“Cocksure. Boastful. An inflated sense of self-image.” Wrath checked each one off on his fingers. “You’re right. It doesn’t sound as if you’re under any prideful influence at all.”
“You know what else I believe? I believe you’d secretly like me to own you. At least in certain… areas.”
I moved with deliberate, even strides across the room, allowing my hips to sway. My skirt fluttered to the sides, showing off the snake winding up my leg.
If Wrath wanted a lesson, I’d give him one he’d not soon forget.
I backed him against the wall, my lips curving upward as I dragged a finger across his chest, then followed the line of buttons down to his trousers. Twisted demon. He was already aroused. I flicked my gaze up to his, watching intently as I slid my palm over the bulge. Air hissed through his teeth. I followed the hard outline over his pants and his breathing quickened.
The demonic magic he’d been wielding snapped and fell away. Just as I suspected it would. Wrath’s personal set of morals had revealed themselves during each of our lessons, and I’d been watching carefully, learning anything I could even when I’d been unable to block his influence. He never used magic when things turned romantic.
“Emilia.”
It was more plea than warning. Now that his influence was gone, our lesson was only just beginning. I leaned into him, pressing my chest against his, enjoying the way his focus shifted to my décolletage. I knew precisely how tight my corset was and how our new position showed off my assets best from his vantage point. He seemed torn between looking his fill and maintaining gentlemanly manners. Which wouldn’t do. I wanted him completely undone.
Suddenly, an image so vivid and real slipped into my senses, confusing reality with illusion. For a startling moment, I was in two places at once.
There was a low hum of music filtering in, strings and pianos, the sound dulled and haunting through the walls. We’d snuck off together, far from the boisterous sounds of a party taking place down the corridor. Shadows hid him from view, but he found me quickly enough. His hand cupped my breast over my bodice, his kisses plundering and possessive. My passion burned as intensely as his. I nipped at his lip, daring him to do the same. He did one better. He tugged the top of my gown down, replacing his daring hand with his mouth.
I slipped inside his trousers, finding him hard and wanting, then smiled as he cursed at the first stroke I made. I brought my mouth to his ear. “Shhh. They’ll hear us.”
I took him in hand as if it had been something I’d done hundreds of times. I knew exactly what he liked and how to elicit the most pleasure. His body, his heart; I knew them as well as my own. I used that knowledge to my advantage now.
He did not seem to mind.
Several moments later, he shuddered against me, his breathing ragged and hard. Once his trembling ceased, I rolled up onto my toes and kissed him, long and deep. “Meet me in the garden at the witching hour tonight. You know where.”
He’d barely managed to refasten his trousers when I ran off, glancing over my shoulder one last time before I slipped from the darkened room.
Wrath called my name, drawing me back into the present. I’d never had a vision like that and had no idea what to make of it. Something about it didn’t feel like the realm’s magic.
It felt like a memory.
Wrath traced the curve of my cheek, his voice quiet. “Emilia—”
“I…”
I stepped away from him, giving us both much-needed distance and considered my next words with care. I felt as if I were losing my grip on reality. Concern slipped into his features, so I did my best to pull in that prideful feeling again. To wield it to my advantage.
I purposely dropped my focus to his trousers; there was no longer any sign of attraction or lust. Apparently, my distraction hadn’t gone unnoticed.
I offered him a cutting smile. “It seems our lesson is over.”
Before my mask slipped, I spun on my heel and headed out the door. Something strange was occurring. And it seemed to happen whenever Wrath and I were in passionate situations.
If they were memories and not illusions created from this realm… then I might have discovered another one of Wrath’s secrets. Except I had no idea how any of it could be possible.
But I was damn well going to find out.
TWENTY-SIX
Snowflakes danced wickedly outside my window.
Frost crept up the panes like wintery vines. I sat on the wide sill, staring out at a world blanketed in a fresh layer of snow. Night was quickly falling, tinging everything deep shades of blue. Two days had come and gone since I last saw the prince of this circle. I’d been avoiding him after the vision, still unsure if it was memory or fantasy. It had to be something the realm conjured, but it felt so real it was difficult to shake off.
The Matron of Curses and Poisons hadn’t yet returned, and I did not want to confide in anyone what I’d seen or experienced. I’d been hoping she could create a tonic or might know of any magic that would unlock the truth hidden inside me.
If it had been a memory, then I’d been to this realm before. And Wrath and I… I couldn’t fathom how he’d pretended to not know me back in Palermo. There were times there, though, I wondered how he knew details I hadn’t shared. Like where I lived. My name. I’d comforted myself by thinking it had something to do with what I’d thought was his rebirth spell—that night I’d been attacked by the Viperidae, we’d been inside each other’s minds for brief seconds.
Was that what was happening now? It was possible I was seeing into his memories, witnessing him with someone else. Maybe I was experiencing the world through her eyes, reliving her memories. I knew demons could possess people, but I’d never heard of a witch doing the same. At this point, nothing would surprise me.
I’d spent the better part of the last two days trying to decipher all possible meanings. No theory was too silly. I wrote everything down. From thinking Wrath might be Pride, to considering if I was the First Witch, cursed to forget as punishment for what I’d done.
After a while, details started to blur, confusing me more. I couldn’t recall if I’d seen Wrath’s face, or if it was just an impression I’d had of him.
I remembered the room being dark in the vision, the sounds of a distant party, but couldn’t remember the sound of my lover’s voice. If he’d sworn loudly when he found his release, or if it had been a murmur. And if it wasn’t Wrath with me in the vision…
I exhaled, my breath creating clouds on the windowpane. That complicated matters even more. When I arrived at the feast tonight, I might recognize the lover from that memory. If we danced together, would that unlock other memories that had been secreted away?
I slipped from the window’s edge and leafed through the notes I’d made from the enchanted skulls. Past, present, future, find. I’d thought it was referencing the Triple Moon Mirror Envy was after. Now I wondered if it encompassed more than that.
Were those visions part of my past, or my future? If they were images of the future, perhaps it related to the prophecy. The part where I could set right a terrible wrong.
When I’d been under Lust’s influence, I’d had that impression of choice, balance. That I could damn everyone, or make something right. But what?
I kept circling back to the devil’s slain bride. Could falling in love be the key to breaking the curse? On the surface it seemed simple. But it wasn’t. I’d need to fall madly in love with Pride. And to accomplish that, I’d have to end my betrothal to Wrath for good.
“Goddess help me, this is a disaster.”
Pride would be at the feast. If he’d been the mysterious lover in my vision, and if it was part of the past and not the future, it was entirely possible neither one of us would be able to deny the sizzling connection in person. Which frightened me.
If it was the past I saw… then that would mean I was already Pride’s wife. Maybe to break the curse I had to fall in love with him all over again, without any memories of us.
A theory so outlandish, it just might be true. Which could be the real reason Pride hadn’t invited me to his circle. Maybe it went deeper than my accidental betrothal to Wrath.
Without knowing what I’d done, maybe I’d broken Pride’s heart and damned them all by choosing the wrong brother. It would also explain Wrath’s hatred when I first summoned him and he demanded I reverse the spell before it was too late.
A knock on my outer door drew me from my reverie. “Come in.”
Harlow bobbed a quick curtsy, then held a dress bag aloft. “The cobbler will have your shoes ready shortly. Did you want me to lay out the gown for you?”
“Please.”
Through all of my worries, I’d completely lost track of time. We’d be traveling to House Gluttony within the hour. This evening marked the first of three nights dedicated to the Feast of the Wolf, an event I’d rather avoid if not for the potential information I could gather. Thinking about having my greatest fear ripped from me caused my heart rate to triple, though.
At first I’d been worried my greatest fear was my secret mission of vengeance being revealed. Now it could be my fear about the creature wailing below the statue, my family dying at the hands of our enemies, my magic never returning, or the possibility that my memories had been stolen and the life I’d been living was all a lie.
The biggest fear of all kept circling like a portent of death and doom.
I couldn’t stop thinking that I was the devil’s bride and I hadn’t been murdered—I’d been cursed to forget. My palms dampened. There was no possible way that was true.
Still, the thought haunted me the entire time I prepared for tonight’s opening event. True or not, if I couldn’t shove the fear aside; it would be revealed to each of my enemies and their subjects. Not only would it be humiliating, it would indicate I had not left the past behind when I’d sold my soul and was actively working to destroy one of them.
If the demon princes were suspicious of my motivations for coming here before, they’d have those thoughts confirmed. And I didn’t want to know what they’d do for retribution.
I descended the stairs, shoulders back, head held high. I’d been expecting to see Fauna and Anir. Instead the Prince of Wrath waited, dressed to devastate, his attention riveted to mine. I hadn’t chosen to wear one of his signature House colors. Not that he seemed put off by the crushed red velvet gown, or the way it clung to my curves before pooling around my feet.
In fact, I almost missed a step when I noticed the color of his shirt. A deep, enticing cranberry peeked out from the layers of black waistcoat and swallowtail suit jacket. Either Harlow or the seamstress must have given him information on my attire.
I reached the bottom step and slowly pivoted in place. My shoes were the same snake design from a few nights before, but these were deep gold instead of black. It was the one tribute I made to my current House of Sin. Regardless of if any of my theories were correct, in this reality, in this version of myself, this was where I felt comfortable. There was no use denying that I aligned with the sin of wrath more than any other.
“Well?” I prompted. “How do I look?”
Wrath’s gaze darkened into a shadow of sinful promise. “I suspect you know.”
“Indulge me, then.”
“Trouble incarnate.”
“Mighty praise coming from one of the Wicked.” I glanced around the empty foyer. Silence stretched between us, which didn’t help to soothe my growing nerves. The more I tried not to focus on my theories, the more they haunted me. “Where are Fauna and Anir?”
“By now they’re nearly at Gluttony’s already.”
“Who else will be joining us?”
“No one.” He held out his arm for me. I wondered if he knew he also looked like trouble. And temptation. But if Pride was the man from my vision, Wrath might also look like a fond memory before the night was through. Something pinched in my center at the thought. “Tonight we’ll use my carriage. It’s considered rude to arrive at the Feast by transvenio magic.”
I accepted his arm and we made our way out of the looming set of double doors.
Outside, our conveyance sat waiting, bits of snow sticking to the roof like powdered sugar. Wrath’s carriage was darker than the night with flecks of gold in the lacquered finish. There was no driver waiting, only horses.
“Will you be driving the carriage?”
“No. My power will guide it.”
“Transvenio magic is rude, but steering a carriage with magic is not?” I shook my head. “I may live a thousand years and will never understand these ridiculous demon rules.”
The four ebony steeds snuffed the air, their red eyes the only mark that they were not quite the same as horses in the mortal world. Wrath set about checking their bridles, tsking a little when one of the hell horses nibbled at him.
I drew in a quick breath. I’d been wrong. Their eyes weren’t the only thing that marked them as different. Their gleaming, metal teeth indicated they were more predator than simple equine. The hell horse nipped again, more insistently.
“Gentle, Death.”
“Goddess give me strength.” I eyed the three other beasts. “Famine, Pestilence, and War, I presume.” Wrath’s grin was confirmation enough as he glanced over his shoulder. “I cannot believe you named them after the four horsemen, and yet I’m not terribly surprised.”
He strolled over to where I waited, then handed me up into the carriage. “Perhaps they aren’t merely named after them.”
Wrath settled onto the plush velvet bench seat across from me, his expression smug as I let that information sink in. With a quick rap on the ceiling, we were off.
The wheels clattered across the stone, but the sound and jarring feeling was muffled by the well-stuffed seating and plush, layered carpets. I’d never ridden inside such an opulent conveyance. I’d never ridden in a shabby one, either. Before my ride with the emissary, the closest I’d ever come to traveling via carriage was a horse-drawn buggy.
I drew my brows together. That couldn’t be correct… after disembarking from a ship, we had to travel by carriage to visit Nonna’s friend in northern Italy. Except I couldn’t quite remember how we’d gotten there.
Wrath studied me. “You appear as if you’re in the midst of a vexing riddle.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I suppose it’s mostly nerves.”
“About the fear portion of the festival?”
“The fear, the whole ordeal. Meeting the rest of your brothers. Dancing.”
He was silent for a while. I doubted he’d expected such honesty and was unsure of how to proceed. Finally, he shifted forward. “No harm will befall you. I will not allow it.”
“Perhaps it’s your brothers you should be concerned for.”
“If they are stupid enough to ignite your fury, they deserve to feel the burn.”
I smiled at him. “And yet you still toss matches onto the kerosene all the time.”
“Wrath and fury are my sins of choice. I like your temper.”
After an indeterminate amount of time of descending and ascending a few mountain peaks, our carriage abruptly came to a halt. Wrath peered outside, his expression once again carefully set into that cold, unforgiving mask.
“We’re here.” He reached for the handle, then paused. His muscles were tense beneath his well-tailored suit. He shook his head once, then looked at me. “Should you find yourself in need of a partner, I will dance with you.”
Before I could react, he shoved the door open and exited the carriage. His hand appeared from the shadows, waiting for mine. I gave myself a moment to gather my emotions. I hadn’t lied to Wrath about the cause of my nerves, but I hadn’t expressed all of the reasons behind my pounding heart. I would now have an opportunity to speak with every demon prince of Hell. And one of them, quite possibly, had orchestrated my sister’s murder.
Much would either be gained or lost over the next few days. And, if my sister’s murderer was here, there was no telling i
f he’d try to rip my heart from my chest, too.
If I was about to enter into a battle for my life, at least I had Wrath at my side.
His fingers tightened on mine as I stepped from the carriage and took in House Gluttony. It was massive, if unusual in design. A cross between open Roman terraces with tall arched windows and medieval towers. It was built into the side of a steep mountaintop and looked like something out of a gothic fairy tale.
“Prepare yourself.” Wrath escorted me up a small flight of stairs and stopped just outside the castle’s grand entrance. “My brother’s debauchery knows no limits.”
Words failed me as we walked inside House Gluttony. The prince of this circle did not hide his namesake sin or vices. Immediately upon entering the palatial receiving foyer, we were greeted by the most scandalous scene I’d ever borne witness to.
A table the size of four oversized mattresses was prominently on display, forcing guests to squeeze around it if they were to enter the castle beyond. The table was not covered in food or wine. It was covered in lovers. Some were engaged in acts I’d never dreamed of.
On one end, a woman lay naked, her legs spread wide as a man poured a trail of chocolate sauce over her breasts, down her stomach, and across the apex of her body. He tossed the jug aside, dropped to his knees and began feasting. There was no romance, no seduction. Only pure, animalistic hunger. Not that the woman seemed to mind.
My attention darted to the opposite end of the table, where a young man lay with an arm bent behind his head, watching as his partner sucked whipped cream from his arousal, and another lover entered her from where she was bent over. My face flamed at the erotic scene.
Before I’d learned that Pride wasn’t my intended, Wrath had mentioned his brother inviting lovers into our bed. I now understood what he meant. I also knew with vivid clarity what Fauna had been asking when she’d inquired about taking my mouth to Wrath.
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