Hunger, raw and untamed, flashed in his face. There was little doubt that I was about to be his main course. I set my wineglass aside. My breathing quickening in charged anticipation as he stalked closer; his cunning eyes, not missing the reaction I had to his proximity, twinkled.
“You certainly don’t look like you hate me, demon.”
“Hatred is the last thing I feel when I look at you.”
I wanted him to confess his love. He seemed like he wanted to. I was almost sure he was on the verge of saying those most precious words, when the prince pushed me against the countertop, his mouth crashing down on mine instead.
One hand tangled in my unbound hair, angling my head up to run his tongue along the seam of my lips, and my mouth parted on instinct, granting him access to taste and tease. His other arm hooked around my waist, anchoring me against his hard body. Each stroke of his tongue sent a streak of sensation through me, causing me to arch into him, seeking more.
Wrath possessed my mouth with the confidence of a partner who knew exactly how to seduce a lover properly and thoroughly. How to kiss with such passion, such vigor to both steal breath and give it. I swore he could tell how hard my heart was pounding and my knees were wobbling and that I never wanted the feeling to end, because he kissed me harder, demanding my body to give in to the pleasure he was offering, to surrender wholly and completely while he took me to heaven.
“I’m going to devour you right here on the counter, my lady.”
Wrath trailed openmouthed kisses along the neckline of my bodice, slowly pulling the material down to expose the top of my chest. His warm tongue darted out, teasing my aching flesh as his other hand slid up and cupped my other breast. He suckled over the material and squeezed, each pull of his mouth causing the heat in my belly to dip lower.
I dragged his mouth back up to mine, wanting to devour him. He ground his hips against me, and then the devious prince swallowed my moan, pushing his silken tongue back into my mouth. One hand fell to the hem of my skirts, his fingers curling into the material as he slowly dragged the hemline up.
“You’re so incredibly beautiful, Emilia.”
Wrath pulled back, allowing our lips to hover against each other, our breath mingling in a barely there kiss before he sealed his mouth over mine again. This kiss was probing, consuming. It made me crave him terribly. His fingers finally found that pulsing area between my legs, but just as he was about to bring my torment to an end, there was a knock at the door. Wrath withdrew his hand and pressed his forehead to mine, cursing.
“I am going to murder and maim my entire court. This whole fucking realm if someone interrupts us again. I hope you won’t mind ruling over a kingdom of nothing.”
“Maybe they’ll go away,” I offered, glancing down at Wrath’s trousers. Goddess above, I wanted that inside me now.
He grinned and tilted my chin up, running his thumb over my bottom lip until it parted. “Maybe.” He kissed me again, long and lingering. Another sharp knock sounded, breaking us apart. Wrath stepped back and glanced up at the ceiling, and I wondered if he hadn’t exactly been teasing about murdering his whole court. “I’ll get rid of them.”
The demon was across the kitchen a beat later and cracked the door. Lust barged in, grinning as he took in my rumpled appearance, then Wrath’s impressive bulge. “Really? The kitchens?” He slapped his brother on the back. “You might end up in my House of Sin yet, you lusty delinquent.”
Wrath let loose a deep, rumbling sound of annoyance that I found wildly endearing. “Why are you here without an invitation, and why shouldn’t I stab you?” he ground out.
“You’re cock dumb.” Lust found a pear in a large serving bowl and tossed it in the air before rubbing it on his lapel. He checked the buffed fruit over. “You asked us to the Pit at dawn. Everyone’s there, and the first fight’s ready to begin. They’re waiting on you.”
“The Pit?” I asked, looking between them. “Is it a boxing ring?”
“Legendary and exclusive. It’s the best fighting ring in the Seven Circles. This bastard hardly lets us come and watch.” Lust took a bite of his pear, his charcoal eyes gleaming at my inquisitive look. “Your husband provides his court a way to unleash their sin of choice. While also allowing mortal souls a chance at redemption. Boring as that part is.”
“And there’s a fight soon?”
Lust nodded. “From dawn until dusk.”
The idea of going anywhere for that long after the night we’d had made my knees go weak. Wrath didn’t miss a thing. He was by my side again in an instant, brushing his lips over mine. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Get some rest.”
Lust snorted and finished his pear. “Judging by that look, you’ll need it.”
Sleep still evaded me after Wrath and Lust left, so I decided to do some research. Until I saw my sister again, little could be done to learn anything else regarding Vesta’s disappearance, so I tackled the next biggest item on my list of goals. Breaking my spell-lock.
Thanks to Domenico’s snide comment about my mother having more important matters to attend to, I knew she wouldn’t be there, but I went to Celestia’s tower anyway. If anyone had any texts or notes on spell-locks, it would be the Matron of Curses and Poisons.
There had to be a way to remove the spell without sacrificing my heart. I refused to believe having Vittoria rip it out was my only option. If I could break the spell on my own, it would be one less thing to worry over. One less reason for people to try to keep tearing me and Wrath apart.
“Hello? Celestia?” I gently rapped my knuckles against the wooden door, waiting a few beats before trying the handle. It twisted easily, and the door swung open, revealing an empty, darkened chamber. Wane light trickled in from the windows set high in the tower, muted from the overcast skies and latest wintry storm.
I went in and found some candles and lanterns to light. I set them on the table piled with bundles of herbs and baskets of dried botanicals, then glanced around the circular chamber.
It looked like it had the last time I’d visited. There was a skull with arcane symbols etched onto it sitting on the mantel, various glass jars filled with items that tapped the sides, figurines, herbs, spices, dried petals, liquids in a wide array of colors, cauldrons and steaming vials of unknown origins. But the stack of grimoires and books—those were what I set about gathering. Once I had a decent pile, I pulled one of the wooden stools out and sat.
My mother, strange as it still was to think of Celestia that way, had meticulous notes on different remedies. I flipped through one grimoire that had sketches of plants along with quantities needed to blend the perfect tonic. Poisons and potions for love, for heartache, for upset stomachs and aching heads, for cursing an enemy with warts or pox or a flesh-eating rash.
I paused to read one; a spell for forgetting.