Camilla’s gift, however, had been different. Envy had shopped for everything himself. And he’d given her far more than a simple party favor. Camilla might not be royalty, but he’d wanted to see her look like a princess tonight, unmatched in dignity, in grace. In part because her beauty called for it, and in part to show Vexley he’d never stood a chance.
Sparks of envy already flitted through the ballroom air, feeding his sin, and magnified by the seductive oils he’d placed throughout to stoke every human sense. Vanilla, ginger, jasmine, musk—each scent evoked a different feeling, promised a new delight.
Knowing he had to store up as much power as possible for the game, Envy had played into the darkness of sin through his chosen décor, too. Dark wooden tables and chairs, a black crystal chandelier. Sconces and candelabras made of iron, fitted with ebony beeswax tapers.
Below him, the ballroom floor gleamed like a meadow at night, the blackish-green marble buffed to clearly reflect the masked faces of the dancers gliding across it.
At his nod, his hired quartet began to play, and gowns in every hue unfurled like flower petals as they twirled across the large expanse of floor, each reflecting its own beautiful midnight blossom within the marble.
Envy’s vision had come together exquisitely.
The mortals sensed the true grandeur, sipping their drinks, talking in little groups, growing bolder as the night grew later because of the masks they wore. Envy had guessed they’d allow themselves to indulge in sin a bit more if they had a sense of anonymity.
Although, thus far, the most scandalous thing he’d witnessed was men stealing more dances than society normally permitted.
He wondered what Camilla would be like, whether her mask would make her bold. Envy waited for a splash of silver to cut through the rainbow of colors swirling below, thinking of her desire in the tunnel several nights before. It had been so intense, so heady, it had nearly made Envy lose sight of his goal.
Envy pictured her silver hair, then thought about winding it slowly around his fist, angling her face up to his. Would she fight such a leash, or welcome it? In either case, he’d cover her mouth with his until she forgot her anger, forgot she’d ever wished to deny him what he wanted most. He could imagine her moans as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, possessing her as she’d wanted, up against that wall.
He’d been tempted by her then and was frustrated to realize he still was. Maybe Envy needed to get her into his bed, bargain aside, so she could remove herself from his head shortly after.
One night and then he’d finally be satisfied.
“Careful, brother.”
Lust sidled up beside him, a tumbler of Dark and Sinful dangling from his fingertips.
“Some might confuse that expression for longing.”
Envy remembered the role he needed to play. He was a Prince of Hell, debauched, insolent. Looking for the sort of fun to inspire his sin.
He wasn’t a desperate male on the verge of losing everything.
“They would be correct,” Envy said. “I long for the next clue.”
Lust snorted.
“Stubborn prick.”
“You sound like Pride now. Perhaps you ought to do as Sloth has suggested—branch out and be more creative.”
“Since you are so unbothered, I’ll happily bend Camilla over and shove my cock deep—”
Lust made a garbled sound.
Envy had exploded before he could think through his actions. Still, he squeezed his brother’s throat tighter, his expression void of humor.
“Don’t.”
“Why? It’s lust, not love. No need to act like our love-drunk big brother. Unless, of course, this game is different from the others.” Lust’s gaze sharpened; he’d been purposefully provoking Envy. “There isn’t anything you’d like to confess, is there?”
A loud roaring sounded in Envy’s head. Lust hid his cunning behind his jovial persona, but his instincts were nearly unmatched by any of their other brothers.
“Until she’s mine,” Envy said smoothly, “you know how I feel about sharing.”
It was normally true. Everyone knew how territorial he could be.
“Good. For a moment it looked like you were thinking of tearing my throat out.”
Lust flashed him a wolfish grin before his gaze darted behind Envy.
Envy dropped his hand and flexed it, poised to strike again.
His brother tossed an arm around his shoulders, turning him to face the dance floor.
“If you won’t take the artist to bed, someone else will.”
There she was—a shimmering blade cutting through the darkness. His princess of starlight, if only for one evening. The woman who held him and his court in her burning, deadly grasp.
“Gods fucking damn,” Lust muttered beside him, whistling softly. “That woman.”
Envy barely noticed Lady Katherine and Lord Edwards standing beside her, mere shadows in masks of blue and gray. Between them, Camilla held her head high, her otherworldly hair pulled back from her mask, curled and cascading down her bare shoulders.
His attention slid over her collarbones, admiring the dip in the gown that hinted at her curves but didn’t reveal much. It was meant to tease, to seduce, and Miss Camilla Antonius was enchanting the whole room. At Vexley’s party she’d been shy, wanting to fade into the shadows, escape notice.
With her shining silver mask, she owned every ounce of attention that came her way now. She was a star, and she refused to dull her light for any mere mortal.
Which was fitting, since she wasn’t meant for a mortal man tonight.
She was meant for Envy.
And after she agreed to paint the Hexed Throne, because he had to believe she would, he was going to enjoy every second of their time together. Worshipping her body until the sunlight streamed in through the windows and their night of passion ended.
Envy was ready to make his own grand entrance when he saw something that made his sin ignite.
Vexley had arrived as well and was already whisking Camilla onto the dance floor. His hand had settled far too low on her hip for Envy’s liking.
Jealousy, ice-cold and ancient, frosted the railing where Envy stood.
Mortals peering over the next balcony shrieked as ice shot across their banister next.
Gods damn it. Envy used a tiny bit of magic to glamour the mortals’ memories, making them forget the oddity they’d just experienced. Once they’d settled, he flashed his brother a warning look.
“Don’t start.”
Before Lust could needle him about his temper again, Envy was already descending the stairs.
Masked lords and ladies attempted to catch his attention, stepping into his path, clearing their throats. Envy carved through them like a dagger, aiming for the mortal who had a certain wish to die. Vexley’s garish gold mask was about as subtle as his hands sliding lower on Miss Antonius’s form. If they dipped any farther, Envy would chop them off.
Envy ignored gasps as he strode with purpose onto the dance floor. He didn’t speak, didn’t deign to ask to cut in. Vexley ought to thank his God that Envy didn’t shove his blade through his heart right there. Or perhaps he’d stab the idiot’s cock first, show him how it felt when someone took something that wasn’t theirs.