He fell silent for a few moments, then said quietly, “Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances of our union, we are well suited. Enough.”
I stared at him, unblinking. With such a wildly romantic declaration, who needed love or passion? If I wasn’t marrying Pride to carry out my scheme, I was going to marry for love. “Well suited enough” was also grossly misrepresenting the situation. I still wished to strangle Wrath more often than I wished to kiss or bed him. I had a feeling he felt the same way. Which perhaps was an indication of being well suited enough. Ours would be an unholy union of fury.
“Your brother is aware of this?”
“Of course.”
The demon prince seemed braced for a violent outburst; his feet were subtly planted shoulder-width apart, his body angled forward. He deserved a good slap for keeping this from me, but I could hardly wrap my mind around his confession and the strange way his words—innocuous though they were—suddenly heated my blood.
My whole body hummed with awareness, almost preternaturally. I was aware of every one of his movements, from the slight shifting of his feet to his steady breath. My new awareness of him did not alleviate my anger. If anything, it only stoked it more.
New realizations clicked into place. If I was a member of House Wrath, other royal houses—such as Pride’s court—would never share gossip regarding their prince. Any hopes and plans I had of gaining information I needed about Pride’s first wife were ruined.
“This is madness.”
I had taken the chaos my world devolved into after Vittoria’s death and had created a tiny semblance of order by coming here. And I’d only accomplished that because of my vow to her.
Now… now my life was once again spinning out of control because of the Wicked.
Wrath in particular. My fury finally exploded.
“You keep telling me I have a choice. When does that actually happen? Certainly not when it comes to which demon House I choose. Or which prince I thought I was betrothed to. Let’s not forget my personal favorite, back in Palermo when I asked if you’d make me come here. To rule in Hell. You said you would never force me. Apparently tricking is a perfectly acceptable substitute. Congratulations.” I clapped slowly. “You truly know your way around bending the truth. I must admit, I’m impressed.”
He didn’t look relieved, but he did relax his stance, marginally. I saw the exact moment he recalled the night I was talking about, when I thought I’d broken our betrothal with a spell of un-making. He’d sworn he wouldn’t force me into a marriage or take me to the underworld. Apparently, more half-truths if not full lies.
“You still do. You do not have to complete our marriage.”
I pointed a finger in accusation at the summoning Mark.
“And what about this unbreakable bond? It doesn’t feel like a choice. I realize you had much to sacrifice, too, but at least you were aware of what you were deciding. Regardless, you should have told me before now. I had every right to know.”
“The Mark was the best alternative I could come up with at the time. And thanks to the venom, I didn’t have many other options to explore before it stopped your heart. I asked you to grant me permission to help that night. There was your choice. You betrothed us. I accepted.”
As if I needed a reminder of that grievous error. “Alternative to what?”
“To delay certain urges the acceptance creates.”
“Urges.”
My mouth shut with an audible click as understanding sank in. All of my lust-filled thoughts and feelings toward Wrath had slowly been intensifying. They’d been eroding my distrust and the betrayal I had felt. I’d thought it was only this realm, its tendency toward desire, fueling my emotions, nudging me toward that almost primal frenzy to bed him. But it wasn’t. It was also an ancient need to claim my husband. To secure our marriage.
Goddess above. Wrath was my intended.
I’d been fighting a battle on many fronts and hadn’t even known it. No wonder resisting temptation had been so hard. I’d been battling the bond, the realm, and its nudges for me to face my fears of owning my sexual desire without guilt or shame.
If I was being honest, the conflicted feelings had started well before we came to this world. When he’d been attacked by Envy and bled out before me, something had shifted then.
And prior to that, when I’d been under Lust’s spell, I’d wanted Wrath desperately. For a moment that night, he seemed to want to close the distance between us, too.
I snapped myself into the present. “Your acceptance of the betrothal creates desire?”
“Consummation, along with a traditional ceremony, complete the marriage bond.” He searched my face, probably seeing if I was about to hit him now. I wanted to. Tremendously. “You look…”
“Angry?” I raised my brows and canted my head. He was wise enough to know that the silence that followed was twice as dangerous as raising a hand.
“Create was a poor word choice. It encourages the completion of the bond. At some level, you have to already possess those feelings, or else there’d be nothing for the bond to encourage.”
“Has the realm ever been encouraging me, or is it only our bond?”
“Both.”
“And your summoning Mark does what, exactly?”
“Marking you subdues the marriage urges because it’s its own unbreakable link between us. If you were to think of it in terms of a body of water, it would be similar to a river that breaks into two smaller streams. Each diluting the other to an extent, until they rejoin.”
Which was why he’d brushed his knuckles across the Mark whenever we kissed; he’d been trying to dilute my urges. He also did that while I was under Lust’s influence at the bonfire. Which meant he’d been tamping it down for a while. And hadn’t bothered to tell me.
I don’t know why it stung so badly, but it did.
“What happens if I refuse to accept the marriage? Will I still want you in my bed?”