Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked #1)(84)

I glanced at my mother and father again. They hadn’t moved from where the horned-demon unceremoniously dumped them, and stared blankly at nothing. In a way, it was a blessing from the goddess of mercy that they weren’t entirely conscious for this.

My eyes burned with unshed tears. “What did you do to them?”

“You ought to be concerned with what will become of them yet if you don’t give me what I’m asking for.”

“I don’t have the other amulet.” I kept my focus on my parents, trying to think of a way out of this. “My half was stolen the night my grandmother was attacked.”

“Then I suggest you start looking for it. One half won’t do.”

“If you attacked my grandmother, don’t you already have my amulet?”

“Let me provide a bit of advice: accusations without evidence are worthless.” Envy poured another glass of wine. “By this time tomorrow, I expect to be in possession of both amulets. I will move your family and friends to your home tonight. Meet me there once you have the other amulet and we will trade. Your family and friends for the Horn of Hades.”

I went to remove my sister’s cornicello from my neck, but he held up a hand to stall me. “Why not take this half tonight?”

“If I touch it now, it will . . . alert those I wish to keep in the dark. I don’t want to draw any attention until I possess the entire Horn of Hades.”

“Wrath didn’t care about the Horn before. Why can’t I ask for his help?”

Envy gave me an odd look. “Wrath will never be the hero in your story. He’s carved from something other. In fact, he might be the biggest liar of us all.” I scoffed, which only seemed to delight him. “If you don’t believe me, then ask Wrath about the final soul he has to collect. The one that will grant him freedom from the underworld, regardless of the curse.”

I stared at the smug demon prince. I’d say it was a lie, but deep down I suspected it wasn’t. I knew Wrath had his own agenda, and this felt like the final piece I’d been missing. But a soul? I shook my head. He’d saved me when I’d been attacked by the Viperidae. If this was true, he could have bargained with me then. Or maybe . . . maybe he hadn’t told me because he’d wanted to use it to his advantage when the time was right. I exhaled. I was getting paranoid.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? I thought you knew better. Why do you think he, the mighty demon of war, cares about safely escorting a witch to the underworld?”

“Because he wants to break the devil’s curse.” As I said it, I heard the doubt creeping in.

“I have a secret, pet.” Envy leaned across the table, his poisonous gaze alight with triumph. “Once he has collected his final soul, the curse won’t matter to him. He will have full power, and the ability to walk this realm freely without an anchor. He can either choose to stay in the Seven Circles and rule his royal House, or he can roam the earth until the end of days. Choice is powerful. And we princes do love our power.” He offered me a slow, vicious grin. “You didn’t think that deep down he could be redeemed, did you?”





Forty

A prince of Hell’s greatest pleasure is causing discord. Before an attack, his irises turn darker than a starless night with flecks of red, a sign of his wicked bloodlust. Do not engage them in battle; you will never win.

—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire

The tall, arched door clicked shut behind me. It hardly made a sound, but Wrath emerged from the darkness of the abandoned palace, his face half-hidden in shadow. He’d discarded the serpent jacket, and his dark shirt was unbuttoned and rumpled. Much like his hair.

I thought about running my fingers through it, and my heartbeat quickened. I didn’t want to believe Envy. Wrath had been there for me, even when he said he wouldn’t be. And yet . . .

“Are you hurt? You look . . .” his voice trailed off as I slowly walked over to where he stood. He didn’t move, hardly seemed to breathe as I backed him up against the wall, his shirt bunched in my grasp. His golden eyes latched on to mine, burning. I wondered if he sensed my emotions. If they somehow affected his, too. I held him captive there, caging his body with my own.

He could break from my grasp at any moment. But he didn’t.

I eased my grip from his shirt, and slowly splayed my hands over his chest instead. He looked down into my face, his expression wary but intense. Having all of his attention directed at me was intoxicating.

“I want to trust you,” I said quietly, holding his stare. His heart thudded solidly beneath my touch. “Why don’t you tell me what you really want? Let me in.”

His gaze fell to my mouth before he tore it away a breath later. I didn’t think the flash of desire I saw was fake. I knew the emotion it stirred within me wasn’t, either.

I’d always imagined he’d dutifully take an enemy to bed if it meant he’d gain something from it. Now I wasn’t sure that’s how he felt at all. There was a charge steadily building between us. And Wrath seemed poised to let it detonate. Because he wanted to. Maybe I did, too.

I moved a hand inside his shirt, keeping close contact with his skin. His pounding heart betrayed the response he was desperately trying to hide. My hand inched lower. The heat of him, the solidness . . . suddenly, I wanted this to be real.