Fear slid down my spine. I glanced at the new clock on my nightstand.
I’d wished for the bedside table and clock before turning in for the night, and both had magically appeared while I slept. I didn’t know if the room was magicked to my wants, or if Wrath had simply guessed I’d need them. It was likely the latter. Wrath’s attention to detail was astounding. As if he had nothing better to do than send for bedside tables.
Dinner was at midnight and there was still an hour left before then. Which gave me just enough time to rush back to the demon prince’s personal library. I’d planned to spend the time practicing harnessing my magic source, but that could wait. I needed to retrieve the journal on House Pride and sneak it back to my chamber. Immediately. Demon language or not, I’d find some way to read it, even if I had to bargain away another piece of my soul to accomplish it.
I managed to shove both the skull and stolen journal next to the first skull—hiding them all behind a voluminous dress—and close my wardrobe just as a knock sounded at the door. Exhaling quietly, I said a quick prayer to the goddess of lies and deception and hoped I’d not only make it through the night but that I’d come out more victorious than I dreamed.
I smoothed down the front of my bodice and crossed from my bedchamber into the sitting room that doubled as an antechamber.
With any luck, my racing heartbeat would be mistaken for nerves about dinner.
I opened the door and Fauna smiled broadly. Her happiness didn’t seem forced and a knot loosened in my chest. Perhaps I could strike a bargain with her to read the journal—she was a demon; she would no doubt possess the skills needed to read the demonic language.
But I wasn’t ready to hand over my trust just yet.
Unaware of my silent assessment and wandering thoughts, her gaze quickly traveled over me. “You look lovely, Emilia.”
“You do, too.” An understatement. She looked resplendent in a silver gown that appeared to be made of liquid metal. Images of Roman centurion breastplates crossed my mind; all she needed was the scarlet skirt or cape to complete the look. “Your gown is like armor.”
“Better to shield from the murderous glances with.” She winked and stepped back into the corridor, her expression turning serious. “Are you ready? We should make our way there soon. Guests are expected to arrive fashionably late, but not late enough to stoke royal ire.”
My pulse pounded. I hadn’t heard from—or seen—Wrath at all except for the note he sent regarding my clothing earlier. I had no idea what to expect from him tonight: how he would act in front of his subjects, if he’d ignore my presence, mock me, or seat me in a place of honor.
Maybe he wouldn’t even bother to show up. Perhaps he’d throw me to the wolves and see if I was vicious enough to grow fangs and make it out on my own. After our encounter in the library, he certainly seemed to hold a grudge against my family. What better way to exact revenge on them than by leaving me alone in a room full of bloodthirsty demons?
“Will Wrath be attending?”
“Yes.”
The deep, smooth voice owned my attention with just one word. My eyes snapped to his. Wrath stood in the corridor, dressed in a signature black suit, his gaze darkening at the sight of me. A crown of obsidian snakes dusted with gold sat upon his head. If a tall, menacing shadow had sprung to life—appearing both dangerous and tempting as sin—it would look just like him.
I told myself his unexpected appearance outside my bedroom suite caused the flutter in my pulse, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with the handsome prince or the predatory gleam in his gaze. The gaze that was trained wholly on me as if the rest of the realm could burn and he’d pay it no mind. There was something in the way he stared that…
Fauna twisted around to see who had caught my attention and immediately fell into a deep curtsy. “Your highness.”
“Leave us.”
With a quick look of sympathy in my direction, Fauna hurried down the corridor and disappeared from sight. Once the sound of her heeled shoes faded, Wrath stalked closer, his heavy focus sliding from the animal-bone crown I wore, to his ring on my finger, and inched all the way down to my toes before he dragged it back up. I did my best to breathe in even intervals.
I couldn’t tell if it was ravenous greed, wrath, or lust glinting in his eyes. Maybe it was a combination of all three. It seemed the underworld wasn’t only testing and prodding my desires now, it was a battle he was suddenly fighting, too.
When he finally finished his thorough inspection of my attire, his attention settled on mine. A tiny spark jolted through me as our gazes clashed and held.
It was hardly anything, a bit of static electricity one experienced after scuffling their feet and touching metal on an arid day. Except… it didn’t feel like nothing, exactly.
It felt like the first indication a violent storm was approaching. The sort where you either stood your ground or ran for cover. It was as if the air between us grew heavy and dark with the promise of nature’s fury. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine thunder rattling my teeth as winds whipped around, threatening to drag me into the swirling vortex and devour me whole. It was the kind of storm that broke cities, destroyed realms.
And Wrath controlled it all with one powerful glance.
“You look like a beautiful cataclysm.”
I laughed, trying to ease the strange tension hovering between us. His choice of words made me wonder just how well he could read my emotions. Maybe none of my secrets had ever been safe from him. “It’s every woman’s dream to be likened to a natural disaster.”
“A violent upheaval. I’d say it suits.”
A smile almost made an appearance on his handsome face. Instead, he motioned for me to spin around. I slowly twisted to give him a look at the entirety of me.
The back of the gown was as scandalous as the front. A deep V descended all the way down, exposing me nearly to my hips. A thin gold chain linked between my shoulders and swung like a pendulum against my spine, the only other bit of adornment I wore.
It was only because I’d been straining to listen, but I heard the slightest rasp of his breath as he inhaled sharply. Something resembling satisfaction coursed through me.
I was worried I’d feel self-conscious with large swaths of skin showing between my front and back, and the way the gown clung seductively to each curve, but I felt the opposite. I felt powerful. Now I understood why Wrath chose his clothing with such care. I commanded attention without ever opening my mouth.
It was a gamble I’d taken while dressing and—judging from the points of heat at my back and what I imagined was Wrath’s inability to keep his gaze from returning to me—I believe it worked. At dinner I wanted all eyes to be fastened on me when I walked in, all conversations to cease. I would not cower behind columns and slink in undetected. If Wrath’s subjects were anything like him, I couldn’t be seen as weak. They would scent my fear like a swarm of sharks finding a drop of blood in the sea and strike with the same predatory violence.
I went to shift around again, but Wrath stilled me with a light touch on my shoulder. His bare skin blazed against mine. “Wait.”
Perhaps it was the soft way he said it, or the feeling of intimacy in his voice, but I obeyed his wish. He carefully gathered up my hair and swept it to one side, letting the strands tickle and tease as they slid across my shoulders. I bit my lip. Shoulders were more erogenous than I’d ever given them credit for. Or maybe it was just the way Wrath moved closer until I felt the heat of him against my skin, and a tiny, intrigued part of me longed to feel more.
He looped a necklace over my head, the weight of it settling just above my cleavage, and fastened it more slowly than was necessary. But I didn’t complain or step away.
When he was done, he trailed one finger down my spine, following the line of the thin chain, inadvertently coaxing a small shudder. It took every ounce of stubbornness I could muster to not lean into his caress. To recall my hatred. Because surely that’s what that fee
ling was: the all-consuming, raging fire of loathing.
I slowly turned until we faced each other again. His gaze dropped to my necklace and I finally looked down to see what he’d placed on me. I inhaled sharply as my silver cornicello caught the light. “Does the devil know you’re giving this to me?”
Wrath didn’t take his attention from the amulet. “Consider it borrowed, not given.”
“Can you do that? Won’t he come after you?”
He made a show of glancing down each end of the empty corridor before looking at me again. “Do you see anyone trying to stop me?” I shook my head. “Then stop worrying.”
“I am most certainly not…” His mouth twisted into a troublesome grin as I trailed off, leaving the lie unspoken. I blew out a quiet breath. “It doesn’t mean what you think it does. Stop smirking.”
“What, exactly, do you think I believe it means?”
“I don’t care what you think. I’ve simply decided to be cordial for the time being. And I am merely tolerating our current situation until I leave for House Pride.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me you hate me, that I am your worst enemy. Better yet, tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”
“I’m not interested in playing this game.” He arched a brow, waiting, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his smugness. “Fine. I don’t want to kiss you. Satisfied?”
A spark of understanding flared in his gaze. I realized a second too late what I’d done; what he’d known the moment the words left my traitorous lips. He stepped forward and I quickly stepped back, bumping against the wall.
He leaned in, bracing himself on either side of me, his expression smoldering enough to start a fire. “Liar.”
Before I dug myself a deeper grave, his mouth slanted over mine, stealing my breath and any further denial as easily as he’d stolen my soul.
NINE
His kiss consumed and seduced me. Just as he’d meant it to. It wasn’t fast or hard or fueled by hatred or fury. It was an ember, a promise of the blazing fire to come with a bit of careful tending. I almost considered it sweet—the kind of chaste embrace two courting lovers stole when their chaperone wasn’t looking—until he slowly raised my arms above my head, pinning me to the wall by my wrists. He took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently. Then I remembered: he was no angel. And I was suddenly all too willing to be damned.
Curse this realm and its fiendish machinations. Its need for sin. My undeniable need for him. Right now there was no blood oath with the devil. No betrothal or obligations to my family. There was only this moment, this wicked prince, and the heat steadily building between us.
Wrath’s body molded against mine, rock hard and unyielding in all the right places. Whatever hunger I felt was equally matched by him. I wish I hated it. I wish I didn’t run my tongue over his lips, or sigh as he obeyed my silent demand and deepened our kiss.
This new kiss devoured, plundered, stole. It was apology and wanting and a fierce refusal to submit to any true feelings all in one. Primal need at its most basic level. I couldn’t tell if letting myself give in to this wild feeling frightened or thrilled me.
I yanked away, breathing hard. “Is this real?”
“Yes.”
As if to prove the truth in his statement, his hips rolled forward and I was almost certain the whole castle quaked the second our bodies connected. There was no mistaking how much this dark prince wanted me. I grabbed the lapels on his jacket and brought his lips back to mine.
For one heart-thundering moment, I wished he’d hike my gown up right there, bury himself deep inside me and release every last one of my trapped desires. I longed to forget where I was and what I had to do. I wanted to abandon all of the hurt and pain and grief that were never far. All I desired was the sweet oblivion of touch. Wrath could easily provide that. And more.
He leashed himself and broke away from our kiss, only to begin languidly stroking the top of my bodice. Need flared through me and seemed to mirror itself in him. He dragged his hands down my sides, gripping me a little tighter to his body. “You may destroy me yet.”
“Sooner rather than later if you don’t stop talking and kiss me again.”
“Demanding, angelic creature.”
He smiled indulgently at me, then obliged. This kiss. It was slow and drugging and made me realize he wasn’t the only one in danger of being destroyed. He tilted my face up, traced the line of my jaw, then slid his fingers down my neck, lightly brushing them across my pulse point.
Tiny bits of electricity sparked beneath his caress. I’d almost forgotten he’d Marked me, giving me a way to summon him without using his House dagger. The tiny, nearly invisible S tingled. Nonna said the Mark was a high honor, one that was rarely given.
She hadn’t been pleased.
I immediately tunneled back into myself and forced the addictive quality of his kisses aside. I almost felt the magic of the world recede like the tide going out, its disappointment crashing in reluctant waves around us.
Wrath gently released his hold on me, sensing the emotional shift.
“Why?” I managed to get one word out, my voice still thick with desire.
“I didn’t think you’d prefer an audience.”
An indecent image of him taking me on the dining room table flashed across my mind. It was so vivid I swore I heard sounds of shock from guests as their prince showed me just how sinful he could be, glasses shattering and forks clattering onto the finest demon china as Wrath drove us both over the edge, heedless of anyone who looked on.
I swallowed a nervous giggle. That entrance would certainly make an impression House Wrath would not soon forget. I shoved those scandalous thoughts away.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Though I did wonder why he decided to kiss me now.
His teeth bared in a semblance of a smile, a knowing gleam entering his eyes. Evasion admitted. I couldn’t help but shake my head, my lips curling up at the edges. It was progress, small though it may be. Or maybe I was finally learning to read him better. Though I suspected—in this particular moment—he was also not trying to hide from me as much. I tried not to let wariness ruin the moment.
“I was talking about Marking me. Not whatever”—I nodded between us—“this is.”
He searched my face for a strained minute, the last vestiges of heat leaving his expression. His eyes were nearly solid black now. This time there was no mistaking the rumble that shook the castle. He rolled his shoulders, as if releasing tension in them and between us.
Wrath held his arm out to me, all traces of passion wiped from his face.
Here stood the cold and unfeeling prince of Hell.
“We can’t linger anymore. It’s time to meet my court.”
Our arrival outside the oversized bone-carved doors of the royal dining hall was a blur. I couldn’t recall if Wrath had spoken to me on our seemingly endless walk here, or if he’d escorted me in complete, stoic silence. It was likely the latter; I couldn’t imagine him ever engaging in something as pedestrian as inquiring about my day or the weather.
Not that I would have noticed either way.
There was an odd feeling in my chest; a slight tugging or gnawing or peculiar combination of the two. At first I thought it was panic fluttering against my ribs, fear over what had just transpired between us, but that wasn’t quite right. The feeling was slowly pooling out, traveling from my heart like a meandering stream along the underside of my arm.
Wrath turned his head in my direction, a deep furrow forming in his brow.
I glanced down at what he’d been staring at. My cornicello glowed that pale, unearthly purple of a human’s luccicare. It had happened twice before. Once when I’d first found Wrath standing over the corpse of my twin. And again when I’d found my amulet half-buried in a tunnel after it had been stolen. Right before the almost incorporeal Umbra demons had attacked and Envy had stuck his H
ouse dagger deep into Wrath’s belly.
My hands curled into fists as I remembered the way Wrath’s blood had dried on my hands, under my nails. The utter feeling of…
“Breathe.” His voice was deep and calming. “We will make introductions, then leave if you do not wish to stay and dine with them.”
“I’m not nervous.”
And I was surprised to discover that was true. I let go of Wrath’s arm and brushed my fingers over the cool metal of the amulet for comfort, an old habit I’d probably never break. The devil’s horns, I reminded myself with a small shudder. Not an amulet to ward off evil. This necklace was no longer the innocent charm I’d believed it was all my life.
Upon contact, a small current passed into my skin, alarming me enough to yank my hand back. That was new. I flicked my attention to Wrath. “Did you see that?”
He nodded, not taking his gaze from the shrunken devil horn. Concern was still present in his features. “Are you able to wear it during the meal?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ve worn it for almost two decades.”
“If you experience anything uncomfortable, tell me immediately.”
Wrath seemed on the verge of saying something else but changed his mind at the last moment. Now my heartbeat quickened. “Uncomfortable how?”
“Anything unusual. No matter how small or seemingly innocuous.”
I was about to tell him of the tingling sensation, but it faded into nothing before the words could form on my tongue. Perhaps it was only nerves getting the better of me. I’d traveled to the underworld with one of the Wicked, made a blood bargain with the devil, and was seconds away from meeting the Prince of Wrath’s scheming court of demons.
Not to mention, I’d just been thoroughly ravished by someone who was not my intended and my lips were probably swollen in accusation. While my emotional feelings for Wrath were much more complex, I hadn’t disliked the kiss. In fact, it seemed to have unlocked a truth I didn’t want to examine closely. He’d asked if I could bed someone I hated, and while my mind still churned with anger over his betrayal, my body responded to his touch.
Kingdom of the Cursed Page 10