Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(90)

Having him love me in half measures was a miserable fate for both of us.

I stood and crawled onto his lap, resting my head against his heart. “In the Well of Memory… I found a way to break the curse.” Wrath stiffened beneath me. “I need to leave to accomplish it, and I need you to remain here.”

He rubbed a hand up and down my spine. “You don’t sound happy.”

I sensed he wanted to ask more, but he’d already figured out I’d shared all I could. I nestled against him, taking the comfort he was offering and wrapping it around me like the sweetest sort of embrace. “I might have to hurt someone I care about. Someone that doesn’t deserve an ounce of pain.”

Wrath kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t tell me to find another way, because there wasn’t one. He didn’t offer to stand in my place, because he knew I needed to be the one to do it. There were no words of comfort, because I had to do something I hated to free us.

Wrath carefully tilted my face up to his, his gaze penetrating enough to stare into my soul if I allowed him to. When he brought his lips to mine, he unleashed all the things that were pointless to say and communicated all our hopes and sorrow without words.

Before I knew what was happening, Wrath used his supernatural strength and speed to maneuver us onto the plush carpet. He lay beneath me, holding me above his face, and flashed a devilish grin that had my toes curling from its sinful intent. I might have been the one on top, gazing down into his seductive eyes, but he was in control now.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “We don’t have time…”

“The world could end before we know it. And I have my own fantasies to live out, my lady. If you’re willing to indulge?”

I understood his need for a connection. To feel something other than fear or our sins as we raced to a finish line we weren’t sure was close by. I needed him, too. He might not be able to tell me he loved me, but he could certainly show me. I nodded. “I’m happy to oblige.”

“Thank fuck.” He lowered me so that my knees were on either side of his head, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles on my hips. Wrath lifted my skirts and parted my lacy undergarments, slowly dragging a finger over the slickness waiting for him.

“Is this a new lesson in conquering or surrender?” I managed to ask as his finger dipped inside, then curled ever so gently. I swore as he repeated the motion with a second finger, stretching me. He withdrew his fingers, then pushed them back in, pumping slowly.

“You tell me, my lady.”

“I—goddess curse me.”

Wrath ripped my undergarments off, then brought his mouth to my body, licking hard and deep. I jerked forward, gripping the chair as each flick of his tongue threatened to topple me over. He pulled my hips forward, then pushed back, never once removing his mouth from me.

Holding my gaze, he repeated the action, and I knew what he was requesting without words. And who was I to deny him or myself the pleasure?

I rocked forward, and the demon rewarded me with a satisfied growl that vibrated over my most sensitive area. My cursed skirts fell over him, hiding him from view.

I slowly released the chair and ripped off the lower portion of the gown, earning an amused look from my husband. I braced one hand behind me on his thigh, and the other I tangled into his hair, pulling it until he was angled just right. With my gown out of the way, I could see him and his wicked gaze much better.

Unadulterated hunger crossed his features. “Tug it harder, my lady.”

“Heathen.”

“My dark angel.” Wrath wrapped his arms around me and feasted as I set the pace. His tongue plundered, making my body clench around it until I thought I’d go mad from the feeling. I yanked his hair even harder and rocked against him, my head thrown back. Wrath plunged a finger in with his clever tongue and set a rhythm that had me seeing stars. I came with reckless abandon, moaning his true name as a shock of pleasure bolted through me. Before I’d fully come down, I broke apart again, calling his name like a plea or a curse. Only when my legs started trembling from the aftershocks did the demon press a chaste kiss to my inner thigh. The light caress set my blood on fire again.

What we shared wasn’t nearly enough. But time was our enemy at the moment, and I’d already lost too much. My husband saw the indecision in my face, and I saw the yearning in his. We needed this. Even if it meant I had less time to get the blade, I’d make it work. I moved down his body and guided his thick length into me.

Wrath laced his hands with mine, and together we soon fell over that glorious edge, reminding ourselves what we were fighting so hard for. Love.





TWENTY-FOUR


Domenico snarled when I summoned him. “Do I look like your personal carriage?”

“No. But you will look like a new fur rug if you don’t stop complaining,” I said sweetly.

“You’re not as fun as your sister.”

“Perhaps not to you. But I am as deadly, and unlike Vittoria, if I kill you, you won’t come back. I can’t do that demonic hand trick.” I wriggled my fingers at him. “Let’s move.”

The werewolf made a disgusted noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter, then he sank his claws into my arms and stepped into the glittering portal. The gates were still locked from the outside, but traveling by shifter was actually best. Wrath couldn’t transvenio, and even if he could, I didn’t want him to know where I was going. He might suspect I was heading to my version of the Shifting Isles now, but I didn’t want to confirm anything.