Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (19)

Perhaps his troublesome mouth would taunt and tease while he strategized ways to wring pleasure from me. He’d whisper all sorts of filthy promises, heating me to my core instead of shocking me. I’d lean in and nip at his lower lip, a warning and a plea.

I would happily inform him that I was no longer fearful of my passions or willing to deny myself. That shame was the last thing I felt when he was in my arms.

He’d kiss me then, slow and deep. A commanding exploration of my mouth, my body. Proof of making good on his wicked promises. I’d feel his desire pushing against me, hard and warm and thrilling. My satisfaction over affecting him as much would slide into need faster than I could draw my next breath. I’d press against him, wanting to feel more.

It wouldn’t take much for him to wrench the dress up over my hips, drop to his knees, and kiss his way up—

“Blood and bones.”

I shook myself from the magically induced illusion. This realm and its nudges would take a lot of getting used to. It wasn’t as strong as it was in the Sin Corridor, but that same darkly seductive magic was there, lingering, testing, teasing.

Another unfortunate complication. I’d have to carefully mind each of my thoughts and feelings. I quickly put the dress back and snatched a dressing robe, banishing thoughts of Wrath.

Thinking about the prince of this House of Sin while standing near my bed without a stitch of clothing was a courtship with trouble. After I slipped the robe on, I tied the silk belt around my waist and thumbed through the clothing once more.

I held up another gown that was slightly closer in style to clothing from home. Well, dresses a princess or noblewoman might own. This one had a strapless corsetlike top in an endless matte black. A sleek skirt that would hug my hips and fan out mid-thigh before dramatically cascading to the floor. Satiny black piping edged each line of the top and circled the waist. It was a far cry from the simple blouses and skirts I was used to wearing to work.

Pangs of homesickness hit me. All the finery in the world couldn’t replace the comfort I felt with my family. I wanted to be standing in the kitchen of Sea & Vine, listening to the symphony of sounds my mother, Nonna, and sister made as we worked on our dishes. Knives chopping, pans sizzling, spoons clattering, and all of us happily humming while we shared gossip from the marketplace. My father and uncle Nino chatting merrily with diners.

The scent of savory food wafting around… That simple, happy life was over.

Ready or not, I needed to step into this new role and own it. So I would. Both literally and figuratively. Starting at once.

I gathered up the gown and strode into the room the prince had washed up in, then halted.

“Divine goddesses above.”

Every surface reflected my shocked expression back at me. Floors, ceiling, sunken tub, vanity—everything was made of either solid crystal, frosted glass, or white gold. Candles flickered from a circular chandelier. The chamber gleamed softly like I’d crossed from the underworld and stepped directly onto the surface of the moon.

The only bits of color came from an assortment of makeup in tidy piles on the vanity. Brushes for eyes and face and hair. Jeweled clips and tiaras and pins. Flower buds for my locks. Pots of multicolored inks for my lips. Crushed gold that could be dusted across my face or body, delicate perfume bottles with pale pinks and purples and hues I had no exact name for.

I set aside the gown and picked up one perfume and inhaled. Lilac and maybe almond with a hint of bergamot. Vittoria would have adored the assortment of scented riches. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and grabbed the lilac perfume. I dabbed a bit on each wrist and rubbed them together. It was heavenly. I smelled another that reminded me of honeysuckle and birchwood and heavy whipping cream. Perhaps a tiny hint of gardenia, too. Another smelled almost exactly like hyacinth, reminding me of lush spring mornings.

I smiled a little to myself; Vittoria’s passion for creating perfume aided me with singling out different notes. For a minute, I could almost close my eyes and pretend she was here now. The moment passed, a temporary shadow cast from a cloud racing past the sun.

I inspected each bottle and all of the items Wrath had supplied. Nothing surprised me as much as the fresh flowers. A crystal vase sat on the vanity beside the makeup.

Fragrant blossoms in whites and pale blues and rose-gold pinks cascaded around a smattering of ferns and eucalyptus stuck throughout the arrangement. The flowers were all lovely, almost exactly what was found in the human world, except they were coated in ice.

I breathed them in, surprised their scent penetrated the frost. My fingers trailed over the icy petals. I wondered if the flowers were Wrath’s idea or if someone else had sent them.

Someone like my soon-to-be husband. I stopped wondering. It didn’t matter.

My attention swept across the sunken glass tub; it took up almost the entire center of the room. I could swim from side to side and do laps in it. It was one of the grandest things I’d ever seen. Before bed I’d definitely take a swim. Now I had things to do, secrets to uncover. And seven demon courts to slowly infiltrate, starting with House Wrath.

Thus far the underworld was wildly different from what I’d heard about it from mortal religion. I had much to learn if I had hopes of sorting truth from fiction while here.

A quick bath was all I could spare time for. I removed my robe and waded in, quickly scrubbing my skin and hair with a bar of soap laid atop folded linen. The water was a perfect temperature. Not too hot or cold, but delightfully warm. Part of me reconsidered my plan to quickly bathe and instead spend the rest of the evening floating in heaven.