Текст книги "Throne of the Fallen"

Автор книги: Kerri Maniscalcol

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

TWENTY-NINE

AFTER YOU, MISS Antonius.”

Envy held the giant spruce branch back, fully revealing the tiny cottage he’d hidden beneath the giant evergreen the last time he’d brought a mortal woman into his realm.

He didn’t like to think of that, of her, so he focused instead on his handiwork—though cottage was a generous term for the little cabin he’d made by hacking away at trees, fusing them together with bits of magic. Nothing too intense, nothing that would anger the Corridor. If he’d been able to conjure the building entirely, he would have done so. Alas, he’d rolled up his sleeves and had gotten to work.

Envy supposed he still felt some small sense of accomplishment.

Camilla seemed startled at first, but now looked the structure over with interest, just as she’d done with every inch of the Sin Corridor today. He hadn’t known this blasted place to inspire such amazement or intrigue before; Camilla had surprised him with her enthusiasm for its arctic depths.

And even more surprising, thus far she’d seemed to avoid most influence, furthering his growing suspicion that she was keeping a secret. But Envy knew that when sleep eventually pulled her under, Camilla would succumb to the wicked realm. No being—not even the strongest vampires, shape-shifters, or Fae—could withstand the seductive pull of the Sin Corridor.

And that was without the physical attraction already sizzling between them.

He’d kept his connection to her senses open, ensuring that he’d know if she felt distressed or fearful at any point along their journey. If something attacked, he wanted to know immediately.

When they first arrived, she’d been burning with anger that he’d brought her without warning. What he’d neglected to admit was that he’d waited until he sensed her readiness, long before she’d formally given him an answer.

The true surprise came as she trudged through the storm behind him.

He’d felt a tingle of fear that had quickly turned to excitement. When her arousal slammed into him next, he’d nearly lost his footing. He’d glanced over his shoulder, and her gaze had raked over him from head to toe, carnal and untamed. He’d strained to feel any indication that she was being tested for lust, but he didn’t think so. What she’d felt had been her own emotions. He wasn’t sure she’d been aware of it. But he couldn’t forget.

And now they were about to be trapped for hours, alone in the cabin with one large issue.

Envy reached past her and yanked the frozen knob until it twisted free, the small door popping open with a loud crack as its coat of ice shattered. The shards sparkled atop the snow like broken glass.

Camilla gave him a look, then stepped inside. Just past the doorway, she paused.

He knew why.

They were going to be very cozy tonight.

The tiny one-room cabin was dark and windowless, the square space taken up almost entirely by one large bed. And by bed Envy meant the thick layers of pine boughs he’d braided into a lush platform.

The “bed” was pressed against the far wall, leaving only a small path for him to open the door fully.

The air was stale but laced with the warmth of the pine. They’d be warm and safe from the elements. Hours had passed, and even if she wasn’t tired yet, Camilla needed to sleep before the worst of the storm hit.

Envy gently nudged her forward.

She dug her heels in.

“There’s barely enough room for the bed.”

What she avoided mentioning was the fact that they’d practically have to lie curled around each other to fit upon it. A fact he’d been partly dreading, partly anticipating.

It was going to be his own sort of personal hell to have Camilla pressed against him while experiencing the sensation of sins.

“Apologies for the less-than-stellar accommodations, Your Highness,” he mocked softly. “Next time we travel through the Corridor, I’ll make sure to add another wing to the cabin.”

She called him a gloriously filthy name under her breath but let him step past her, swirling his cloak from his shoulders and spreading it over the bed of boughs, like a sheet of sorts. He gestured that Camilla could lie down, which she did with a glare, crawling onto the mattress and testing its stability before moving to the far side. Envy closed the door behind him, making sure it caught firmly in its frame, and then climbed atop the mattress at her side.

Her warmth enveloped him almost instantly, her scent filling the space between them until all he could think of was how much he envied her perfume for touching her skin when he couldn’t.

“Will we travel directly to House Sloth?” she asked. “Once we’re… done here?”

“Yes,” he said. “We’ll travel a bit farther to please the Corridor, then I’ll transvenio us to my brother’s circle as soon as I can. We should arrive by midmorning.”

“Transvenio,” she repeated quietly. “According to my father’s stories, that’s how demon princes travel between realms. Like shifting from one reality to the next. Which is how we arrived at the gates earlier. Correct?”

“Indeed.”

“Won’t we see your court first?”

He swallowed tightly. “There’s no time for a visit.”

He supposed he should send a missive to Sloth first before showing up unannounced, but to do so he’d need to stop at his House and await the royal admittance to the rival court, which meant Camilla would see the crumbling kingdom firsthand. Even if he brought her to his royal cottage on the outskirts of his grounds, too much could go wrong. Sloth would likely take his time responding, and that was the one thing Envy could not risk now: wasting any more time.

He allowed himself a brief fantasy of a different story unfolding. Of his House being robust, filled with life and art, and demons who collected all manner of objects and items to inspire his sin in their circle mates.

Envy wanted to see Camilla’s gaze sweep over everything when it was as glimmering and wondrous as it used to be. He wanted to know if she’d like his House, his galleries, his curiosities. His bedchamber.

And that was dangerous.

He shouldn’t want any of it.

She was quiet for a few moments.

“You said you’re playing a game… that’s what all of this is for. What’s at stake?”

Everything, he thought. “An artifact I covet,” he finally said. It was true enough.

“You’re doing all this for an artifact?” she asked. “It must be very important.”

He stared at the wooden ceiling, his jaw tight. They were getting too close to discussing his greatest mistake, especially here, where he’d once brought her.

Camilla rolled over to face him, but he didn’t look back at her. He couldn’t.

“Take off your cloak,” he said instead. When he sensed her surprise, he finally looked over and gestured at their exposed bodies. “We’ll use it as a blanket.”

Camilla gave him a long, silent once-over, but she did as he asked, and he helped her to wrap the edges of the garment around them. As a final act of chivalry, he pulled off his waistcoat, bundling it up to form a pillow he placed under her head.

As she settled back, even more snugly situated against his side, Envy decided to count backward from one thousand, focusing on his end goal.

He hated Lennox and his royal Unseelie Fae. Hated them beyond anything he’d hated before. He would not only see his court restored but would see Lennox’s Unseelie court obliterated in return. He’d toy with them all as Lennox had with him.

“Envy?” Camilla whispered, breaking his focus. He felt her stir under the cloak, and then a warmed finger emerged, which she reached over to run along his jaw.

He’d been gnashing his teeth.

He forced himself to relax.

“How many other players do you think there are? In this game?” she asked, removing her hand.

“Depends on how many others the game master has wronged. Could be five, or twenty. Or just down to two or three, by now.”

“What happens to the players who don’t solve their clues?”

“Their fate is decided by the game master. He can choose to let them leave peacefully, or he can kill them. Their lives are his from the moment they sign the blood oath.”

Camilla’s breath hitched. He finally dropped his attention to her. She was biting her lip, her expression pinched. He wanted to smooth the line between her brows but didn’t. No good would come from such tenderness.

“What if they don’t sign a blood oath? At the start?”

She looked worried, but he wasn’t sure why.

“As far as I know, everyone who plays has signed the oath. It’s what allows the game master to enforce the rules.”

“What do you think we’re looking for next?” she asked, rolling back over to look up at the ceiling now. “The riddle didn’t give us a real clue.”

He liked that she considered them a team.

Too much.

“My brother is quite the collector, and House Sloth is filled with books and artifacts. I imagine we’ll find the next clue in one of his libraries. We’ll just have to look for something that doesn’t belong.”

She rolled over to face him again, her expression wary.

“And this game master… I’ve heard the Fae play games. The Unseelie King in particular.”

Clever woman.

He debated indulging her again but couldn’t see the harm in admitting she was correct.

“They do. Lennox, the Unseelie King, is the game master.”

Camilla grew silent. He wondered what stories she’d heard of the Unseelie King. Wondered if she knew just how dangerous he was when he wanted something.

Envy suddenly did not want her getting tangled up in all that. “Sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Camilla had spun over to lie on her other side, and now she went still. He’d tried to respect her boundaries, ignoring his eagerness to spy on her feelings in this close space, but he couldn’t help himself—he opened that channel between them again, and clearly detected her irritation.

“You must be surrounded by demons who kiss your royal ass often,” she said suddenly, and he flinched. “Not everyone enjoys being ordered around.”

Gods’ bones. The woman drove him mad. Perhaps it was time to return the favor again, have a bit of fun before the search was back on.

“Normally, they’re kissing my cock.” Envy smiled as her jealousy swept through the cabin. “And they enjoy it very much when I order them around.”

She kept her back to him, pretending he no longer existed.

Her jealousy gave him something to focus on, something to enjoy. He didn’t like being back in this space, not after all that had happened. He couldn’t help but taunt her a little, to remind himself how different this situation was.

“In fact, I give all sorts of orders,” he said, shifting to stare at the ceiling, hands behind his head. “Some you might recall. Take off your clothes. Lie down. Spread your thighs.” He paused, and then said slowly, “Come for me.”

She swallowed audibly, her energy now tinged with arousal. Envy knew she was recalling that recent night in vivid detail.

“A good lover gives me orders too, pet. Would you like some examples?”

She cursed over her shoulder, telling him exactly where he could go. He rolled to the side again, facing her back, and dropped his voice into a seductive growl.

“Fuck me harder, deeper, faster. There. Don’t stop.” He was entirely too pleased by her sharp intake of breath. “I play along, Camilla, good and obedient for a time.”

“I am completely uninterested in your conquests, Your Highness.”

“Mm.” He knew that was true without using his senses. But he also knew she perversely enjoyed thinking about him doing each of those things to her.

Realizing that he himself was more affected than he’d intended, he allowed silence to fall between them once more, trying to ignore the warm curve of her backside just inches away.

At first, he sensed her disappointment—she liked playing games, he realized—but then her exhaustion finally kicked in. He hoped she would sleep well now and put aside new worries about Lennox and his treacherous game. Sure enough, Camilla’s breath finally turned slow and even. Sleep fell over her like a blanket of freshly fallen snow.

He waited until she’d been asleep for some time before stealing another glimpse. She lay curled on her side, the cloak tucked up firmly beneath her pointed chin.

Sleep didn’t come for Envy; he doubted it would, and anyway, he’d prefer to stay alert. Few creatures in this forest would dare intrude upon him, but still, the game was afoot. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she suddenly rolled back over, toward him, slowly clutching at the cloak, as if trying not to tumble into a dream.

Silver hair fanned around her in a halo, giving her the look of an angel.

Her lashes were long and dark, resting in little half-moons on her golden cheeks.

She looked peaceful, completely at ease. Like the male next to her was some kind of knight, and not a wicked prince.

Envy couldn’t recall a time anyone had laid themselves so bare before him.

He slowly reached over, pushing a loose curl behind Camilla’s delicate ear. Her lips parted, a contented sigh slipping through. She was deep within sleep now, fully relaxed. He thought to envy her such peace, but somehow, he couldn’t.

He knew the Sin Corridor would show her no mercy now.

Envy rolled onto his back again, gaze fixed to the ceiling.

His whole body was tensed, waiting.

He tried to focus on what the next clue might be. Solving the riddles and winning the game should be the only worry in his head. And yet… the more he considered Lennox insisting that Camilla accompany him, the more he hated that she was here.

He should have left her in Waverly Green.

If he’d been a better male, he would have. Consequences be damned.

Camilla’s breath shifted, broken by a slight catch.

He swallowed thickly.

And so the long night began.

Now her even breathing turned into little gasps of continual pleasure. His hands curled into fists as they merged into soft moans.

Envy tried to focus on the sleet outside, the howling winds knocking the door against its frame. Anything to avoid thinking of when he’d been between her legs, eliciting those same sounds. One taste of her had been dangerous—it hadn’t remotely sated him.

As if in response, she thrashed against her cloak, rolling to face away from him, in the process exposing her neck. With a soft murmur, she seemed to draw closer to his warmth, her hips rolling until her plump little bottom found his side, where she rubbed against his hip, seeking friction.

She was undoubtedly being tested for lust.

Envy locked his attention on the damn ceiling, attempted to count the grains in the wood. Camilla was stirring again, her hands coursing up her body. Despite being buried below her cloak, he could feel their path as if it were his own. First they were sliding over her hips, pausing atop her quivering stomach, then up onto her breasts, where her fingers cupped her generous curves, no doubt finding pleasure in their tempting give as she squeezed.

Selfishly, he hoped she was seeing him in her sin-fueled dreams.

Recalling how it had felt as he made her come.

Despite his best efforts to be a gentleman, Envy’s cock stiffened.

What he wouldn’t give to push her thighs apart and sink into her, to slam their hips together until they shattered apart. He couldn’t be tested by the Sin Corridor, but in that moment, he’d almost swear he was.

Envy brought a fist to his mouth and bit down hard, but the pain only focused his desire for pleasure.

Camilla was kicking off her cloak now and reaching down, drawing her skirts up, showing off supple skin contained only by silk stockings, made for worshipping.

He could no longer help himself. He watched, rapt, as she circled her hips, lifting them, lost in her phantom lover’s caress. The soft exhale of her breath tangled with the rustling of her skirts, the scent of pine released from their bed with every movement. As if against his will, he felt his hand closing over his erection, stroking atop his trousers in a matching rhythm.

Camilla slowly opened her eyes and, to his surprise, stared straight at him. Seeing his own arousal, she pushed herself up to her knees, maneuvering gracefully as she straddled him, skirts billowing down as she braced her hands on his shoulders. Above her stockings her thighs were bare, and he could feel their smoothness where they tightened against his hips.

“Camilla,” he warned, suddenly alert. “Wake up.”

She smiled at him below her heavy eyelids, the most wonderfully devious, wicked curve he’d ever seen.

“Who says I’m asleep, Your Highness?”

THIRTY

PERHAPS IT WAS a bit wicked, but Camilla was having entirely too much fun torturing the prince lying stiffly beneath her.

He deserved to be toyed with after his lies and trickery. And especially after that stunt to make her jealous. It took her a few moments to realize what he’d been up to; she’d been thoroughly focused on trying and failing not to envy his previous lovers.

Once she pieced together his little game, she was irritated with herself for playing into it. He’d had entirely too much fun, stoking her envy, trying to whisper things to shock and tantalize, to build anticipation and need.

Camilla had been shocked, all right, shocked by how damp the area between her thighs had become at the mere thought of his rakish orders.

So when she had felt the testing tingle of lust, she’d decided to make the most of it. If Envy wanted a show, she’d give him one.

The sin’s influence had long since receded, something she was surprised Envy hadn’t even considered.

Although, feeling his full response to her, she’d almost forgotten this was supposed to be a cheeky repayment. His thick length was pressing against her, so hard and tempting it was difficult to remember where the boundaries of her playacting fell.

If there were any left at all.

She wondered how far they both might go, pretending neither was aware that the Sin Corridor wasn’t responsible for their actions.

Another wicked game.

Her hands drifted back up along her sides, teasing the undersides of her breasts before circling the tight buds at their centers. Her bodice felt tight, constricting, and she could feel her flesh pushing against her neckline, threatening to spill over with her heaving breath.

She lifted herself up, then slowly moved down his body, getting lost in the sensation, the sheer power of him coiled tightly beneath her.

All that raw masculinity, all that animal grace, practically vibrating with barely leashed desire.

This might have started as a game, but she wasn’t pretending to be aroused.

A strangled sound jerked her attention back to the prince, and she glanced down to see Envy’s gaze locked on her, a tortured expression on his face.

He grasped her hips, strong fingers splayed around them, like he couldn’t decide if he should help grind her against him or lift her off completely.

Camilla boldly looked him over, pleased he was still so… affected by her show.

“Camilla.”

Her lips curved. His voice was low and slightly hoarse.

She imagined there weren’t too many people who’d ever turned the Prince of Envy’s own game against him.

“Would you like to know what I was just recalling, Your Highness?” she asked, circling her hips again, writhing up along that glorious length.

“No.”

Liar, she thought.

“The night at Vexley’s, when we fell off the mattress and landed, like this? For a moment, I had wondered what you’d do if I leaned down.” She did so now, her lips hovering so close to his she felt his sharp intake of breath. “I wanted to see if you tasted as sinful as I hoped.”

His throat bobbed and she lightly traced the outline of his mouth with her tongue. It was the shape of fantasies—full and seductive and made for kissing.

“Should I have? Tasted you that night,” she whispered, bringing her mouth to his ear, noticing the trail of goose bumps rising along his flesh.

She didn’t think he was breathing anymore. He looked pained.

Tension wound between them, so taut she wanted to pluck it like a string.

“I want you to answer two questions truthfully, Your Highness. Will you do that? For me?”

His gaze fixed to her face, scanned her eyes, then fell to her lips. His nod was a slight incline of his head, barely noticeable.

“Did you like the way I tasted?” she asked silkily.

He cursed, his grip on her hips tightening, his self-control slipping.

“Yes,” he gritted out.

“Do you think about it?”

She sank into him, hitting a spot that made them both suck in their breath. Camilla realized she needed to be careful. Her body throbbed against his.

Envy hadn’t answered her question. She leaned down, nipping at his lip.

“You promised to answer.”

“Yes. I fucking think about it.” He gave a tortured laugh. “Constantly.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” Abruptly, she pushed herself up, slinging her leg back over to settle peacefully on the bed next to him again. She gave him a victorious smile as she tidied her cloak around her, readying for sleep. “May your dreams be as wondrously sinful as your tongue, Your Highness.”

Envy’s teeth ground together, his jaw tight enough to cut stone.

Camilla thrilled, just a little, as she added, “And in the spirit of honesty, you should know, I might think about it too.”

Morning arrived with another mighty storm.

As Camilla stretched and rose, she felt tired but ready to see what more this realm would bring her.

The prince didn’t offer much in the way of conversation as he donned his cloak and broke through the fresh frost on the cabin’s door. He seemed to be wound more tightly than usual. Whether it was because of their little temptation game the night before, or because his mind was on his true game, she couldn’t tell.

They trudged through the endless snow, the landscape losing some of its appeal the colder and wetter and hungrier she got. After a few hours of endless walking, he finally paused.

“All right. We’ve gone far enough to satisfy the Corridor.” He held out his hand. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, and without uttering another word, he magicked them away. Camilla felt the power of the air whooshing around them and opened her eyes to find an enormous stone castle ahead, nestled at the top of an impressively jagged mountain.

She spun in a circle, drinking in the castle, the mountains—bruised smudges of navy and white stretching far into the distance—and the mist that had descended like a funeral shroud.

Unless Envy had changed his mind about their plan, they were on the front lawn of House Sloth.

Envy strode up the wide stone stairs powdered with fresh snow, heading straight for the arched double doors at the top, tucked into an alcove flanked by two grand columns.

Camilla, too, trudged up until, unable to help herself, she stopped before the first column, admiring the intricate flora and fauna carved into what appeared to be limestone—or whatever the demon equivalent was. Whoever had done the work was exceptional: there was not a single chisel mark, no sign at all that the stone hadn’t sprung forth already carved.

She peered closer. The scene depicted was whimsical yet dark: flowers shifting to become weapons and animals seemly engaged in battle.

Camilla understood. Nature was a violent mistress, her beauty a mask to hide her cruelty.

Camilla slowly circled the column, pausing on the most fascinating scene yet. A scorpion, vulture, and ibis, all dancing around a sphere. More animals and geometric shapes were spread throughout, but this grouping seemed different.

She laid her hand on the cold stone in reverence, wondering if magic had been involved in its creation.

Envy paused, glancing over his shoulder, his expression inscrutable.

“Stay there, Miss Antonius. No matter what.”

The fine hair along her arms stood on end and she instantly became more alert.

He hadn’t asked her to wait, there was steel in his command.

Now the carvings didn’t seem so much enchanting as ominous.

“Is this not your brother’s estate?”

Envy’s hand flexed toward his right side, to the place where she knew he hid his dagger.

“In this realm it’s considered an act of war if a prince shows up in another’s circle uninvited.”

“Yet you continue to waltz in, brother.”

Before he could turn back around, the point of a blade erupted from Envy’s chest.

It happened so fast Camilla’s scream was ripped from her throat at the exact moment the blade was yanked back out of the prince.

Envy dropped to his knees, his expression one of cold fury as gold blood spurted from the wound, splattering brutally across the snowy steps.

“Touch her”—his voice was laced with malice, even as it faded to a mere whisper—“and I’ll annihilate you all.”

Even bleeding as horrendously as he was, Camilla felt the promise in his words.

Keeping one eye on his attacker, Camilla rushed to the fallen prince’s side, but as she dropped before him, Envy vanished.

She frantically patted the ground where’d he’d been—had he been cloaked by some invisible force? But he was truly gone. Only a small pool of blood remained carved into the snow, its color a harsh reminder that he was Other.

She glanced up at Envy’s killer, taking stock of what she might use to defend herself, quieting the voice that said she’d never stand a chance against him. She’d have to try.

His hair was a unique shade caught between silver and gold, his eyes the palest shade of blue she’d ever seen. They were like two diamonds gazing back at her, hard and cold. Utterly without emotion.

The demon was studying her closely too.

After an uncomfortably long stretch of silence, he slowly returned his dagger to its sheath. He’d said Envy was his brother, so…

“You must be the Prince of Sloth.”

He gave an insolent half bow, then said smugly, “He had that coming for a good century.”

“You murdered him.” Camilla couldn’t believe how cavalier the man was!

Amusement warmed those icy eyes a fraction.

“I assure you, he’s only been sent back to his circle. He will probably return by nightfall, fully healed, but this time he’ll have the decency to send a missive first. Come. Miss Antonius, was it?”

Camilla nodded, weighing whether she should believe him, but Sloth turned, giving her his back.

In his mind Camilla clearly posed no threat. She supposed she could use that to her advantage, if needed.

“Welcome to House Sloth.”