she knew.
“A kiss.”
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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