Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked Book 2)
Kingdom of the Cursed: CHAPTER 9

His kiss consumed and seduced me. Just as he’d meant it to. It wasn’t fast or hard or fueled by hatred or fury. It was an ember, a promise of the blazing fire to come with a bit of careful tending. I almost considered it sweet—the kind of chaste embrace two courting lovers stole when their chaperone wasn’t looking—until he slowly raised my arms above my head, pinning me to the wall by my wrists. He took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently. Then I remembered: he was no angel. And I was suddenly all too willing to be damned.

Curse this realm and its fiendish machinations. Its need for sin. My undeniable need for him. Right now there was no blood oath with the devil. No betrothal or obligations to my family. There was only this moment, this wicked prince, and the heat steadily building between us.

Wrath’s body molded against mine, rock hard and unyielding in all the right places. Whatever hunger I felt was equally matched by him. I wish I hated it. I wish I didn’t run my tongue over his lips, or sigh as he obeyed my silent demand and deepened our kiss.

This new kiss devoured, plundered, stole. It was apology and wanting and a fierce refusal to submit to any true feelings all in one. Primal need at its most basic level. I couldn’t tell if letting myself give in to this wild feeling frightened or thrilled me.

I yanked away, breathing hard. “Is this real?”

“Yes.”

As if to prove the truth in his statement, his hips rolled forward and I was almost certain the whole castle quaked the second our bodies connected. There was no mistaking how much this dark prince wanted me. I grabbed the lapels on his jacket and brought his lips back to mine.

For one heart-thundering moment, I wished he’d hike my gown up right there, bury himself deep inside me and release every last one of my trapped desires. I longed to forget where I was and what I had to do. I wanted to abandon all of the hurt and pain and grief that were never far. All I desired was the sweet oblivion of touch. Wrath could easily provide that. And more.

He leashed himself and broke away from our kiss, only to begin languidly stroking the top of my bodice. Need flared through me and seemed to mirror itself in him. He dragged his hands down my sides, gripping me a little tighter to his body. “You may destroy me yet.”

“Sooner rather than later if you don’t stop talking and kiss me again.”

“Demanding, angelic creature.”

He smiled indulgently at me, then obliged. This kiss. It was slow and drugging and made me realize he wasn’t the only one in danger of being destroyed. He tilted my face up, traced the line of my jaw, then slid his fingers down my neck, lightly brushing them across my pulse point.

Tiny bits of electricity sparked beneath his caress. I’d almost forgotten he’d Marked me, giving me a way to summon him without using his House dagger. The tiny, nearly invisible S tingled. Nonna said the Mark was a high honor, one that was rarely given.

She hadn’t been pleased.

I immediately tunneled back into myself and forced the addictive quality of his kisses aside. I almost felt the magic of the world recede like the tide going out, its disappointment crashing in reluctant waves around us.

Wrath gently released his hold on me, sensing the emotional shift.

“Why?” I managed to get one word out, my voice still thick with desire.

“I didn’t think you’d prefer an audience.”

An indecent image of him taking me on the dining room table flashed across my mind. It was so vivid I swore I heard sounds of shock from guests as their prince showed me just how sinful he could be, glasses shattering and forks clattering onto the finest demon china as Wrath drove us both over the edge, heedless of anyone who looked on.

I swallowed a nervous giggle. That entrance would certainly make an impression House Wrath would not soon forget. I shoved those scandalous thoughts away.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Though I did wonder why he decided to kiss me now.

His teeth bared in a semblance of a smile, a knowing gleam entering his eyes. Evasion admitted. I couldn’t help but shake my head, my lips curling up at the edges. It was progress, small though it may be. Or maybe I was finally learning to read him better. Though I suspected—in this particular moment—he was also not trying to hide from me as much. I tried not to let wariness ruin the moment.

“I was talking about Marking me. Not whatever”—I nodded between us—“this is.”

He searched my face for a strained minute, the last vestiges of heat leaving his expression. His eyes were nearly solid black now. This time there was no mistaking the rumble that shook the castle. He rolled his shoulders, as if releasing tension in them and between us.

Wrath held his arm out to me, all traces of passion wiped from his face.

Here stood the cold and unfeeling prince of Hell. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“We can’t linger anymore. It’s time to meet my court.”

Our arrival outside the oversized bone-carved doors of the royal dining hall was a blur. I couldn’t recall if Wrath had spoken to me on our seemingly endless walk here, or if he’d escorted me in complete, stoic silence. It was likely the latter; I couldn’t imagine him ever engaging in something as pedestrian as inquiring about my day or the weather.

Not that I would have noticed either way.

There was an odd feeling in my chest; a slight tugging or gnawing or peculiar combination of the two. At first I thought it was panic fluttering against my ribs, fear over what had just transpired between us, but that wasn’t quite right. The feeling was slowly pooling out, traveling from my heart like a meandering stream along the underside of my arm.

Wrath turned his head in my direction, a deep furrow forming in his brow.

I glanced down at what he’d been staring at. My cornicello glowed that pale, unearthly purple of a human’s luccicare. It had happened twice before. Once when I’d first found Wrath standing over the corpse of my twin. And again when I’d found my amulet half-buried in a tunnel after it had been stolen. Right before the almost incorporeal Umbra demons had attacked and Envy had stuck his House dagger deep into Wrath’s belly.

My hands curled into fists as I remembered the way Wrath’s blood had dried on my hands, under my nails. The utter feeling of…

“Breathe.” His voice was deep and calming. “We will make introductions, then leave if you do not wish to stay and dine with them.”

“I’m not nervous.”

And I was surprised to discover that was true. I let go of Wrath’s arm and brushed my fingers over the cool metal of the amulet for comfort, an old habit I’d probably never break. The devil’s horns, I reminded myself with a small shudder. Not an amulet to ward off evil. This necklace was no longer the innocent charm I’d believed it was all my life.

Upon contact, a small current passed into my skin, alarming me enough to yank my hand back. That was new. I flicked my attention to Wrath. “Did you see that?”

He nodded, not taking his gaze from the shrunken devil horn. Concern was still present in his features. “Are you able to wear it during the meal?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ve worn it for almost two decades.”

“If you experience anything uncomfortable, tell me immediately.”

Wrath seemed on the verge of saying something else but changed his mind at the last moment. Now my heartbeat quickened. “Uncomfortable how?”

“Anything unusual. No matter how small or seemingly innocuous.”

I was about to tell him of the tingling sensation, but it faded into nothing before the words could form on my tongue. Perhaps it was only nerves getting the better of me. I’d traveled to the underworld with one of the Wicked, made a blood bargain with the devil, and was seconds away from meeting the Prince of Wrath’s scheming court of demons.

Not to mention, I’d just been thoroughly ravished by someone who was not my intended and my lips were probably swollen in accusation. While my emotional feelings for Wrath were much more complex, I hadn’t disliked the kiss. In fact, it seemed to have unlocked a truth I didn’t want to examine closely. He’d asked if I could bed someone I hated, and while my mind still churned with anger over his betrayal, my body responded to his touch.

I couldn’t imagine Pride taking the news of my tryst with his brother well. Who knew if he had spies in this court, eager and ready to report back any unsavory business? While I wouldn’t mind sowing seeds of discord among the two Houses, I did not want to alienate my betrothed and ruin my chance to solve Vittoria’s murder. I had every right to be nervous. It would be odd if I wasn’t.

Wrath leaned in and skimmed his knuckles over my neck, his voice as soft as his touch. Whatever magic fueled his summoning Mark instantly calmed me. “Ready?”

I nodded. He studied my face and must have seen I was indeed primed for my introduction to House Wrath. Without warning, he spun on his heel and kicked in the doors.

He strode through them right as they crashed against the wall, his footsteps claps of thunder in the sudden silence. My breath caught. It was not at all the way I’d imagined making our grand entrance. Given his penchant for fine clothing and impeccable manners, I thought he’d be more… genteel or refined. I should know better than to assume anything about him.

A wave of smartly dressed demons dropped to their knees, their heads bowed and eyes lowered as he stalked into the room. Wrath paused several paces inside the large dining hall and waited for me to make my way to him. My steps were slow and steady, unlike my pulse.

It felt like both an eternity and only a mere second had passed before I crossed the room, gown whispering over the stone, and halted near the Prince of Wrath.

When he spoke, his voice was laced with royal command. “Rise. And bid Her Highness Emilia Maria di Carlo, your future queen, welcome.”

The goddesses must have been watching over me because I managed to swallow my shock without showing it. I subtly turned to Wrath, a question in my eyes. I had not been told about the “her highness” part. I imagined that would happen after the coronation, or whatever the demon equivalent was. The corner of his mouth twitched before his expression hardened again and he addressed the sea of curious demons in that cool, unforgiving tone.

“Remember what I said about respect. As a prince of Hell’s intended, Lady Emilia’s status has been elevated. You will only address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘my lady.’ Insult her, and you will answer to me.”

Wrath stared at one lord in particular, and I assumed it was the one Fauna said he’d already threatened. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that look—it was cold enough to cause a shudder in surrounding nobles. And they did not seem like the kind of subjects who were easily cowed.

“Consider this my final warning.”

Wrath shifted to me then, holding out his arm. I placed my hand in the crook of his arm and lifted my chin. We walked side by side to a large table set at the back of the room, and I subtly let my gaze travel across the chamber, drinking in our surroundings. A tapestry hung against the far wall, depicting a warrior angel locked in battle with demons. Severed heads rolled at his feet. Blood-splattered and milky-eyed. An interesting choice for a dining room.

I brought my attention back down from that ray of sunshine. The table we were headed to was made from a solid piece of gorgeous old wood. A garland composed of various evergreens ran down the center of its length, along with an iron candelabra with spindly arms that sat just above the greenery. Cream and gold candle tapers decorated it from end to end, giving off a comfortable flickering glow. Black earthenware plates were set before gilded chairs. And the eating utensils were also made of the same deep gold. It was pure rustic elegance. Masculine edges with unexpected bits of warmth. Perfect for a warrior prince. I liked it very much.

Wrath angled us toward the center of the table where two larger, more ornate seats were located. Not quite thrones, but close. Unlike what I’d been told of human royal courts, we would not be sitting at opposite ends of the table. We were at its center and everyone else would be fanned out around us. There were two aisles of similar yet smaller wooden tables on either side of the room, creating a path for us to walk down.

These tables didn’t have gold seats; they had matching wooden benches. All of them had an abundance of candles running their length, a fiery centerpiece for the coldest circle of Hell.

Servants I hadn’t noticed lingering near the wall stepped forward, gracefully pulling out our chairs as we made our way around the table. Wrath waited until I sat down before taking his seat. Glasses of dark wine were quickly poured and set before us.

Frozen berries bobbed to the surface, enchanting and tempting. My gaze turned to the prince. I was about to ask why no one else had moved to take their seats, but shut my mouth.

Wrath’s attention was already fixed on me, his eyes nearly glowing in the candlelight.

Everything faded into shadows. It was as if he and I were the only two in the room, the whole realm, and I couldn’t stop my thoughts from returning to their earlier, scandalous vision of him making love to me until I saw stars. Just as the rakish heroes in my favorite romance novels promised to do to the objects of their affection and lust.

Ridiculous realm and its sinful inclinations. Of all the times for it to work its devious magic, now was the absolute worst. Though I wasn’t all that surprised. Wrath mentioned this realm sensing areas of struggle and bringing them to the forefront. I was certainly fighting inner emotions against physical longings.

Until I settled my internal war, I would likely be plagued by these urges.

I tore my focus from Wrath and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, looking to the wine. It would either help distract me or it would turn me into a feral creature, clawing at the prince’s clothes. Thinking of his clothing was a terrible mistake; it quickly led to thoughts of him without a shirt. Blood and bones, this forbidden attraction was growing worse by the minute.

Perhaps I should excuse myself to get fresh air. I glanced around, searching for a balcony or terrace. I needed to cool down immediately. After my royal introduction, there was little doubt that everyone here knew I was promised to his brother. It would hardly seem appropriate for me to be openly lusting over this prince when I was about to marry the king of demons.

Wrath leaned in, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear and I felt him smile. His voice was low enough so only I heard him. “One word and I’ll send them away.”

Temptation flared. “Do I appear that nervous?”

“I’m fairly confident what I’m sensing has nothing to do with nerves.”

A flush crept up my neck. I had no idea he could sense… arousal. Goddess curse me. This realm would be the death of me yet. I forced my thoughts back to the reason I’d come to this world. It had not been seduction or wanting that made me sign my soul away. It was vengeance. Fury. And those emotions were more powerful than any sinful magic.

Or any sinfully alluring prince.

I placed my lips to his ear. “Are you sensing the knife I’m now considering stabbing you with, your highness?”

“If this is an attempt to change the topic, you’re failing miserably.” His hand dropped beneath the table, landing gently on my knee. There was little doubt it was a nonverbal acknowledgment of my most recent lie. “I am even more interested in where this may lead, my lady. You forget what sin I rule over. I am rather fond of a bit of knife-play.”

“Your subjects are staring at us.”

With his free hand, he picked up his wine and took a long, careful sip. He acted as if we were enjoying a drink alone together instead of being observed by the lords and ladies of Hell.

He set the goblet down and stared out at the silent, watchful crowd. “You may be seated.”

I was loath to admit it, even silently, but his touch kept my nerves at bay as the royal court all took their seats. It was hard to concentrate on fear when his long fingers stroked the thin material of my gown, drawing all of my attention to that point of contact. I imagined he was attempting to soothe me, but his touch had the opposite effect. My heart raced.

The cursed prince did not appear affected at all. My attention fell to his lap.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Emilia. You look goddesslike this evening. A true enchantress for the ages.”

Wrath’s hand tensed on my leg, before he slowly continued dragging that finger along the outer seam of my dress. I yanked my gaze from the prince. Directly across the table, standing behind his seat, a fair-haired demon grinned. It was the royal Wrath had glared at earlier. I did not return his smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. You are?”

“Lord Baylor Makaden, my lady.”

It was indeed the demon who’d made crude comments. He sat and immediately began chatting with the lords and ladies to either side of him. More pleasant nobles joined us and trays of food were promptly brought out.

Fileted meats baked in flaky pastry. Roasted root vegetables dressed in herbs. Crusty loaves of bread that smelled of intriguing spices. Serving bowls filled with dark gravy and sauces. None of the food was familiar or reminded me of home, but it wasn’t as different as I’d feared. I’d been secretly harboring worries of strange multi-eyed animals and steaming, raw offal. This was truly a delight.

Wrath removed his hand from my knee only to surprise me with carving the meat and filling my plate with a bit of everything on the table. Other lords and ladies watched from lowered lashes, some bold enough to whisper. I had a feeling this was not typical behavior for the prince. He ignored them, though he no doubt felt their attention and silent speculation.

“Would you care for extra sauce, my lady?” he asked.

I flicked my attention to him, pulse thrumming. He was definitely putting on a show, but I had no idea for whose benefit. Playing along with his scheme, I shook my head. “No, thank you, your highness.”

My use of his title seemed to please him, though I doubted the almost imperceptible curve of his lips was noticeable to anyone else. After he tended to my plate, he heaped generous portions onto his own, then struck up a conversation with the lord to his left.

This was the version I’d expected earlier, the prince with exemplary manners. Not the barbarian who’d kicked in doors. Though both aspects of him were intriguing. Goddess help me. I had no business finding him intriguing or attractive at all.

I politely listened to the noblewoman beside me as she complained of her lady’s maid, then of her sour stomach, and of the bug-eaten tapestry in her receiving hall.

I let her talk freely about all the things that angered her while I ate. Her attention roved over my tattoo, the amulet, and rested on the ring on my finger, but she never asked about them. Thus far no one was straying to any topics of note and I doubted I’d learn much aside from idle gossip. Tonight the court would be on its best behavior.

I wasn’t sure I was pleased but at least the food was worth the trouble. My meat cut like butter and tasted as rich. I did my best to concentrate on conversations and not lose myself in the flavors. Whoever cooked this meal was immensely talented. I’d love to watch them in the kitchen, taking notes. Perhaps I might tinker with my own sauce variations. Add a bit of sea salt and herbs to the flaked pastry to round out the flavors the meat had been marinated with.

Several times I felt an intruding stare and glanced up to find Lord Makaden’s attention fixed on my chest. His hungry expression indicated he wasn’t looking at the amulet. I ignored him as Wrath had done. Worms like him should remain beneath notice. Though that comparison was hardly fair to the poor worms.

The woman next to me, Lady Arcaline, she’d finally informed me, stopped regaling me with her wrath-filled complaints long enough to ask, “Have you met anyone from the court outside of this evening’s dinner?”

“Yes, I met Lady Fauna in the library.”

Lady Arcaline made a dismissive sound and turned to the demon to her other side.

With everything that had happened, I forgot about Fauna. I sipped my wine and looked around the room, surprised to see her chatting with Anir and another young demon at the end of our table. It was too bad they weren’t seated closer; it would have been much more enjoyable.

Before I could reflect on feeling camaraderie with anyone in Wrath’s court, Lord Makaden leaned across the table, boldly ogling my lips. It was an improvement over his not-so-subtle perusal of my cleavage. It was fortunate for him that Wrath was still engaged in a discussion with the lord to his left and hadn’t noticed his crude stare. I was willing to overlook his idiocy in favor of keeping the peace tonight. Tomorrow would be a different story.

I tasted another bite of meat and a bit of the herbed vegetables. They really were divine.

“Indulge me, Lady Emilia.” Makaden’s grating voice drew me away from my meal. “Have you ever experienced something as pleasurable as demon fare before? With each bite, you look as though you’re in the throes of ecstasy. I must admit, it’s captivating. I’m envious of your fork.”

The nobles seated nearest to me kept politely chatting, but I sensed their attention shift to us. It was a leading question, almost skirting the line of propriety. One detail I’d been picking up throughout dinner was that certain topics were as scandalous here as they were in the mortal world. Only the scandal seemed to involve overtly referencing other sins.

I didn’t balk at answering the question.

“Tell me, Lord Makaden, are you always this preoccupied with the mouths of others? Perhaps you should reconsider what House of Sin you align best with.”

He sipped his wine, then ran a finger around its rim, his attention never leaving my lips. The anger I’d been fighting to keep at a low simmer slowly began to boil the longer he stared.

I wondered what sort of impression I’d make on House Wrath if I maimed him before the next course. Given Wrath’s banishment of “guttings at gatherings,” I imagined it had once been a fairly regular occurrence. As the future queen, I might escape any true punishment. Facing Wrath’s ire might be worth it just to wipe that repulsive look from Makaden’s face.

“I’ve been cautioned against speaking of your tongue, my lady, so I won’t comment on its sharpness. However, since you’ve brought mouths up, I can’t help but wonder. You seem to be enjoying the meat well enough, but has that perfect little mouth of yours ever tasted cock?”

My jaw clenched so tightly, I was surprised Wrath didn’t hear the grinding of my teeth. Lord Makaden was not referencing a chicken dish, though his words were clever enough he might pretend otherwise. I slowly exhaled. He was trying to get a rise out of me.

I refused to let him succeed.

“If not, we’ll have to remedy that soon. Tonight, perhaps?” He dipped his finger into the wine, then slowly sucked the liquid off. The wide smile he gave me didn’t reach his hate-filled eyes. I briefly fantasized about popping those beady things from his head. “I’ll even prepare it for you myself. I’ve been told, on more than one occasion, how good mine is.”

My grip tightened on my dinner knife. I wanted nothing more than to shove it into his heart. Without giving much thought to the consequences, I lifted the blade and stood, my beautiful chair scratching along the stone in shrill warning.

The room drew in a collective gasp. It was the last sound that was made before Lord Makaden’s garbled screaming began. Warm liquid sprayed across my chest and face. I was so startled, I dropped the knife and wiped at my cheeks. My fingers were coated in red liquid.

A second later the metallic scent hit my throat. Blood. Blood was now splattered across the evergreen garland on the table, across me. My attention fell to the source of gore.

On the place set before the vile lord sat a severed, impaled tongue.

I stared down at my dinner knife, unblinking, unsure if I’d attacked him. Then I noticed Wrath’s House dagger. It still vibrated from the force he’d used to shove it through the plate and then that far into the table. I let out a quiet breath, unable to look away. The lavender gemstones in the snake’s eyes glowed in fury. Or maybe bloodlust.

I’d forgotten how the dagger gloried in its offerings.

“Dinner is over,” the demon prince declared, his voice dangerously low. He yanked his bloodied blade free. “Get out.”

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