Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked #1)(59)

A bemused smile touched his lips. “It’s nice to know you find me so attractive, but I’m not one of those demons. My eyes aren’t red. And if you’d like to find out if my skin is warmer than ice, that can easily be arranged.”

To further his point, he undid a few buttons on his shirt, exposing a patch of bronzed skin. A light sheen of sweat glistened, as if beckoning. My face heated, having nothing to do with the sun. “I work in a kitchen and can break down a chicken carcass in under three minutes, I imagine doing the same to you wouldn’t be that different.”

“I assure you, there’s no truth to these stories.” His eyes sparked with mischief. “Though I can’t promise my kisses wouldn’t be sinfully good.”

“I thought we were supposed to meet later tonight. Did something happen to change that?”

Wrath stared at me a moment longer and for some reason, I held my breath. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but an inner battle was being waged. Finally, he laid back down, face tipped up at the sun, and closed his eyes. I exhaled.

“No. Nothing of note.”

“Do you know who the next witch is?”

“Not yet.”

I stood there, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t bother, I walked over and glared at him until he looked up grudgingly, shielding his face with a strong hand. “If you don’t have information on the next witch, why did you ask me to come here?”

“I . . .” He squinted at me. “I’ve secured the building with my magic so, unless you invite something in, it’ll be safe from humans, my brothers, and most supernatural creatures. I wasn’t sure what you’d had planned for the evening, and thought you might like to see where we’d be staying. I’ll be out for a little while, so please look around, make yourself comfortable, and grab your things.”

I stared at him, ignoring the whole “moving in together” scenario. “Where are you going?”

“To meet one of Pride’s messengers.”

“Is he the one who gave you Giulia’s name?”

Wrath nodded. “My associate has been watching him since late last night, and witnessed him passing information this morning to someone wearing a hood. I believe whoever he spoke to is our murderer.”

“Why didn’t your associate follow the hooded figure?”

“He tried. When he closed in, the person crossed into a crowd and disappeared.”

I blew out a breath. Of course. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m supposed to meet Pride’s messenger to retrieve the next name soon. Instead, I’ll interrogate him, and will hopefully discover the identity of the robed figure that way.”

“Or I could just use a truth spell.”

“Too dangerous. Plus, you’ll be grabbing your things. I won’t be gone for long.”

“I see.” Something in my tone made him sit up again, a wary expression on his face. So, he could be a smart demon. “You know I won’t stay when there’s a chance we can find out who killed my sister,” I said. “Either take me with you, or I’ll follow you.”

He studied me for a long minute then sighed. “I will not be pleasant. I can have the meeting, and tell you about it. I promise to not hunt down the murderer without you.”

“Wait . . . are you suggesting you’ve been pleasant?” I snorted. “I pity your enemies.”

His grin was anything but friendly when he said, “That might be the wisest observation you’ve made yet, witch.”

A clock in the city square chimed the hour. He stood, then ran his golden gaze over my clothes, appraising. “We leave in forty minutes. Try to wear something less . . . pedestrian. Better yet, I’ll have something more appropriate sent to your home.”

I glanced at my dress, frowning. It was a modest cotton gown I’d dyed a deep lavender last summer. It didn’t have a corset, which I was very pleased with, but it still had a pretty shape. I liked how it was fitted through the bust and waist and then dreamily flowed down to my ankles. It was hardly pedestrian, and yet . . . “What if I don’t want to wear your fancy clothing again?”

He didn’t bother responding.

I looked up, ready to snap about his rudeness, but he was gone. I cursed him the entire way home, wondering why I’d gotten stuck with such a clothes-obsessed snob of a demon.

Perhaps Nonna was right about the cost of le arti oscure; being subjected to Wrath certainly felt like a punishment for using the dark arts.

I was so annoyed, it took far too long for me to focus on the most important detail of all that he’d let slip—Wrath knew where I lived.





Twenty-Eight

I looked down at my new, finely made dress and frowned at the dark layers. “Why do villains always wear black?”

“Better to hide the blood with, witch.”

I eyed the demon standing in the alley next to me, thinking his response explained a lot about his personal style. Then I wondered how much blood he planned to spill tonight if he’d dressed us both like living, breathing shadows.

I was almost disturbed the thought didn’t terrify me more.

“Who are we meeting? Human? Demon? Werewolf?”

“Werewolves are like puppies. It’s hellhounds you need to watch out for.” Wrath chuckled at my look of horror. “We’re meeting a mortal who sold his soul. Speaking of, I need my House dagger back before he arrives.”