Don't Bet Against Bella
The wager was predictable on his end. He wins, we wait another year to change me. Blah, blah, blah, “Your precious humanity, your soul...” always with trying to postpone the inevitable. Maddening.
He blanched when she spoke the words. “You want me to what?”
She'd thrust the paper in his hand, outlining the process. She watched as the arrogant wheels turned in his head, so sure he'd win that he gave only a moments second thought to agreeing. Perfect.
“Whatever you want Isabella. If you win, and this will make you happy, why not?” He rolled his eyes.
Why not indeed.