Pride tensed beneath my touch. I doubted I would have noticed if we hadn’t been dancing, which was exactly why I wanted to broach this subject on the dance floor.
“Losing someone you love,” I continued when he didn’t speak, “is a horrible kind of pain. I would not wish that on my worst enemy.”
“As I’m sure my brothers and I are counted amongst those you consider foes, it pleases me to hear that.”
It was only partially true, but I didn’t correct him. With the next rotation around the dance floor, his mask slipped back, revealing his mouth. A small diagonal scar carved through his upper lip and ended just below the lower one. I’d seen it before and hoped the rapid beating of my heart was mistaken for the increased tempo he used as we continued dancing.
We were gliding closer to the edge of the dance floor, nearing an alcove hidden by a series of large potted ferns. Just as we stepped close to it, I swung us around and pulled him into the shadowy spot, far from prying eyes. I couldn’t see his full expression, but I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pressed him against the wall and brought my lips to his ear.
Needing no further encouragement, he tugged off his mask, and dropped it to the floor, then went to work removing mine, mistaking our current position for something it was not.
A reaction I’d been hoping for.
“Your brother thinks you’re debauched. Too drunk on wine and lovers to bother with anything of importance.” I pulled back enough to study him. Wariness entered his features. “Yet you were leading your guards around the grounds of House Pride this morning, looking anything but intoxicated.”
“I beg your pardon?” He feigned confusion like a skilled actor. I noticed he didn’t directly address my question, giving him a way to avoid speaking a lie. “I’m here for kissing, not an inquisition. If you’re interested in talking, I can find more scintillating topics.”
He brought his mouth close to mine and I stalled him with a palm to the chest.
“Allow me to speak more clearly, your majesty. Do not stand here, pretending as if I do not recall that you were the one who made me dismount from my horse. Why did you hold me hostage at your House for so long? Was it to hide how many guards you have patrolling your grounds?”
“You cannot expect me to share information with another House.”
“Fine. Answer this for me. Why are you hiding the fact you aren’t nearly as drunk and prideful as you’d like others to believe?”
“As a matter of principle, I rarely show my true face to anyone. You would be wise to do the same.”
My gaze strayed to his scar. I doubted that was the only reason he chose to hide. “You didn’t show up to the monastery that night; you possessed Antonio. To maintain anonymity?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking about the curse?”
A familiar demon deflection tactic; answering one question with another. “I know my birth signaled the end of your curse. Therefore you must have had other reasons to hide.”
His temper flared. My hit to his pride had reached its mark. “I was not hiding. I was otherwise occupied.”
“Well, while I’m sure we could talk in circles for eternity, I didn’t pull you aside for a frustrating chat.”
“Then let’s get to the fun part.” Pride dragged his hand down my silhouette and slowly drew it back up, pausing near my thigh. His brows quirked. “What do we have here?”
“My dagger.” I grinned as he abruptly unhanded me. “The fun part is this. I will cross your lands, twice, on a time and date of my choosing, without any interference from you, your guards, or anyone who calls House Pride or that circle their home.”
“Why should I agree to such a bargain?”
“Because I know one of your secrets.”
“My bedroom talents are already widely known.”
His teasing was another attempt to deflect. I had him cornered and he was showing his teeth by smiling as if he was unbothered. I understood where the term devil-may-care originated. Pride exuded a carefree attitude perfectly. Suspiciously so.
“I won’t tell your brother about the slumber root. You’ve certainly got enough to knock out an entire army. And that, your highness, sounds like information you’d be desperate to keep to yourself. Unlike the bedroom talents you boast about.”
His gaze was hard, calculating. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he jerked his head in agreement. “Fine.”
“You’ll need to be more specific.”
“You may cross my lands, twice, without any issue from anyone who calls my circle their own. In exchange, you will not tell my brother about my slumber root. There.” He glared down his nose at me. “Satisfied?”
“More than you can possibly imagine, your highness.”
Suspicion crept into his features. Rightly so. He’d just made a grievous error.
I turned and strode out of our little alcove, but didn’t make it far before I was intercepted by another prince. Envy’s mask was off now, too, and his green eyes practically glowed as he glanced behind me. “Well played, Shadow Witch. One stone, two princes.”
“Are you drunk already?”
“Not on spirits.” He flashed the smile that showed his dimple. “I’ve come to collect you, guest of honor. It’s time for you to feed us your biggest fear. And I cannot tell you how hungry I suddenly am.”
THIRTY-ONE
I caught sight of Fauna in the crowd; her brown skin had paled considerably beneath her mask. My friend looked around, as if trying to find a way she could distract the assembly and stop this nightmare before it began. Anir stood beside her, his expression radiating enough anger to be worthy of his adopted House of Sin.
He seemed poised to grab the blade I knew was hidden under his evening attire and fight his way to my side. His hard gaze promised anyone who tried stopping him would suffer his fury. He and Fauna both knew there was no getting out of this, but they did not have to like it, or make it easy on the royals. Despite the abundance of worry coursing through me, their show of friendship bolstered my spirits.
I pushed away from Envy’s proffered arm and glanced around, searching for Wrath. I needed his familiar scowl to calm my nerves. I rolled up onto my tiptoes, looking past shoulders and heads for the demon prince’s imposing figure. Of course, he went missing again.
I didn’t see Lust or Greed in the crowd, either. And Sloth must be in attendance—there had been seven princes in wolf masks earlier—but he was also noticeably absent. Or lounging somewhere. Perhaps there was a gaming room that they’d retired to. Part of me wanted to dash around the castle until I located them. Which was only stalling the inevitable. Maybe it was a blessing that all seven princes would not be privy to my greatest fear.
Pride slipped out from the alcove where we’d struck our bargain and sauntered over to a column, leaving me to face this trial on my own. Not that I was surprised.
“Come.” Envy didn’t bother controlling the excitement in his voice. “Allow me to introduce you to the master of ceremonies.”
I followed him through the parting crowd, pulse pounding with each step we took closer to a dais that had been brought in. A blue-skinned demon with red eyes waited, wicked dagger in hand. It was a miracle my heart hadn’t thrashed out of my body. I held each side of my beaded skirts as I walked up the stairs to stand beside the demon. He nodded once, then lifted the blade above his head, showing off the runes carved into it, the crowd going uproarious at the sight.
“Without further ado, if there are no objections, we will release the biggest fear from our guest.” The master of ceremonies held out a hand to me. “Lady Emilia. If you will be so kind as to offer your wrist. I must take a bit of blood for the magic to work.”
Panic thrummed in each of my cells. I could barely see past the little white spots floating across my vision as I slowly lifted my arm. All our lives Nonna Maria wanted us to keep our blood from our enemies. And here I stood, offering it freely. To a blade etched with magical runes that would steal my secrets.
I held my arm steady, fighting the urge to yank it back and flee.
To his credit, the master of ceremonies did not radiate joy or triumph. He offered a sympathetic look and whispered, “One tiny pinch and it will be over shortly.”
The blade felt like ice against my skin. Panic seized me. This was really happening. I squeezed my eyes shut, silently praying to the goddesses for this to—
“Stop.” The deep voice echoed. “I will be the one to sacrifice a secret of the heart.”
The metal disappeared from my skin at once. I opened my eyes, looking from the master of ceremonies to the crowd. As one, the audience turned, staring with open shock at the demon who’d spoken. I followed their stares until I found him.
Wrath stood with his arms crossed, his attention fixed on me.
“With all due respect, your majesty, you cannot substitute yourself…”
“I won the hunt. I am claiming it as my prize.”
The master of ceremonies shook his head as if carefully considering his phrasing. “I… I do not believe it can be completed without great cost to you.”
“I am well aware of the price.”
I watched in disbelief as Wrath made his way down the aisle and up the stairs of the dais. Was he afraid my biggest fear would have worse repercussions than revealing his truth? Wrath trained me to withstand demonic influence, but he’d never seemed concerned about this portion of the feast. Had he always known he’d stand in for me?
He was scheming, but I had no clue what his goal was.
Without taking his gaze from mine, he slipped out of his suit jacket and rolled back the sleeve of his left arm. At the sight of our matching tattoos, a murmur went up in the crowd. Apparently not everyone knew our betrothal had been forced.
For them, it was one thing to woo a prince, and apparently another to magically bind him into matrimony. Perhaps they worried his unexpected show of heroics was brought on by a magic spell. The master of ceremonies stared openmouthed at the demon prince. I doubted this prince had ever offered something like this before. Even I couldn’t believe it. Wrath, the demon who valued his secrets more than anyone I knew, was offering one up.
For me. In front of every enemy court. It was not a declaration of love, but it was close.
Wrath finally tore his attention from me. “Get the dagger.”
“I…” The master of ceremonies fumbled for the blade, clearly uncomfortable with carving into one of the rulers of Hell. “Before we begin, there is still the matter of needing your brothers to vote on this being your prize.”
“Oh, for shit’s sake. Enough.” Pride shot up from where he’d been slumped against a column, his silver eyes narrowing in warning. “This is incredibly dull. Surely there is some other more diverting prize to be claimed? I find secrets tiresome.” He stared at his brother in challenge. “Perhaps this year’s sacrifice will come in the form of a forbidden tryst. I’m sure we can find a volunteer willing to bed the guest of honor. Then my brother may pick a different prize.”
The assembled demons subtly looked from Wrath to their king, their breath held.
“No.”
Wrath’s tone was cold enough to rival ice. He glanced to me, probably to see if I’d been intrigued by the idea and he’d spoken too quickly. I imagined if I said yes, he’d stand back and not utter a word of protest if I chose to bed Pride. No matter how much he’d hate it.
And hate it he would. Wrath’s mask of indifference had slipped and he hadn’t put it back.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding.” The devil’s smile was sinful as Wrath cast a wary glance his way. Pride was practically preening, pleased he’d laid the perfect bait and Wrath had fallen into his true trap. “I did not mean to suggest I would be offering services. As Lady Emilia is your intended, I believe you ought to be the one to bed her, brother.”
I stiffened. If Wrath and I shared a bed…
… we’d be that much closer to completing our marriage bond. And Pride knew it. He looked undisturbed by the idea; if anything, he seemed eager for me to marry his brother. Which indicated he never cared about the contract I signed and I’d never been his intended. So what in the seven hells was really going on? If the devil’s curse had been broken by Vittoria’s and my birth, I still couldn’t understand why the demons had lied about the brides.
Envy, who’d been glowering at the interruption, suddenly perked up.
Wrath looked to me then, his expression blank except for the slight tightness around his mouth. It was the only indication he wasn’t happy with the turn of events.
Whatever he saw in my face had his tone going hard when he addressed his brother again. “Pick another option or stand back and let’s vote to complete the ceremony.”
“I told you,” Pride drawled, “I’ve grown quite bored of secrets. It’s time for a new tradition. I’m sure our host is willing to oblige.”
Pride nodded to Gluttony. The prince of this circle rubbed his hands together. “Indeed. I do love breaking the rules. You have two choices. Either bed each other in one of the glass chambers here.” He stood aside and with a grand flourish, yanked a gold cord that held draperies back. Inside, an unoccupied candlelit bedroom softly glowed. “Or—”
“Your royal suite,” I offered, stunning everyone, myself most of all.
“My suite?” Wrath stared at me as I nodded. “We do not have to change the rules, Emilia. If I want to claim the fear as my prize, I will.”
“Only if you gain enough votes.” Gluttony’s grin widened as Wrath’s temper rumbled through the ballroom. “You may have won the hunt, but this is no longer your prize to claim. We’re substituting the guest of honor’s sacrifice. And she’s made her decision. You may choose the royal suite, the glass room, or, best yet, you may stay right here. Take her over the dais, or against the column. Then we can be sure you complete the task.”
“Unless you’d like to stand aside and have someone else volunteer,” Envy offered, his too-innocent smile indicating he was using the sin he ruled over to taunt his brother. “My vote would be on Gluttony. He is the host.”
“No.”
Wrath’s tone indicated there was no chance in this circle of Hell that he would turn this into a spectator sport and would go to war if his brothers tried any maneuvering.
Gluttony took it all in stride and I wondered if his mood ever soured or if he was permanently happy. “A tryst in your royal suite it is.” He clapped twice. “Master of ceremonies. Complete the ritual.”
Wrath paced around the quiet royal suite, a mighty predator caged. It did not matter that his cage was a well-appointed bedroom suite with chilled champagne, chocolate-covered fruits, crystal chandeliers, and silk sheets. And a fiancée who craved his touch.
Even if he hadn’t offered one of his secrets to allow me to keep mine, I would want him. It was time to stop lying to myself. To stop pretending that it was only the seductive magic of this world and our bond creating this attraction. I wanted him. It was his imposing figure I looked for in each crowded room. His protection I welcomed and his sin I aligned best with.
Regardless of our past and the circumstances that brought us here, to this moment, together, I wanted this night of passion with him.
The prince did not appear to feel the same. He prowled over to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel, watching as the flames turned silver and writhed before him. He did not speak on our walk here, nor did he look at me once we’d entered his suite.
Without turning to meet my stare, he said, “It’s not too late for me to give up a secret instead. We do not have to do this. I vowed you would have a choice. I stand by my word. My brothers will not vote against me, no matter what they said earlier.”
“I did choose.”
He finally turned, his expression thunderous. “Choosing between two less-than-ideal options is not a choice.”
My lips curved upward. “Will bedding you be less than ideal?”
“Do not make light of the situation.”
“I’m not.” My voice lost the teasing edge. “I’ve never wanted to give up a fear or secret. I cannot say the same about desiring you.”
His focus slid from my eyes to my mouth. “This is not the same.”
“Is it the most romantic proposition? There’s no denying it isn’t. However, I cannot say I’m displeased. As you’re an expert at sensing emotions and lies, I should think you know that. Therefore, I’m left to believe you’re upset because you feel as if your choice has been stolen.” A different thought occurred. “Or perhaps you don’t want to bed me.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“If you visited someone else last night and do not want to be with me, I understand. We can go back downstairs and I’ll complete the fear ceremony. You do not owe me anything.”
Wrath stalked across the room, and I held my ground. He gently set his hands on my hips and pulled me against him. A little thrill shot through me where our bodies connected. Even through his trousers and my beaded gown, I could feel his truth pressed against me.
“You see?” His voice was rough, deep. It scraped against some inner part of me, making me want to lean into him more. “It is not a matter of wanting you, Emilia.”
“Then what is it?”
“Call it selfish. But I do not want there to be any outside forces driving you into my arms.” He tilted my face up, his lips hovering above mine. “When you decide to come to my bedchamber, I want you to know whose sheets you’re climbing between. I want you to call out my name.”
“I know who you are.”
“Do you?” His lips lightly trailed across my skin, almost touching the sensitive area of my neck, but not quite, as he brought his mouth to my ear. “I should like to hear you say it.”
“Your brothers only said ‘tryst.’” I abruptly changed the subject. “They did not specify that we needed to…”
“To?” He leaned back, his mouth twisting up on one side as he waited. The devil knew exactly what I meant. And he’d feign confusion until I said it.
“Fuck. Or fornicate. Though I’ve only heard the first word in this circle, repeated like a wicked prayer when I left the pleasure garden last night.”
Kingdom of the Cursed Page 32