Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (42)

Here lay a choice. Wrath, temptation incarnate, waited, as if he knew where my thoughts had drifted. I swore there was something about the forbidden that made it sweeter to taste.

Or perhaps that was just a lie I told myself. Maybe I simply liked the taste of him, against my better judgment. I waded closer and slowly reached for him. His breath caught as I turned him away from me and tentatively traced the lines of Latin tattooed across his shoulders. I’d been curious about the ink from the first moment I’d summoned him in the bone circle all those months ago. Goose bumps rose on his skin with each gentle pass of my fingertips.

“Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.” I bit my lower lip, trying to translate it. “The stars…”

He rotated until we faced each other again, his eyes glowing softly in the dark. “The stars incline us; they do not bind us.”

“Beautiful.”

I did not miss the significance of him permanently inking onto his body that he did not want to be bound by anything. I thought of our betrothal bond, of how I’d forced it on him without knowing. Then I’d bound him to the summoning circle for days, refusing to set him free. No wonder he despised me then. It was a wonder he didn’t hate me now.

“I’m sorry.” The words were so soft, I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “For binding you.”

He reached over and tucked a wet strand behind my ear, his touch lingering before he stepped back. “Fate may deal its hand, try encouraging our path or intervene, but we are ultimately free to choose our own destiny. Never doubt that.”

“I thought you were without free will.”

His smile was tinged with sadness. “Choice is granted to all. But for some it comes with a price.”

“Did you get that tattoo to remind yourself of your choice?”

“Yes.” His gaze fastened onto mine. “I believe John Milton, a mortal poet, said it best. ‘Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.’ I told you the power of choice, the appeal it holds for me. I would do terrible things, unforgivable things, to choose my destiny. Cursed and wretched though it may be. It is mine. Unless you’ve been without true choice, you can’t understand the allure it holds.”

“What of the serpent, was that another choice?”

“All of the ink on my body, with the exception of our tattoos, were my choice.”

My attention fell to his lips and lingered before something a little lower caught my attention. Faintly, in silver ink, another phrase was scrawled under his left clavicle. I’d never seen it before. Without thinking, I ran my fingertips across the writing. Acta non verba.

I had no trouble understanding that one. Actions, not words.

“And the design on your thigh?”

Wrath went still, and it was only then that I realized I’d drifted near enough that our bodies were almost touching. I forgot my question, forgot everything except the fire in his gaze as it slowly consumed me inch by inch. I didn’t think he could see much because the water was nearly to my neck, but it certainly didn’t feel as if that were any true barrier.

When he looked at me with the heated intensity he was now… any lingering hatred or animosity between us burned away. Perhaps that was the truth he did not want revealed by the lagoon. The world’s magic took hold, encouraging my emotions until I could no longer deny my growing desire, either. His wet-slicked skin slid against mine as I closed the distance.

Maybe it was the dreamlike beauty of the celestial scene painted on the ceiling, or the sultry steam of the Crescent Shallows. Or maybe it was simply yearning made flesh, but I craved the sensation of his hands on my body. We were two consenting adults. And I wanted him to unleash all of his sensual power on me.

I thought about my earlier fantasy of him taking me against the wall or table.

Never, in all my life, had I reacted to someone in such a carnal way. I’d had crushes, dreams of kisses and more, but this was no small infatuation. This was desire in its purest form.

My longing was growing out of control. I wanted to touch him, no longer content with denying myself or my passions. All I needed to do was take that first step.

I rolled up onto my toes and brushed his damp hair back in gentle strokes.

I waited to see if he’d put distance between us. If he’d tell me I was the last creature in all the realms combined that he’d want. His expression was almost as tense as his body. I couldn’t tell if he was fighting attraction, or if he was dutifully allowing an enemy to seduce him.

I leaned in and pressed my lips against the ink along his collarbone, giving him another opportunity to move. Instead of stepping aside, his hand splayed across my lower back, holding me in place. I knew, without a doubt, the mighty warrior would let me go if I decided to stop or walk away. My mouth moved to his other shoulder, kissing him there.

“Emilia.” He said my name softly. It was so close to the version of him I’d conjured in the Sin Corridor, but this wasn’t another fantasy. This moment was real.

“I know you won’t tell me your true name.” I trailed my hands down his chest. His intense gaze tracked each of my movements. “But it feels a little odd, murmuring ‘Wrath’ at a time like this.”

I flicked my attention back up as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. The mighty general of war was struggling with some inner battle. Perhaps he was worried this was another game of strategy, one he’d lose if he started playing by my rules.