Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked #1)(46)

He arched a brow. “Do you have any more demands, your highness? Or may I go?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Did you use a rebirth spell on me?” He shook his head. “Then why weren’t we wearing clothes?”

A smile slowly tugged at the corners of his mouth. His expression resembled that of an immensely pleased yet smug male. “Because you ripped mine off like a hell beast in heat.” I shot him a dirty look. He blew out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Since he couldn’t lie to me, it had to be true enough for him to say it. I rolled my eyes. I’d been clearly out of my mind, and I told him as much. “Also, because the Viperidae inject venom that acts like ice, we needed to reverse the effects quickly. Body heat and hot water were the most efficient and quick ways to prevent hypothermia from killing you.”

It was true. But I also heard him whispering in that strange language. Wrath wasn’t lying, but he was keeping secrets. “You kissed me.”

He abruptly looked away. “Fever dreams have peculiar side effects.”

I grinned. I might not know the full spell, but I knew the chaste kiss was part of whatever magic he’d summoned. He probably neither wanted to, nor had much of a choice in the matter.

But I’m glad he suffered through it, or else I’d be dead.

When I’d found myself inside his head last night, his expression wasn’t one of love, but fear. That, despite his best efforts, I was a splinter slowly burrowing under his immortal skin, and one day I might travel deeply enough to pierce his stone heart. He wouldn’t be wrong.

No matter if he sacrificed some small portion of his power to save me, I’d never forget who he really was. He was a self-centered demon with a mission to protect his own world using any means necessary. He didn’t really care about this realm, or the witches who’d been murdered. His focus was on what it all meant for him. The fear I saw in his heart had nothing to do with me, personally, but what emotional entanglements represented in general. Death.

As in death of all he was and chose to be.

Princes of Hell were loyal to none but themselves. Wrath would take an enemy to his bed in an instant if it meant garnering information or power. And I doubted he’d loathe it.

I moved until we were nearly touching. He didn’t back away, but he didn’t reach for me, either. His behavior had nothing to do with goodness, or blossoming friendship, or even lust, and everything to do with gain. I just didn’t yet understand how or why he needed me alive.

But I would do everything I could to find out what his true goals were.

His attention slipped to my mouth. There wasn’t anything kind or sweet in his gaze. In fact, there was hardly anything soft in it at all. Sometimes when he looked at me, I swore I sensed a beast hiding beneath the mask of skin he wore. It was restless, feral. I had a feeling he kept the monster locked away, but it was never far. I fought a shudder. I didn’t ever want to be around when he decided to let his inner animal out of its cage.

A taunting smile curved his lips. “Is this the part where you thank me with a kiss?”

“Hardly. I’m not like you, demon. I don’t kiss people I hate. And I never will.”

“Never? Are you certain you’d like to make such a declaration?”

I wasn’t certain of anything at the moment. I was confused and buzzing with magic that wasn’t entirely my own. I’d lived through twenty-four hours from hell—with Nonna’s attack, my own brush with death, and being saved by my enemy. His power thrummed through me, filled me. For a second, I wanted him to reach over and drag his hands down my body. Which made no sense.

I couldn’t think with him standing so near. I desperately needed a moment to myself. To collect my thoughts and decide how to proceed. And I couldn’t accomplish any of those things with the half-naked demon crowding my space. Power surged through my veins.

Before Wrath dazzled me with more charm, I whispered a containment spell that must have been fueled with his demon magic because it did not go as planned. One second he was standing there, and the next he was gone. Winked out of existence. It happened so quickly, but I’d managed to catch a glimpse of his face before he’d disappeared. He’d looked so . . . betrayed.

A mix of emotion haunted me for several minutes. He was my enemy. Even if he’d saved me. That one act of goodness didn’t erase that fact. And yet I wasn’t sure if I hoped I’d sent him back to the underworld, or if I hoped he was imprisoned in the cave again. It shouldn’t matter where he was.

Even if I felt slightly guilty for using his own magic against him, I refused to let it color my judgment. He had his mission and I had mine. That was it. I rummaged around on the floor, but couldn’t find my clothes. Damned demon. Of all the ways he could take his vengeance, I didn’t predict walking through city streets naked to be one of them.

I glanced up, ready to curse Wrath to Hell again, and noticed a new dress folded in a neat pile in the corner where he’d been standing. I lifted it up, surprised by its beauty. Dark skirts had tastefully placed gold glitter sprinkled across them—not unlike his shimmering luccicare. Black sheer sleeves fell gracefully from an off-the-shoulder top. And a gold corset with thorns and wings stiched across the back finished it off. I forgot my clothing had been torn during the Viperidae attack. Some feeling I’d rather not dwell on took shape as I held the gown. I shoved it away.