Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(30)

His gaze darkened. “Bloodshed turns me on almost as much as your little performance did. I’m going to take you directly to bed after the fight.” Wrath flashed a devastating grin. “And we’re not going to reemerge for a long, long time. I hope you packed the pearl skirt.”

Any nervousness or trepidation I was feeling vanished. I suspected Wrath’s speech was meant to get my mind on what would happen after the battle, to give me something to focus on. He was a good general; I’d tear through a thousand wolves just to get him back into bed.

His smile was filled with male arrogance. Deservedly so after our earth-shattering lovemaking, so I couldn’t fault him there. Sensing I was ready, Wrath palmed his dagger and shoved the door open. He burst through it in a flash of violent movement. I jumped out directly after him, my blade ready.

The elation I’d just felt disappeared as I took in the sight before us.

Wolves, nearly a hundred of them, oversized and monstrous, stood on the bridge, shoulder to shoulder, blocking our path to House Wrath. But that wasn’t what had my heart thudding in my chest. It was the dozens of wolves that floated in a semicircle around us, their paws ten feet above ground. They were spirit walkers. And they were waiting in the wings to pounce if any of their brethren went down.

Blood and bones. I had little doubt Wrath would take a huge portion of them down alone, but there were so many. Too many. My sister had amassed an army. As if my thoughts summoned her, Vittoria appeared behind a row of particularly vicious werewolves. Gone was her signature smirk, the mischievous light dancing in her eyes. The being that stared at us was cold, devoid of humanity. Immortal. She was what I truly was, and it chilled me to the core.

“We had an appointment to speak today, sister. I got tired of waiting, so I brought some friends to escort you to the Shifting Isles.” Vittoria’s focus moved to Wrath. “I suggest you let her go quietly.”

The ground rumbled, as if Wrath’s fury had shaken the very core of the realm. “Surrender yourself to House Wrath, willingly and peacefully, and I’ll allow your puppies to live.”

“How very magnanimous of you.” Vittoria’s mouth curved into a slow, vicious smile. “And foolish. It seems you’ve not heard what I can do. Allow me to demonstrate.”

“Vittoria,” I said, forcing calmness into my voice. “Come with us.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you’re suspected of murder, and there’s a price on your head.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” I held her amused stare. “And I believe there’s much more to the story. Please. Stand down and come talk to me. I want to hear your side of things. Let me help clear your name of any wrongdoing.”

“Why should I care if a prince of Hell thinks I’m a murderer? None of them can be trusted. They trick and manipulate and pride themselves on it. And I’ve tolerated playing by their rules long enough.”

My sister held her right arm up and bent her elbow as if she were holding a ball. She was too far away for me to make out the words she was whispering, but I watched in growing fear as she softly chanted. Glittering lavender light swirled around her bent elbow, slowly circling her forearm and wrist, before settling around her hand.

Wrath cursed and stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. I peered around him, horrified as my sister’s fingers lengthened. Claws emerged from her too-long fingers, ebony as the night and sharper than daggers. Her arm looked charred, as if she’d stuck it into some hellfire and yanked out magic that wished to be left alone. Dark veins crept past her elbow, seeming to mix with her blood. The swirling lavender light winked out.

She held up her clawed hand, proudly showing off the demonic-looking appendage. I could do nothing but stare as she turned to a shifter. “Domenico, my love. Come.”

The grayish-blue wolf to her right—the size of a bear with glowing pale purple eyes—padded toward my twin, whining softly as it crouched before her.

Without warning, Vittoria’s magically altered hand punched through the wolf’s chest, the sound of bone crunching and muscle tearing sickening in the eerie silence. I could hardly believe what had happened. Vittoria ripped her arm back, clutching a still-beating heart and pivoted, holding it up for all to see. Domenico collapsed in an unmoving heap of bloody fur, dead.

“What have you done?” I whispered. My stomach lurched at the brutality. The gore. I’d seen wounds like that before. On witches. Wrath and I hadn’t quite known what had removed their hearts. He’d guessed animal, unable to identify any trace of a demon. I’d been convinced it was a prince of Hell. I slowly shook my head, unable to process that my twin was capable of an act so violent, so merciless. She’d murdered her own lover. She’d murdered the witches on our island. The why was still a mystery, but I now knew who. And it sickened me. “You killed those girls.”

Not Antonio, or an angel of death. My sister. My blood.

And at this moment, it was hard to believe she hadn’t also killed Vesta.

Vittoria looked me over, her gaze calculating. “Anyone can kill, dear sister. Would you like to see the true reason they fear me? Why they wish to see me caged?”

“Please.” My voice came out pleading, but I didn’t care. “Please. Don’t. Just come with us.”

“Begging is for mortals.”