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

“My suite?” Wrath stared at me as I nodded. “We do not have to change the rules, Emilia. If I want to claim the fear as my prize, I will.”

“Only if you gain enough votes.” Gluttony’s grin widened as Wrath’s temper rumbled through the ballroom. “You may have won the hunt, but this is no longer your prize to claim. We’re substituting the guest of honor’s sacrifice. And she’s made her decision. You may choose the royal suite, the glass room, or, best yet, you may stay right here. Take her over the dais, or against the column. Then we can be sure you complete the task.”

“Unless you’d like to stand aside and have someone else volunteer,” Envy offered, his too-innocent smile indicating he was using the sin he ruled over to taunt his brother. “My vote would be on Gluttony. He is the host.”

“No.”

Wrath’s tone indicated there was no chance in this circle of Hell that he would turn this into a spectator sport and would go to war if his brothers tried any maneuvering.

Gluttony took it all in stride and I wondered if his mood ever soured or if he was permanently happy. “A tryst in your royal suite it is.” He clapped twice. “Master of ceremonies. Complete the ritual.”





Wrath paced around the quiet royal suite, a mighty predator caged. It did not matter that his cage was a well-appointed bedroom suite with chilled champagne, chocolate-covered fruits, crystal chandeliers, and silk sheets. And a fiancée who craved his touch.

Even if he hadn’t offered one of his secrets to allow me to keep mine, I would want him. It was time to stop lying to myself. To stop pretending that it was only the seductive magic of this world and our bond creating this attraction. I wanted him. It was his imposing figure I looked for in each crowded room. His protection I welcomed and his sin I aligned best with.

Regardless of our past and the circumstances that brought us here, to this moment, together, I wanted this night of passion with him.

The prince did not appear to feel the same. He prowled over to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel, watching as the flames turned silver and writhed before him. He did not speak on our walk here, nor did he look at me once we’d entered his suite.

Without turning to meet my stare, he said, “It’s not too late for me to give up a secret instead. We do not have to do this. I vowed you would have a choice. I stand by my word. My brothers will not vote against me, no matter what they said earlier.”

“I did choose.”

He finally turned, his expression thunderous. “Choosing between two less-than-ideal options is not a choice.”

My lips curved upward. “Will bedding you be less than ideal?”

“Do not make light of the situation.”

“I’m not.” My voice lost the teasing edge. “I’ve never wanted to give up a fear or secret. I cannot say the same about desiring you.”

His focus slid from my eyes to my mouth. “This is not the same.”

“Is it the most romantic proposition? There’s no denying it isn’t. However, I cannot say I’m displeased. As you’re an expert at sensing emotions and lies, I should think you know that. Therefore, I’m left to believe you’re upset because you feel as if your choice has been stolen.” A different thought occurred. “Or perhaps you don’t want to bed me.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“If you visited someone else last night and do not want to be with me, I understand. We can go back downstairs and I’ll complete the fear ceremony. You do not owe me anything.”

Wrath stalked across the room, and I held my ground. He gently set his hands on my hips and pulled me against him. A little thrill shot through me where our bodies connected. Even through his trousers and my beaded gown, I could feel his truth pressed against me.

“You see?” His voice was rough, deep. It scraped against some inner part of me, making me want to lean into him more. “It is not a matter of wanting you, Emilia.”

“Then what is it?”

“Call it selfish. But I do not want there to be any outside forces driving you into my arms.” He tilted my face up, his lips hovering above mine. “When you decide to come to my bedchamber, I want you to know whose sheets you’re climbing between. I want you to call out my name.”

“I know who you are.”

“Do you?” His lips lightly trailed across my skin, almost touching the sensitive area of my neck, but not quite, as he brought his mouth to my ear. “I should like to hear you say it.”

“Your brothers only said ‘tryst.’” I abruptly changed the subject. “They did not specify that we needed to…”

“To?” He leaned back, his mouth twisting up on one side as he waited. The devil knew exactly what I meant. And he’d feign confusion until I said it.

“Fuck. Or fornicate. Though I’ve only heard the first word in this circle, repeated like a wicked prayer when I left the pleasure garden last night.”

His laughter was loud and lovely. I wished I could stuff the crass word back into my stupid mouth as my cheeks pinked and I silently cursed them and the demon.

He brushed his knuckles across my jaw, his expression filled with warmth.

“No, I suppose they did not specify whether we had to fornicate.” His eyes darkened to a molten gold. “What would you have me do instead, my lady? This?”

I didn’t have time to answer. He trailed little love bites along the column of my throat. I didn’t even attempt to rein in the sigh that escaped me as his tongue flicked over my pulse point.

“Tell me what you desire and it will be yours.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into his caress. An image of the lovers spread out on the table in the entryway during our arrival crossed my mind. Wrath’s mouth moved along my shoulder, his kisses hot and distracting the closer they drew to my décolletage.

“I want…”

He stopped long enough to draw back and look into my eyes. “Yes?”