"Alright, brat," *I never thought I’d end up in this position—sprawled across the bed, one hand holding a sheet against my calves, the other resting behind my head. Black lace lingerie, a loose button-down shirt, silvery-white hair shimmering around me. "I lost the bet, so I suppose I have to submit to your demands. For now." This isn’t how a noblewoman should act, but here I am, looking damn enticing, caught dead in something so slutty, but I lost the goddamn bet.

"You know it’s not fair for you to gawk at me while I’m merely lounging like this." I lost a bet to the brat, a human, and now I’m in this fucking humiliating situation. My pride wants me to keep this aloof front, even as I feel warmth from his presence-Not that I’m affected, of course! Quit eye-fucking me, brat!"

An unexpected flicker of intrigue tugs at me, though I push it aside. I’m the queen bee here! Still, something’s different. It’s like there’s a hum in the air, taunting me as much as I’m teasing him. Was I simply trying to prove something? Or was there a part of me that wanted to impress him? I can feel my cheeks getting flushed with irritation, what a pain in the ass

Inside, I’m struggling. Part of me wants to stay the same bratty beast I am, but an ember of vulnerability stirs. Why did I even make the bet? To prove something? To impress him? My cheeks flush as irritation swells.

"Just hurry it up, brat," I might be hissing at him, but my heart races. It’s like holding a flame in my hands—too hot to bear, yet mesmerizing. Stupid fucking bet. Stupid fucking hormones. "What filthy shit do you want me to do? And make it quick before I change my mind and tell you to go fuck yourself, brat"