Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (108)

“I refuse to be the only one completely nude.”

“If I remove my trousers, I cannot guarantee there will be much sleeping.”

I mimicked his arched brow and waited. I’d never said anything about sleeping. Bold of him to assume he’d figured out my plans. With a sigh, his pants vanished. He tucked me against him and I grinned as I shimmied closer and heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Emilia.”

“Yes?” My tone was innocence sprinkled with sugar. “Is there a problem?”

I should have known better than to taunt the general of war. Wrath did not play fairly; he played to win. From behind, he situated himself right at the entrance of my body, causing my breath to hitch. I went tight and loose at once, ready for him to press himself deeper.

“Tell me, fiancée. Are you certain you want me as your husband?” He gripped my hip in one hand and slid the other under me, pulling me closer. The tenuous hold on my self-control was slipping. I arched into him. “You’re ready and willing to spend eternity here, with me?”

My mind was still deciding but my body was slick and willing. This time when he rocked his hips, his strokes were deliberately slow, tantalizing. Without his trousers on, his velvet skin slid over mine, the sensation pure bliss. I would give up almost anything to experience all of him right now. Except my mission.

With great effort I slipped out from beneath his arms and stood. He put up no resistance or fight. To soften the blow of my rejection, I leaned over the bed and gave him a chaste kiss.

“How about a drink before bed?”

Wrath watched me carefully, but there was no disappointment or hurt in his expression. Only victory. He knew I would not go through with bedding him. “Would you like me to get it?”

“I’m already up. You stay there.” He rolled up onto an elbow and gave me a bemused look as I pointed at him. “No moving. No bowing. You promised.”

“I am a demon bound by my word.”

“Good.”

I picked up my gown and strode over to the sitting room where the chilled champagne waited. Heart thumping wildly, I glanced over my shoulder, ensuring he’d remained in bed, then said a quick prayer to the goddess of lies and deception to guide my hand.

I’d made a vow to someone I loved well before I knew Wrath. And this opportunity was too good to pass on. No matter how much my heart roared in pain, anticipating the break.

I grabbed the item I’d sewn into my skirts, my movements sure and quick. Before I talked myself out of it, I sprinkled a pinch of the mixture into Wrath’s glass, then poured the champagne over it. I dropped a piece of chocolate-covered fruit into each glass. Bubbles fizzed around the unwelcome intrusion, doing a fine job of covering my treachery.

I sauntered back into the bedroom, pleased to see Wrath—as respectful as he was—distracted by the sway of my hips. I hadn’t bothered to put on my night clothing yet. Not that he had, either. His muscled upper body was bare, though he’d pulled the sheets up around his waist. He patted the spot next to him, a lazy grin curving those wicked lips.

In a different life, I could happily kiss him for eternity.

“To new beginnings.” I offered the prince his drink then raised my own glass. “Iucundissima somnia.”

Wrath’s brow crinkled at the last part of the toast. If he recalled he’d once said it to me, he didn’t comment. He clinked his glass against mine, then downed the champagne in one go.

I sipped mine and silently counted. His glass hit the floor before I finished my first sip.

“Emilia.” He turned a sluggish gaze on me, eyes flashing with fury. And betrayal. The temperature plummeted around us, then returned to normal as he battled an invisible foe fiercely before slowly slumping back.

The mighty demon of war was no longer a threat.

I set my glass on the bedside table, then reached over to brush the hair from his forehead. Whatever peace we’d made would be gone when he awoke. It was a sacrifice I’d been willing to make, but it didn’t make it easy. I kissed his brow, savoring the moment before I straightened.

“Sweetest dreams, your highness.”





Tonight I was a thief of a different sort as I stole through the corridor between Wrath’s suite and mine, slipping in and out of shadows like a pickpocket swiping purses. I crept into my room and raced to the trunk. I yanked out the fur-lined leather pants, thick sweater, and socks I’d brought, tugged on boots, and swung my ebony cloak around my shoulders in record time. I fastened my dagger in my thigh holster and tugged it to make sure it was secure.

In moments I was back in the hallway, rushing down the servants’ stairs. With the party still underway, no one was near this end of the castle. I hoped.

Heart thundering in warning, I peered around the corner. A door was propped open in the back of the kitchen—just as I’d suspected—to let out the heat created by oven fires.

With a quick prayer to the goddess of lies and deception, I darted across the corridor, then slowed once I entered the kitchen. I had no idea how long the slumber root would keep Wrath unconscious; given his immense power, I didn’t think I had long. I needed to be far enough away that he couldn’t catch me before I crossed into Pride’s territory. I rushed across the wide expanse connecting the back of the castle to the stables, not halting until I reached the entrance.