Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (34)

“Consider this my final warning.”

Wrath shifted to me then, holding out his arm. I placed my hand in the crook of his arm and lifted my chin. We walked side by side to a large table set at the back of the room, and I subtly let my gaze travel across the chamber, drinking in our surroundings. A tapestry hung against the far wall, depicting a warrior angel locked in battle with demons. Severed heads rolled at his feet. Blood-splattered and milky-eyed. An interesting choice for a dining room.

I brought my attention back down from that ray of sunshine. The table we were headed to was made from a solid piece of gorgeous old wood. A garland composed of various evergreens ran down the center of its length, along with an iron candelabra with spindly arms that sat just above the greenery. Cream and gold candle tapers decorated it from end to end, giving off a comfortable flickering glow. Black earthenware plates were set before gilded chairs. And the eating utensils were also made of the same deep gold. It was pure rustic elegance. Masculine edges with unexpected bits of warmth. Perfect for a warrior prince. I liked it very much.

Wrath angled us toward the center of the table where two larger, more ornate seats were located. Not quite thrones, but close. Unlike what I’d been told of human royal courts, we would not be sitting at opposite ends of the table. We were at its center and everyone else would be fanned out around us. There were two aisles of similar yet smaller wooden tables on either side of the room, creating a path for us to walk down.

These tables didn’t have gold seats; they had matching wooden benches. All of them had an abundance of candles running their length, a fiery centerpiece for the coldest circle of Hell.

Servants I hadn’t noticed lingering near the wall stepped forward, gracefully pulling out our chairs as we made our way around the table. Wrath waited until I sat down before taking his seat. Glasses of dark wine were quickly poured and set before us.

Frozen berries bobbed to the surface, enchanting and tempting. My gaze turned to the prince. I was about to ask why no one else had moved to take their seats, but shut my mouth.

Wrath’s attention was already fixed on me, his eyes nearly glowing in the candlelight.

Everything faded into shadows. It was as if he and I were the only two in the room, the whole realm, and I couldn’t stop my thoughts from returning to their earlier, scandalous vision of him making love to me until I saw stars. Just as the rakish heroes in my favorite romance novels promised to do to the objects of their affection and lust.

Ridiculous realm and its sinful inclinations. Of all the times for it to work its devious magic, now was the absolute worst. Though I wasn’t all that surprised. Wrath mentioned this realm sensing areas of struggle and bringing them to the forefront. I was certainly fighting inner emotions against physical longings.

Until I settled my internal war, I would likely be plagued by these urges.

I tore my focus from Wrath and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, looking to the wine. It would either help distract me or it would turn me into a feral creature, clawing at the prince’s clothes. Thinking of his clothing was a terrible mistake; it quickly led to thoughts of him without a shirt. Blood and bones, this forbidden attraction was growing worse by the minute.

Perhaps I should excuse myself to get fresh air. I glanced around, searching for a balcony or terrace. I needed to cool down immediately. After my royal introduction, there was little doubt that everyone here knew I was promised to his brother. It would hardly seem appropriate for me to be openly lusting over this prince when I was about to marry the king of demons.

Wrath leaned in, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear and I felt him smile. His voice was low enough so only I heard him. “One word and I’ll send them away.”

Temptation flared. “Do I appear that nervous?”

“I’m fairly confident what I’m sensing has nothing to do with nerves.”

A flush crept up my neck. I had no idea he could sense… arousal. Goddess curse me. This realm would be the death of me yet. I forced my thoughts back to the reason I’d come to this world. It had not been seduction or wanting that made me sign my soul away. It was vengeance. Fury. And those emotions were more powerful than any sinful magic.

Or any sinfully alluring prince.

I placed my lips to his ear. “Are you sensing the knife I’m now considering stabbing you with, your highness?”

“If this is an attempt to change the topic, you’re failing miserably.” His hand dropped beneath the table, landing gently on my knee. There was little doubt it was a nonverbal acknowledgment of my most recent lie. “I am even more interested in where this may lead, my lady. You forget what sin I rule over. I am rather fond of a bit of knife-play.”

“Your subjects are staring at us.”

With his free hand, he picked up his wine and took a long, careful sip. He acted as if we were enjoying a drink alone together instead of being observed by the lords and ladies of Hell.

He set the goblet down and stared out at the silent, watchful crowd. “You may be seated.”

I was loath to admit it, even silently, but his touch kept my nerves at bay as the royal court all took their seats. It was hard to concentrate on fear when his long fingers stroked the thin material of my gown, drawing all of my attention to that point of contact. I imagined he was attempting to soothe me, but his touch had the opposite effect. My heart raced.

The cursed prince did not appear affected at all. My attention fell to his lap.