Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(14)

His grip tightened in my hair, possessive and an edge shy of painful, yet it made my knees clench together from the pleasure steadily building in me. It did not matter that we were in a rival demon House. That at any moment someone might spy us in a compromising position. Only pleasure mattered. And maybe it was greed fueling me, or maybe I didn’t mind the thought of others greedily watching us from the shadows. In fact, that scandalous thought made the honeyed heat in my belly spread, made me grow bolder still, hungrier for as much pleasure as I could get. I tugged him closer, urging him to thrust deeper, to not deny me my greed-fueled desire to taste him. I wanted him to mark me in every way, just as I intended to mark him.

“Fuck.” He needed no further encouragement.

Wrath pumped into my mouth as if he were pounding that slick junction of my body, claiming me with the same fervor I’d soon claim him. That very area throbbed at the thought of him being there now, dominating because I wished him to, but only in that one instance.

His awareness of my growing arousal must have finally sent him careening over the edge. With one last thrust and a groan that was more animal than human, he came undone. He gently stroked my hair back, massaging my skull tenderly as if he’d just realized how tightly he’d been holding on.

I swallowed him down, then gave one final, slow lick, grinning as he twitched from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Godsdamn, Emilia.”

“That was… incredible.” I went to my feet, feeling immensely gratified. “I’m not sure who enjoyed that more.”

“I’m curious to test that theory.” He reached for me, a sinful twinkle in his eye, when the trance we’d both been in was suddenly broken by the sound of a throat clearing.

I yanked my attention up and froze. The Prince of Lust leaned against a doorway that led down a narrow corridor, arms crossed. I hadn’t seen the corridor or the prince. Not that I really cared to look for either; Wrath had held all my greedy attention.

“If you’re both quite through,” Lust said, managing to sound immensely bored despite what he’d witnessed, “there’s a little matter of murder to attend to.” Even fully dressed, I still felt the heat of a blush kissing my cheeks at being caught. Lust watched his brother, shaking his head slightly. “Put your cock away and follow me. You’ll have plenty of time to pleasure your bride later. Greed sent me to see what was taking so long. He’s losing his temper. And you know how irksome that can become when any of us feel another sin.”

“Leave us.” Wrath’s voice was glacial, like his expression. “We’ll be there shortly.”

“Afraid I can’t do that,” Lust volleyed back. “Wouldn’t want you to get distracted again.”

The greedy influence was gone, but the desire wasn’t. I was still tempted to ignore Lust and Greed in favor of finishing what Wrath and I had started. I wanted to know what my prince had planned for me. “Did you—”

“See you blow my brother until he questioned his belief in the Divine?” A devious smile curled the edges of his lips. “Let’s just say I was impressed, Shadow Witch. And that’s saying a lot for the lord of pleasure.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask.” I shot him a nasty look as Wrath assisted me out of the boat. “Did you use your influence on us?”

“Didn’t need to. You both greedily went after your pleasure on your own. That little tableau was all you—and our demonic host. If it makes you feel better, I called out several times. I assumed you wanted the attention, so I gave it.” Lust cocked his head. “Are you planning on putting that vicious little mouth on me while my brother pleasures you from behind?”

My body flushed crimson. “You’re disgusting.”

“Your blush sings a different tune,” Lust said. “If you’re wondering, yes, it would feel twice as good as you imagine. Though I suspect my brother would have my balls for trying. Remind me to send you a gift later from House Lust.”

The prince of pleasure stuck his hands into his pockets and turned, walking down the corridor as if he were out for an evening stroll.

“Hurry along,” he called over his shoulder. “Some of us have yet to indulge in our baser desires. Murder, unfortunately, seems to be an aphrodisiac only for House Wrath. Surprising to none, actually.”





FOUR


The Prince of Greed scowled from behind his gilded desk. “You’re late.”

We paused just inside the threshold of his private chamber, surveying the occupants. Greed, Lust, and two demon guards. Wrath brushed his knuckles against the back of my hand, then strode into what appeared to be Greed’s study, promptly commandeering one of the velvet wingback chairs without uttering a single word. His expression didn’t shift, but I felt the iciness in it. The cold, imperious royal had replaced the warm lover from a few minutes before.

Wrath looked every inch the king he was, claiming his throne. Power emanated from him that wasn’t purely magical in nature—it was his confidence, his knowledge that he owned every space he walked into, even in a House of Sin that wasn’t his. Wrath’s words from a card game we once played came back to me suddenly. “I believe I’m powerful, therefore I am.”

Others believed it, too. Greed watched him, eyes narrowed, but didn’t strike out.