Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(11)

If anyone took him from me… my magic surged up, ready to incinerate this realm and every other one that possibly existed. That ancient, rumbling power I’d felt once before cracked an eye deep in my center. Whatever that monster was, it was growing more ravenous the longer it remained awake. It wanted to be set free, to ravage and destroy. And I barely held it at bay.

Buds of rose-gold flame burst into the air above us, the fiery flowers unfurling along with burning roots and stems with thorns. It was a garden made from embers and flames. And I suddenly couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed; all I saw was a rose-gold haze as my rage took magical form. I breathed in a ragged breath and exhaled, half-convinced flames and smoke would follow. Vines with sharp, oversized thorns twisted up around the tub, crept up the walls; in moments, we’d be overtaken by them…

Strong, powerful hands slid down my body, the sensation grounding me as the maelstrom within calmed a fraction. I swallowed hard, my throat parched, as I inhaled deeply and dragged my attention to the demon. Wrath gave me a bemused look but didn’t stop lightly caressing me, like he knew I was still half under the spell of my fury. My attention followed the careful path his hands traveled, my breathing evening out with each long, slow stroke.

My rage simmered, then sputtered out, taking the swell of magic with it. The burning flowers slowly returned to embers, then charred, the ash drifting away on a magical wind Wrath must have summoned. The vines also receded back to wherever I’d wrenched them from. I hadn’t even known that was something I could do, but Wrath didn’t appear surprised.

I watched in silence as the room returned to normal, though inside my emotions were still churning like the sea after a particularly brutal storm. Wrath’s caresses slowed, then stopped, his hands now resting on my waist. We stared at each other, not acknowledging I’d lost control.

“I thought my death would no longer excite you as it once would have.” His tone was light and teasing, but I detected an undercurrent of tension. “Should I be worried?”

Should I be? I glanced down, noticing that I’d somehow straddled him and that my hands were fisted in his half-torn-off clothing. I very much appeared to be on the verge of savagery. Maybe he should worry. I could barely contain myself once I entered that dark place filled with rage. It was like all humanity had been stripped away and I was nothing but an elemental force meant to destroy.

Though, upon closer inspection, the rock-hard bulge nestled against my apex said Wrath enjoyed my rough handling. I eased my death grip on his clothing. “I want to find this blade.”

The smile that had been tugging at the corners of his lips formed into a wicked grin. “While I admitted to being fond of knife play, I’m afraid this one is off-limits. We can play with my dagger. The magic imbued in it won’t hurt me.”

“Don’t make light of this. If Vittoria gets that hexed blade first…”

“She’ll have to get in a very long line of demons searching for it. Envy’s spies, for one, are always listening for whispers of it across the realm. If it’s in the Seven Circles, he’ll find it.”

“Because Envy—of all demons—is precisely who I’d trust with a blade that can kill you.”

I silently counted to ten. How quickly the princes forgot stabbing and gutting one another. A thousand centuries could pass and I’d never forget the way Wrath’s blood had coated my hands after Envy had sunk his House dagger into him.

“My brother is many things, but a murderer he is not.” Wrath tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear. While he could make that claim with certainty, I couldn’t. My sister would slay our family if it served her ultimate goal. I seemed to be exempt from her vengeance, which meant she needed me for her plan. For now, at least. “When the blade is close, I can sense its magical imprint. I’m not entirely without defense, my lady. Most would think twice before attacking me.”

Unless they were confident the weapon they had could put him down.

“How close?” I caught the slight wince he wasn’t quick enough to hide, and dread filled me again. “I see. So it has to be extremely close for you to sense it. Wonderful.”

I stood up, bathwater running down my body in rivulets as I stepped out of the tub. The idea of relaxing was no longer appealing. I wanted to tear this realm apart, inch by inch, and find this hexed blade. Wrath arched a brow but didn’t say a word as I bypassed the towel and strode toward his bedchamber, dripping all over his immaculate tile.

My clean clothes were in the next chamber, and without thinking, I opened the door to the corridor that connected our rooms. The man standing on the other side dropped the fist he’d been about to knock with, his tawny skin going scarlet.

“Devil’s blood, Em.” Anir cringed. “Warn someone before you march around like”—he waved a hand at me—“that.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Have you ever seen a naked woman before?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“What about men? Have you seen a man bathing or strutting around without a stitch of clothing on? Considering where we live, I imagine you’ve seen much more than that.”

“I have, but—”

“Then kindly step aside and stop blushing like a boy in his small clothes.”

Wrath’s human second-in-command glanced up at the ceiling, as if requesting divine assistance. When he brought his attention back down, he stared at a point over my shoulder. The prickle of heat indicated Wrath had come up behind me.