Wrath’s voice was barely more than a whisper, yet the hair along my arms stood on end. Power pulsed in the air around us like a storm was about to hit. That was the only warning anyone received. And then it happened; a thunderous crack rent the air, silencing the drumbeats. The duke standing before me froze, a look of confusion quickly turning to fear as he dropped his cock and jumped back, narrowly missing a chunk of ceiling that crashed before him. Bits of plaster rained down, falling in a circle around me, protecting me from the impending chaos.
I drew my attention up—lines spiderwebbed across the ceiling, the cracks growing until it crumbled. Wood splintered, crystal chandeliers rattled, the stage started caving in on itself as if the ground was swallowing it whole. Demons shouted and abandoned their sex shows as they rushed for safety. I sat in the center of my impenetrable ring, watching as gaming table after gaming table was suddenly coated in ice, heavy and thick enough to break and shatter the ornate wood.
“Blood and bones.” Our game had worked. Maybe too well.
A table nearby disintegrated. Another quickly following. All around the gaming hall, furniture exploded into dust or was coated in ice that was so heavy it broke all it touched into shards. My table remained undamaged, the one speck of calm in the storm of wrath.
Wrath’s fury was demolishing the entire room, piece by piece. My breath came out in white clouds, the temperature now dangerously below freezing. It was as if we’d crossed into a world made entirely of ice; it was cruel and harsh and lethal. Just like the look on my prince’s face when he turned that wrathful gaze on the duke. I shuddered. And Devon promptly pissed himself.
Then Wrath was truly there, tossing me over his shoulder like a barbarian, his large hand covering my backside as he carried me from the destroyed chamber.
He was practically vibrating from the pressure of holding back his power. I couldn’t imagine what else he could do, what else he could destroy, if this was only a taste of his magic.
My attention landed on Lust, who was chuckling in the chaos. Recalling our game, I began pounding on Wrath’s back. “Put me down!”
The demon prince didn’t respond, not that I expected him to. Wrath was focused only on his sin as he swiftly removed us from the gaming hall, where shouts were still ringing out and the violent, unnatural blizzard swirled within that chamber. Snowflakes kissed my bare skin, so cold they felt like little nips. Wrath truly was a force of nature.
Using supernatural speed, he had us back in our room before I knew it.
He gently set me on my feet and paced away, his fury lashing out. I hid my grin. Our plan worked beautifully. Wrath’s sin had ruined one of Greed’s gaming rooms, and we got information on Vesta. Overall, it was a wild success. Though the poor duke would claim otherwise.
“Well?” I asked. “Do you think it was a believable scene?”
It had to be—Vittoria’s life depended on it.
Wrath slowly turned from where he’d magicked the room to conceal our voices, his attention raking over me. He did, indeed, look like a feral animal whose leash just snapped and was testing for any new cage. My heartbeat quickened, and not in fear. I’d wished to provoke him into action. And he certainly looked primed and ready to act. His arousal strained against his trousers, and the way he was staring at me, like he’d devote himself to wringing pleasure from my body for hours on end, made me ache for him all over again.
“Did you enjoy the show, your majesty?” Holding his gaze, I pivoted in place, making sure the pearl tassels swished against my backside. “You could have at least allowed the poor duke to finish. The nobility at the table was enjoying his performance.”
“Emilia.” It didn’t sound like a warning as much as a plea. One more step, and he’d be as gone as I was.
“Was I wicked enough to fool a prince of Hell?” I ran my hands over my barely there top, allowing one strap to fall down. “Better yet… was I wicked enough to entice the devil?”
Wrath cursed gods I’d never heard of as I sauntered closer. He looked like he was a breath away from pouncing. I practically felt the tension snapping between us, and I leaned into it.
Wrath took a small step toward me, his gaze locked onto mine. The hunter had come out to play. “Tell me you want this.”
My attention ran over him, slowly and thoroughly. I hadn’t forgotten that anger acted as an aphrodisiac to him. Hadn’t forgotten how it also made me feel.
“Right now, I want the demon, not the prince. Show me why they call you the Wicked.” I grabbed his shirt and tugged him to me, my lips hovering above his. “And don’t you dare hold back.”
SIX
Wrath had me against the wall before I drew my next breath. He fingered the pearls of my top, his breath hot against the back of my neck as he roughly ground his hips against me. “If you change your mind—”
I spun around and cut him off with a violent kiss. “Stop again, even for a second, and I promise we’ll test your fondness for knife play, demon.”
Wrath’s answering smile promised deviance. He gently stroked my breasts over the pearl top until they grew heavy and ached for more.
“This top.” His fingers curled around a strand, his warm, bare skin almost brushing mine. I never hated a piece of clothing more. “Needs to go.”
The prince’s grip tightened on the strand, and he yanked, the pearls bouncing across the floor as my top broke apart. He allowed his gaze to slowly peruse my eyes, my lips, and every inch of my body until he’d reached the floor and dragged it back up. I loved when he looked at me like that. Like I was the beginning and end of each of his fantasies. He certainly was mine.
“You are absolutely devastating.” He dipped his head, kissing his way down my neck, not stopping until he’d cupped one of my breasts and sucked it into his mouth, his teeth scraping ever so lightly. I leaned against the wall, my hands traveling down his powerful arms, holding him close as he lathed his tongue over the sensitive peak.
“Wrath.” I writhed against him, unable to stand the slow, expert flicking of his tongue. My body was drenched and ready. “I want you. So bad I can’t think straight.”
He pressed openmouthed kisses to my other breast, laughing quietly as I gripped his hair and held on. “When I saw you on that idiot’s lap, soaking wet and nearly coming, I wanted to fuck you right there. In front of the whole damned court.”
The way he growled, low and rough like his very un-princelike words, set my blood on fire. I pressed against him, needing to feel him as I went up on my toes and whispered, “I would have let you.”
Wrath’s lips crashed against mine, the kiss neither sweet nor tender. It was animalistic and wild. A claiming and battle for domination. Tonight, we’d complete the physical part of our marriage bond, and Wrath did not want a submissive queen. He longed for an equal. Just as I did.