She looked to Wrath, one silver brow raised. I didn’t swing around in time to see his reaction, but the matron pursed her lips. Her focus darted to my neck before she met my eyes again. “No. The charm won’t trouble you anymore.”
“Watch yourself, Celestia.”
“Go swing a sword or toss a fist at another chunk of rock and begone. Did you not think I heard about your grand show of temper? Domitius and Makaden are fools. But only a larger fool would act as you did. Some might think new sins are stirring. You ought to be mindful, your highness. Others are watching. And they take particular interest in your court.”
“Mind what you say.” His fury whipped around like the gusting winds of a storm. She smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of loving expression a grandmother would give to her grandchild. It was edged in steel. Wrath’s expression was worse. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“Then consider it a suggestion. Regardless, it’s irresponsible to not tell her.”
“Yes, I should very much like to know what you’re both talking about.” Now that my pain was gone, I was getting annoyed. I knew Wrath was still keeping secrets. Secrets that even Celestia felt I had the right to know. And after what just happened between us in the shallows, I wouldn’t tolerate them anymore. I gave Wrath a pointed look. “Someone needs to answer my question. Now.”
Celestia glanced between us. “This is a conversation best carried out between you two. Alone.” This time her grin was pure trouble. “Though you may want to take her to the Temple of Fury, far from where you can be overheard. I have a feeling you two will wake the entire castle.”
With that she ushered us out of her chamber of tinctures and slammed the old oak door at our backs. I stared at the prince. One way or another, he would tell me the truth. I couldn’t fathom how Celestia knew his secret when I didn’t, and my annoyance was giving way to anger. And that emotion was not brought on by this House of Sin.
How many others in his court were privy to the information he kept from me, that pertained to me? It was unacceptable that I was the only one kept in the dark.
“I want the truth. No more lies. You owe me that much.”
He seemed to be very much on the verge of finding a weapon to swing. Though his frustration didn’t appear to be directed at me or even the matron.
Perhaps he was angry with himself. Whatever game or scheme he’d been planning was clearly over. And hadn’t played out the way he’d hoped it would.
“Fuck.” Wrath shoved a hand through his hair and paced away from me. “I thought we’d have more time. But after tonight, it obviously can no longer wait.”
Wrath brought us to his personal library and magicked the room to contain our voices within it. I stood before the giant fireplace, warming my hands. Between the cool temperature in the castle, the exhaustion that swept in following the pain, my thin nightgown, and the dampness of my hair, I was chilled to the core.
Fear was also playing a role with my shudders. Was it possible something happened to my family? If they were harmed—or worse—I wasn’t sure Wrath would tell me.
He knew they were my weakness as much as my strength and I’d bargain my way back to my world and break the contract with Pride. That would certainly complicate his mission and be motive enough for his not being forthright with me.
Wrath’s tense mood wasn’t helping to soothe me, either. It invaded my senses until my own nerves were yanked taut enough to snap.
He paced the room like a large animal trapped in a cage. Prior to our passionate embrace in the lagoon, and then in the corridor outside his bedchamber, I’d never seen him anything but calm; even while furious he was never so… on edge. It was disconcerting, seeing him like this. His snapping at the matron was unusual, too. On occasion he could be gruff, arrogant, or brimming with masculine smugness, but he was never rude.
“Will you sit down?” I rubbed at my arms. “You’re making me nervous.”
He prowled over to his desk and poured two fingers of lavender liquid into his glass. He tossed it back before swiftly refilling it and offered the second drink to me. I shook my head.
Waiting was unbearable. And my stomach was already tied up in several intricate knots. I wanted to know what he had to say, and why whatever it was was affecting him this strongly. Even when he attacked Makaden earlier there had been no regret or worry on his part. Only cold efficiency. He’d carried out a sentence and was impartial to its brutality.
“Is the suspense truly necessary?” My voice was surprisingly calm. It was a complete contradiction to the frantic pounding of my heart. “Whatever you have to say can’t be that bad.”
I hoped.
He finally stopped moving long enough to look me in the eye. His expression was impossible to read. A cool, unnerving calm had settled over him. Trepidation slid down my spine. His demeanor reminded me of when a midwife delivered fatal news.
“Earlier this evening, you asked why I Marked you. I’m not sure you fully understand what it does. Why it is something given so rarely.”
I stared at him, momentarily taken off guard by his sudden shift in topic and how the summoning Mark played a role in this. At least I understood how Celestia had known about this secret; her attention had briefly shifted to my neck. I’d mistakenly thought she was looking at my devil’s horn charm.
“Well?” he prodded, drawing my attention back to him. “What do you know of it?”
“Nonna said it allows someone to summon a prince of Hell without an object that belongs to them. That it’s a great honor not many are given. And that, as long as he draws breath, the demon prince must always answer the summoning. Except, of course, when I tried to summon you and you didn’t show.” My tone turned frosty. “I thought you were dead.”
He stepped back, his focus quickly roving over me in quiet calculation.
“After being injured with Envy’s House dagger, I hadn’t healed enough to travel between realms. I didn’t realize you were upset by my absence.” I gave him a dirty look that seemed to bring out a mischievous tilt of his mouth. The look faded almost instantly. “Do you know why it’s given so rarely?”
“Because princes are ornery bastards and don’t like being summoned at will?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips again before he banished it. “Because it is a magical bond that can never be broken.”
“Impossible. All magic can be undone.”
“Not this bond. Not even in death.”
“But you are immortal.”
“Imagine then, how long that bond lasts.”
We stared at each other as the weight of that truth settled between us. I was struggling to absorb the information, the implications of it. Wrath didn’t speak, his expression turning grim as I sorted through the shock. If the bond lasted even after death, I couldn’t fathom how that worked. Our souls would forever be linked. Except I’d sold mine, and had no clue what that meant for the bond. Or for him.
“Emilia.” His voice was quiet, but held a commanding edge. “Say something.”
“You said to avoid speaking in absolutes. They have a tendency to never stick, remember?”
“Do you recall anything I said the night you were attacked by the Viperidae?”
Wrath moved nearer, watching me carefully with each of his measured steps. I imagined he sensed how close I was to bolting and was doing his best to not make any sudden movements and spook me. His attention strayed to his Mark.
Unconsciously, I reached up to touch the place on my neck where the nearly invisible symbol marred my skin. I’d been in too much pain to absorb anything he’d said that night, and then we were in the bath together and the nightmares had begun soon after.
And before I awoke he’d said…
“I told you to live long enough to hate me. And I meant it.” He reached out and traced the side of my throat, his touch featherlight. “That was the night I Marked you. But that’s not all.”
Panic fluttered inside my rib cage like a trapped bird.
I had a terrible feeling I knew where this was going and I wanted no part in it. I swore my betrothal tattoo started tingling, reminding me it was there. As if I’d forgotten.
I forced my feet to stay firmly planted on the ground, though a large part of me wanted to take flight and race up to my rooms, lock the door, and never emerge.
“Stop.” I turned and started walking away. The new fear was growing. I didn’t want to hear any more of his confession. “Take me back to my chamber.”
“Not until you know the whole truth.”
Wrath now stood before me, his gaze fused to mine. I really despised his supernatural speed. He didn’t reach for me again, didn’t bar my path or crowd me into a corner, but his expression was laced with the promise of staying close to me until I was ready to hear his full confession. I knew he’d wait for an eternity if he had to, he’d wait until the sun burned out and the last star faded from the heavens. And I didn’t have that sort of time to waste.
I finally nodded, granting him permission to continue. To uproot my world once more.
“The magic I used that you’d mistaken for a rebirth spell? It was the Mark. It tethered us, flesh to flesh, in a way that allowed my powers to heal you. You only walked away from that attack because I took the venom into my body through that magical bond.”
His immortal body. A body that would not be cut down or ended by poison or venom or anything else that would have killed me. I swallowed hard. Wrath bonded himself to a sworn enemy just so I would live. The gravity of what he’d done. What he’d sacrificed to save me the night I’d gone after my sister’s amulet, fought the snakelike Viperidae demon, and had almost died, crashed into me. No wonder he’d been furious I’d been so cavalier about it.
His price had been steeper than I’d ever imagined. But then again, so was mine.
“The Mark was more than a way to summon me, or save you. Because of another magical bond we share, it was also part acceptance. I believe you understand where this story is headed, but would you like me to continue?”
My heart was now beating very fast at his choice of words. Acceptance. We weren’t talking about his summoning Mark and the magic he used to take the venom anymore. We were talking about my fear, the one that kept growing even now. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. “I broke the spell after that.”
“You don’t sound certain. Yet the truth has always been there for you to see.”
I looked down at the traitorous ink on his bare arm; the magical tattoos that hadn’t disappeared. I’d suspected my spell reversal hadn’t worked but had pushed those worries aside. He was correct. I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge what it meant. I still didn’t.
“May I?” Wrath reached for my hand but stopped short of touching me. I nodded and he gently took my arm and rolled up the sleeve of my nightdress. He held his forearm to mine, waiting until the truth stopped fluttering around like a frightened bird and settled into me.
There was no denying they matched perfectly. And I knew why.
I dragged my attention from our tattoos up to his face. His beautiful, cold, royal face. The face that belonged to a fallen god. And my destroyer. Anticipation prickled my skin.
“You seek the truth? Allow me to give it freely. Pride has not summoned you to his court, nor will he ever attempt to. At least not for the reason you believe.”
“Because…”
I knew, oh goddess, I knew. Still, I needed him to say the words.
“You are not his intended, Emilia.” The world beneath me tilted. Wrath’s gaze was steady enough to keep both my knees and the realm from quaking. “You are mine.”
THIRTEEN
You are mine. Everything outside of those three words faded. My shock, denial, and utter confusion were simply gone. It was as if I’d stepped from Wrath’s library back into the nothingness of the void. My pulse pounded in every one of my cells. The phrase echoed softly, drummed against each of my nerves, embedded themselves into my heart.
It felt like the magic that bonded us fully came awake. Wrath’s admission somehow wrenched it from its slumber and gave it permission to stretch its arms wide.
This mighty warrior prince, brimming with immortal vitality and power, death and rage made flesh… suddenly, I was drawn into a vision.
Past or future or pure illusion crafted of this sinful world, I couldn’t discern. We were in Wrath’s bed, hundreds of candles flickering across the glossy surface of his silken sheets, his dark colored walls, and the sheen of sweat coating his bare chest.
I was astride the demon prince, my thighs spread wide to accommodate the breadth of him. He watched me with a primal sort of possession, his half-lidded gaze drinking in every inch of my body while my hips undulated, seeking pleasure but not fully. I teased us both by not quite closing the slight distance between our bodies.
He reached for me, but I pinned him to the mattress, nipping playfully at his mouth before losing myself in his slow kisses. Soon he was no longer content with being a spectator; his hands clasped on to my sides, guiding me down onto his fierce arousal. With a whispered word of endearment and a quick upward thrust, we were joined in all ways. For eternity.
I managed to draw in a deep, ragged breath, banishing the vision. Some denial slipped back in. “We are still betrothed.”
Wrath’s eyes momentarily glazed, as if he’d been in that seductive illusion with me and still felt the tremors of pleasure rocking through him. His cool tone did not match the heat lingering in his gaze. “Yes. I am to be your husband.”
“My husband. You, not Pride.”
“Emilia…”
“Please.”
I held up a hand to stall him. Something ancient rattled my bones. I ignored the feeling, instead focusing on the anger unfurling in fiery tendrils, replacing any lingering sense of shock or denial, and clearing my head. This could not be happening. It was a complication I could ill afford for several reasons; the largest being my vow to avenge my sister.
“You lied to me.”
He fell silent for a few moments, then said quietly, “Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances of our union, we are well suited. Enough.”
I stared at him, unblinking. With such a wildly romantic declaration, who needed love or passion? If I wasn’t marrying Pride to carry out my scheme, I was going to marry for love. “Well suited enough” was also grossly misrepresenting the situation. I still wished to strangle Wrath more often than I wished to kiss or bed him. I had a feeling he felt the same way. Which perhaps was an indication of being well suited enough. Ours would be an unholy union of fury.
“Your brother is aware of this?”
“Of course.”
The demon prince seemed braced for a violent outburst; his feet were subtly planted shoulder-width apart, his body angled forward. He deserved a good slap for keeping this from me, but I could hardly wrap my mind around his confession and the strange way his words—innocuous though they were—suddenly heated my blood.
My whole body hummed with awareness, almost preternaturally. I was aware of every one of his movements, from the slight shifting of his feet to his steady breath. My new awareness of him did not alleviate my anger. If anything, it only stoked it more.
New realizations clicked into place. If I was a member of House Wrath, other royal houses—such as Pride’s court—would never share gossip regarding their prince. Any hopes and plans I had of gaining information I needed about Pride’s first wife were ruined.
“This is madness.”
I had taken the chaos my world devolved into after Vittoria’s death and had created a tiny semblance of order by coming here. And I’d only accomplished that because of my vow to her.
Now… now my life was once again spinning out of control because of the Wicked.
Wrath in particular. My fury finally exploded.
“You keep telling me I have a choice. When does that actually happen? Certainly not when it comes to which demon House I choose. Or which prince I thought
I was betrothed to. Let’s not forget my personal favorite, back in Palermo when I asked if you’d make me come here. To rule in Hell. You said you would never force me. Apparently tricking is a perfectly acceptable substitute. Congratulations.” I clapped slowly. “You truly know your way around bending the truth. I must admit, I’m impressed.”
He didn’t look relieved, but he did relax his stance, marginally. I saw the exact moment he recalled the night I was talking about, when I thought I’d broken our betrothal with a spell of un-making. He’d sworn he wouldn’t force me into a marriage or take me to the underworld. Apparently, more half-truths if not full lies.
“You still do. You do not have to complete our marriage.”
I pointed a finger in accusation at the summoning Mark.
“And what about this unbreakable bond? It doesn’t feel like a choice. I realize you had much to sacrifice, too, but at least you were aware of what you were deciding. Regardless, you should have told me before now. I had every right to know.”
“The Mark was the best alternative I could come up with at the time. And thanks to the venom, I didn’t have many other options to explore before it stopped your heart. I asked you to grant me permission to help that night. There was your choice. You betrothed us. I accepted.”
As if I needed a reminder of that grievous error. “Alternative to what?”
“To delay certain urges the acceptance creates.”
“Urges.”
My mouth shut with an audible click as understanding sank in. All of my lust-filled thoughts and feelings toward Wrath had slowly been intensifying. They’d been eroding my distrust and the betrayal I had felt. I’d thought it was only this realm, its tendency toward desire, fueling my emotions, nudging me toward that almost primal frenzy to bed him. But it wasn’t. It was also an ancient need to claim my husband. To secure our marriage.
Goddess above. Wrath was my intended.
I’d been fighting a battle on many fronts and hadn’t even known it. No wonder resisting temptation had been so hard. I’d been battling the bond, the realm, and its nudges for me to face my fears of owning my sexual desire without guilt or shame.
Kingdom of the Cursed Page 15
