Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(23)

I pushed myself up from the duke’s lap and perched against the gaming table, my back to Wrath as I slowly kicked one leg up and over to the other, crossing my legs primly and effectively drawing Devon’s hungry stare. My wineglass rattled then cracked, spilling wine over the table.

The Duke of Devon didn’t notice. His greedy attention had finally been captured in its entirety. He undid the stays on his trousers and yanked himself free, then stroked his length as the remaining players at our table turned to him, indulging in his sin. My attention remained fixed on his, though I was truly focused on the massive presence behind us.

A low rumble rolled through the gaming hall, not disturbing enough to stop the gambling or the greed-fueled tableaus, but enough to have drinks splashing onto the card tables. I sent a silent prayer to the goddess, hoping Wrath would act soon. I’d already heard more than enough from Devon. The duke stood and stroked himself harder, groaning as if he was getting close to his release. Lords and ladies at our table hungrily leaned in, feeding into his desire to be watched.

“Lady Emilia,” Devon groaned. “Touch your—”

“Enough.”

Wrath’s voice was barely more than a whisper, yet the hair along my arms stood on end. Power pulsed in the air around us like a storm was about to hit. That was the only warning anyone received. And then it happened; a thunderous crack rent the air, silencing the drumbeats. The duke standing before me froze, a look of confusion quickly turning to fear as he dropped his cock and jumped back, narrowly missing a chunk of ceiling that crashed before him. Bits of plaster rained down, falling in a circle around me, protecting me from the impending chaos.

I drew my attention up—lines spiderwebbed across the ceiling, the cracks growing until it crumbled. Wood splintered, crystal chandeliers rattled, the stage started caving in on itself as if the ground was swallowing it whole. Demons shouted and abandoned their sex shows as they rushed for safety. I sat in the center of my impenetrable ring, watching as gaming table after gaming table was suddenly coated in ice, heavy and thick enough to break and shatter the ornate wood.

“Blood and bones.” Our game had worked. Maybe too well.

A table nearby disintegrated. Another quickly following. All around the gaming hall, furniture exploded into dust or was coated in ice that was so heavy it broke all it touched into shards. My table remained undamaged, the one speck of calm in the storm of wrath.

Wrath’s fury was demolishing the entire room, piece by piece. My breath came out in white clouds, the temperature now dangerously below freezing. It was as if we’d crossed into a world made entirely of ice; it was cruel and harsh and lethal. Just like the look on my prince’s face when he turned that wrathful gaze on the duke. I shuddered. And Devon promptly pissed himself.

Then Wrath was truly there, tossing me over his shoulder like a barbarian, his large hand covering my backside as he carried me from the destroyed chamber.

He was practically vibrating from the pressure of holding back his power. I couldn’t imagine what else he could do, what else he could destroy, if this was only a taste of his magic.

My attention landed on Lust, who was chuckling in the chaos. Recalling our game, I began pounding on Wrath’s back. “Put me down!”

The demon prince didn’t respond, not that I expected him to. Wrath was focused only on his sin as he swiftly removed us from the gaming hall, where shouts were still ringing out and the violent, unnatural blizzard swirled within that chamber. Snowflakes kissed my bare skin, so cold they felt like little nips. Wrath truly was a force of nature.

Using supernatural speed, he had us back in our room before I knew it.

He gently set me on my feet and paced away, his fury lashing out. I hid my grin. Our plan worked beautifully. Wrath’s sin had ruined one of Greed’s gaming rooms, and we got information on Vesta. Overall, it was a wild success. Though the poor duke would claim otherwise.

“Well?” I asked. “Do you think it was a believable scene?”

It had to be—Vittoria’s life depended on it.

Wrath slowly turned from where he’d magicked the room to conceal our voices, his attention raking over me. He did, indeed, look like a feral animal whose leash just snapped and was testing for any new cage. My heartbeat quickened, and not in fear. I’d wished to provoke him into action. And he certainly looked primed and ready to act. His arousal strained against his trousers, and the way he was staring at me, like he’d devote himself to wringing pleasure from my body for hours on end, made me ache for him all over again.

“Did you enjoy the show, your majesty?” Holding his gaze, I pivoted in place, making sure the pearl tassels swished against my backside. “You could have at least allowed the poor duke to finish. The nobility at the table was enjoying his performance.”

“Emilia.” It didn’t sound like a warning as much as a plea. One more step, and he’d be as gone as I was.

“Was I wicked enough to fool a prince of Hell?” I ran my hands over my barely there top, allowing one strap to fall down. “Better yet… was I wicked enough to entice the devil?”

Wrath cursed gods I’d never heard of as I sauntered closer. He looked like he was a breath away from pouncing. I practically felt the tension snapping between us, and I leaned into it.

Wrath took a small step toward me, his gaze locked onto mine. The hunter had come out to play. “Tell me you want this.”