Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (52)

I told myself my swift acceptance had nothing to do with the fact my betrothed was in my private suite, standing shirtless near my bed, looking like he was carved from the very essence of temptation itself. He kept a careful distance, almost painfully so, but there wasn’t anything he could do to dampen my awareness of him. The space between us seemed to vibrate with both tension and anticipation. I wasn’t sure if it was only coming from me, or if he felt it, too. He’d retreated back to the enigmatic prince who was cordial, but otherwise difficult to read.

I was not nearly as calm. My emotions were still aflutter after learning the truth, and I had every right to tuck myself safely in denial until I sorted through them. Far away from the prince.

The twinkle of mirth finally broke into his cool features as I ushered him out of my rooms and practically shut the door on his heels. I leaned my head against the wall and exhaled. An hour earlier I’d felt much differently. I couldn’t get him into my bed fast enough.

I slammed the memory of our romantic encounter outside his rooms from my mind. Recalling the pleasant sensation of his hands stroking and exploring would do nothing to clear my head.

“What a nightmare.”

I rushed into my bathing chamber to splash water on my face and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, immediately understanding his amused reaction. My dark eyes were wide and wild, my hair unruly from our earlier dip into trouble, and my skin was flushed as if some torturous fever had overtaken me. I was an untamed, frenzied mess on the inside and it was shining through to the outside. Certainly not the ideal reaction to matrimony to boost any male ego or confidence. Though it wasn’t as if Wrath lacked in either of those areas.

My gaze snagged on my amulet, briefly wrenching me from thoughts of husbands and wives and unbreakable magical bonds. Given Envy’s reaction to the Horn of Hades last time, I wanted the necklace far away from him. I refused to take any careless chances by parading it under his nose while staying in his royal House.

I took it off and placed it at the bottom of my vanity drawer. I’d let Wrath know where to find it in the morning. As I closed the drawer, I noticed something that hadn’t been present earlier: a silver hand mirror and matching brush and comb were placed atop the table.

They appeared sometime after I’d cleaned up from Lord Makaden’s blood and now. I admired the detailed etching, marveling at the craftsmanship. Another beautiful—and thoughtful—gift from my future husband. I sighed. If Wrath started wooing me, I wasn’t sure I’d recall all the reasons we weren’t a proper match. Of which there were many.

First, he was a prince of Hell, a mortal enemy to witches. Next, he was secretive and did not trust me any more than I trusted him with full disclosure. He also might feel lust around me, but that did not equal love. I wanted a true partner, an equal and confidant. Wrath would always hold his proverbial cards close, and I wasn’t sure he’d ever deal me in. Given the tenuous nature of our current relationship, I might never fully include him in my plans, either.

I removed the animal skulls and flower clips from around the crown of my head, then ran the comb through my loose curls, trying desperately to slow my pulse. It was no use.

I set the comb down and returned to my bedchamber, pacing so quickly around the room I almost worked up a sweat, too wound up to attempt sleep. As appealing as shoving my feelings aside was, I needed to sort through some of the tangle before I left for Envy’s House.

Wrath was a handsome, unwed prince, and he was no doubt highly sought after by all eligible ladies of the nobility. He was a bit aloof at times, and arrogant, but he was also charming and flirtatious when he wished to be. He’d once even called himself “His Royal Highness of Undeniable Desire.” And, goddess curse him, I could see how that was true. If he set his attention on someone, I doubted they would resist his romantic pursuit for long.

He approached everything strategically and it would only be a matter of time before the object of his desire happily surrendered to his careful seduction. He’d certainly been a generous lover in the Crescent Shallows, focusing on my needs as if that gave him ultimate pleasure to do so. In fact, I imagined he had his pick of all-too-willing bed partners before I entered his world. Some vying for his throne and power, others solely interested in his body.

I abruptly stopped pacing as another thought occurred to me, one that pricked like the little spikes on a crab shell when we served those at our trattoria. I’d thought of it earlier, and now it seemed to taunt me with larger implications.

Wrath hadn’t professed love or affection, only that we were well suited enough. While it wasn’t the romantic moment of my dreams, there was truth in his statement.

I knew him enough to know he would never force me into anything or interfere with my free will, and at least I wouldn’t be tied to the devil. But I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if there was someone else he’d prefer to wed. Before I’d accidentally summoned him and betrothed us, it was possible there had been someone in his bed and his heart.

Someone he might be thinking of now. When we first met, he’d made it abundantly clear how much he hated witches. Even if his feelings for me were thawing, it might not ever be enough for him to truly love me. Would he keep a mistress if we completed our marriage bond?

I didn’t like the pinch of discomfort that came with those thoughts.

No matter how hard I tried to quiet my brain, I couldn’t stop thinking of our passionate encounter in the lagoon and then outside his bedchamber. His hands on my body, my back pressed against the wall, his tongue claiming mine… in those moments he felt right.