Текст книги "Throne of the Fallen"

Автор книги: Kerri Maniscalcol

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

“What is the Orb of Golath?” she asked again.

“Golath is known as the Fear Collector, an ancient being often thought to have possessed the first spark of evil,” Envy said, still standing guard over the ball. “No one knows how many orbs are in existence, but they open doors even we demon princes fear to pass through. That one is here indicates we need to seek Golath next. He gifts them when he has a message. Or when he has a fear to collect.”

The Fear Collector.

Of course, the next clue had to be some ancient evil. Why not the Wish Granter? The Dream Weaver?

And she’d been the one marked to find this clue.

Envy’s attention remained locked on the orb, his expression set in hard lines as he concentrated. He’d dispatched the Hexed Throne with barely any effort, so to see him taking such care was anything but comforting.

“Are you ready to break it?” Lo asked, looking up from the containment circle.

The Prince of Envy took a step toward the orb, then glanced over at Camilla.

“Stand as far from the circle as you can, Miss Antonius.”

She moved to the far corner of the room where the two assistant demons were crouched, books clutched to their chests. They’d likely been intrigued by the hunt for information, the excitement of finding a clue. Judging from the way they trembled, they hadn’t expected things to get so dangerous. An oversized desk sat between them and the circle, which didn’t seem like much protection at all.

Lo and Envy exchanged long looks, their conversation silent before Lo inclined his head, agreeing to whatever his brother had asked.

Without looking at Camilla again, Envy finally grabbed the orb.

He walked straight into the chalk circle, gave his brother one last hard look, then shattered it at his feet.

Camilla inhaled sharply.

A mammoth, nearly incorporeal creature reared up. It had the head of a goat and the body of a muscular man. Its horizontal irises landed on Camilla, taking her in.

It remained silent, cocking its head, its gaze never straying from where she stood.

“Golath.” Envy’s voice carved through the tension building in the room. “Where are you?”

“What are you, when are you, these are more interesting queries.”

The creature didn’t remove its dark gaze from Camilla. A forked tongue shot out between its overlarge teeth.

She remained very still, willing it to look elsewhere.

“Golath,” Envy warned.

“You know where I am, Prince Envy. Below. Far below. Beneath the place where the tombs burn and the ground withers. Come find me if you dare. Bring the silver-haired one. I do so enjoy gifts.”

The Fear Collector spun its nearly incorporeal body like a cyclone and disappeared into the circle, vanishing the shattered orb with it.

A heavy silence fell. Envy remained where he was, attention fixed to the floor, as if waiting for the creature to spring back and attack. But once it became clear it wasn’t returning, he stared directly at Camilla.

His expression was carefully blank. Lo didn’t look at her at all. Nor did the other two demons.

Unease clawed at her. She did not want to be that creature’s gift.

“Grab your cloak,” Envy said to her softly. “We’re traveling below the flaming tombs. The fire that burns there produces ice, not heat. Making survival… unpleasant.”

“No.”

The only one who didn’t seem surprised by her refusal was Envy.

He expelled a frustrated sigh.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t a negotiation, Miss Antonius. If the decision were up to me, you’d remain here. Better yet, I’d deposit you back in Waverly Green. Since we are both without choice in the matter, grab your cloak.”

Camilla’s attention slid to the others in the room. She did not want to debate in front of them.

“Sloth, a moment of privacy, please?” Envy said, surprising her.

Once the other demons had left, Envy pulled her against his chest.

“Let’s play a little game of truth, Miss Antonius.”

She nestled against him, nodding.

“I won’t permit anything to hurt you. True?”

“Yes. But—”

“There is no but, pet. Nothing will harm you.” He smoothed a hand down her spine. “Do you trust me?”

She laughed, pushing back from his embrace. “Not at all.”

He gave her a wolfish grin. Then seriousness entered his features. He pulled a small dagger from inside his suit. It was silver like her eyes, its sheath carved beautifully.

She hesitated for only a second before taking it. It wasn’t made of iron, but it wasn’t any metal she was familiar with either.

Envy tucked her hair behind her ears, then stepped back.

“You can trust me with your life, Camilla. That is something precious. Something I’d never play with. No matter what game is happening. Truth?”

Camilla held his gaze for a long moment, then went to fetch her cloak.

The tunnel below House Sloth was exactly what one should expect from an underground labyrinth deep within the bowels of the Underworld, home to creatures so terrible they do not seek the light.

Walls of frost-coated stone had been carved out to form the tunnel, the passage narrow enough that Camilla’s shoulder brushed against the prince’s as they walked silently.

Envy had had Sloth enchant her cloak so it regulated the temperature, ensuring that she wouldn’t freeze to death, but the air was still brutal on her face. He carried a flameless torch, which didn’t burn but provided enough light for them to see.

In many places the stone walls were gouged by claws, splattered with what had probably once been blood. There weren’t any bones or skeletons—Camilla got the impression that whatever dwelled this far into the realm didn’t leave such delicacies behind.

Occasionally they heard screams in the distance.

Once, when a yowl so terrible it made her shiver rent the air, Envy held a finger to his lips and grabbed her hand, pulling her down another winding passage, not slowing his grueling pace until the infernal wailing was a distant nightmare ringing in her ears.

He hadn’t let go of her after that.

The closer they got to the land below what Envy had called the flaming tombs, the colder it got, like the world itself was warning travelers away.

Camilla had thought it couldn’t get any worse, and it proved her wrong. If it hadn’t been for the magic cloak, she would have frozen.

Her eyes stung, tears freezing on her cheeks. Panic made her want to cry harder.

Will my eyes freeze shut?

Envy abruptly pulled her in front of him, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. Her skin heated immediately, warming from his magicked touch.

“Breathe, Miss Antonius. The tunnel is meant to induce fear. Golath feeds on it.”

Another less-than-comforting thought.

He waited until she found her calm center; a feat that was more difficult than she’d have imagined.

She nodded after another moment and they continued on, Camilla feeling marginally better.

Finally, after another long descent into an abyss, Envy stopped. He kept his hand wrapped around hers, his grip unyielding.

“Golath.” Envy’s voice had been low, but it rumbled along the darkness.

Her heartbeat quickened again as the creature appeared from the shadows, peering at them curiously.

Camilla simultaneously couldn’t take her attention from it and never wanted to look upon it again. Here, where it chose to live, it was no longer nearly incorporeal. It was fully flesh and bone, its goatlike eyes glowing a sickly yellow in the dark.

Camilla couldn’t make out much more than its horns, and that was only because of the light given off by its eyes. She couldn’t see its mouth but sensed its smile.

“Interesting companions make for interesting stories. Come closer, curious mistress.”

Its voice was deep, elemental. Different from that of the Hexed Throne, but somehow similar.

Camilla held her ground—she was not prey, no matter how much this tunnel wanted her to believe that—and the creature moved closer.

“Ah. What a tale there is to tell.” Its yellow eyes flicked to Envy. “Master of secrets, prince of the dark, how peculiar to find yourself trapped in it. Moons are such chaotic things. Inconstant, flickering. As is new blood.”

Envy tensed.

“What information do you have about the game?”

“What are games but opportunities to either boast of victory or taste defeat? Have you not already won?” The Fear Collector’s gaze flared. “Proceed with caution, for there’s much to lose.”

Envy’s grip on her tightened, but she sensed it had more to do with frustration than anything else.

“Speak plainly. Or is this a riddle I need to solve?”

The Fear Collector watched Camilla with slitted eyes.

“There are many riddles, many games, many players. If an ice prince falls, will a crimson one rise? I suppose that depends on who does the slaying. Blood must spill.”

It slunk back into the shadows.

Envy swore. “We’re not done.”

“Curious are those who hide in plain sight. Beware, young prince. There are many slithering, venomous snakes in this sultry garden. Deception is the most wicked game of all.”

Suddenly a name popped into Camilla’s head—Prometheus—as if the Fear Collector had placed it there for her, bright and bursting on her tongue like a ripened strawberry.

She wanted to spit the name out, shout it into the void, but clamped her teeth together.

If the Fear Collector wanted her to do something in its presence, she would hold off for as long as possible.

She wondered if he’d done the same to the prince but refused to ask until they were above ground again.

“Is that it?” Envy asked.

“Memories, like hearts, can be stolen. My whispers echo through shadows, across realms, across times and dimensions, following and finding those who need to hear them. You never heed the warning, young prince. Will you now?”

With a troubled look, Envy ushered them back down the tunnel, away from the Fear Collector, and didn’t once turn back.

THIRTY-EIGHT

THE UNDERGROUND SPIT them out near the edge of Bloodwood Forest, an area not far from the border of Envy’s circle where using magic was forbidden.

He cursed the Fear Collector for the parting gift. Envy had planned on retracing their steps, but the ancient being clearly sought amusement and had deposited them where Envy couldn’t easily return to his court. It wasn’t lost on him that another player was rumored to have visited this forest two nights before. Maybe he’d find some trace of them.

Once they safely reached his domain, he’d magic them to a private cottage near his House, where he could think without interruption.

Envy strode ahead of Camilla, wondering once again what secrets the artist was harboring and how they might possibly fit into his game. He wasn’t one who usually found himself in the dark. And he didn’t care for this growing mystery.

It was one thing for Sloth to be suspicious—he was wary of everyone he met until he’d fully investigated them from conception to birth to present day—but for the Fear Collector to sense something… his warning had been clear. Camilla was hiding something.

Variables and unknowns were a sure way to lose. And losing wasn’t an option.

No matter how passionate Camilla had been delivering her little speech about leaving the past behind, some scars shaped the future. Envy had made a mistake. A mistake he couldn’t forgive himself for. His entire court was suffering the consequences, and he needed to make it right.

He held his loathing for the Unseelie royalty tightly in his grasp, never forgetting the role they’d played. It was a concept she wouldn’t understand; her life was a mere flicker in time.

Until she’d lost and let others down and felt the weight of responsibility press onto her shoulders, she couldn’t lecture him on only seeking sunshine and completely forgetting that the world also needed rain to thrive.

Darkness was never as appealing as the light to most, but that didn’t mean it was any less integral to life. Too much sunshine withered the soul.

Balance was the key.

“Who is Prometheus? Is it the actual Titan of myth?”

Her question drew him up short.

Had she understood what the Fear Collector had rambled on about in that circuitous way of his?

Envy held a finger to his mouth and glanced around the empty path, listening carefully. The woods were quiet, save for the gusting winds, whining and howling through the bare branches like scared mutts.

They were almost to his domain, where he could use his magic without issue.

“Do not say his true name aloud again.” Envy’s hand was on his dagger, his attention sweeping the woods again. “The vampire prince and his spies are always listening.”

Camilla’s face paled.

“I thought his name was Zarus.”

Envy’s eyes narrowed.

“For a mortal who’s never been to the Underworld, you know a lot of interesting information.”

“I think the Fear Collector planted the name in my head,” she said defensively. He didn’t have time to wonder about that oddity before she added tartly, “And the second was because my father had a lot of tales to share.”

Envy’s grip on his patience snapped. “Ah, yes. The man who was so obsessed with realm lines that he built a secret tunnel on top of one. Tell me, Camilla, why was your father desperately trying to find a way into Faerie? Or was he looking for certain shifter realms?”

Camilla’s mouth pressed into a straight line, her gaze darting away.

She remained silent.

“The woman in that painting didn’t happen to be the queen, did she?” he asked. “And I do not mean the mortal monarch. I know for a fact that Prim Róis likens herself to Eve. Strange that the painting was named for Evelyn. Perhaps your father had an affair with the Unseelie queen?”

If her mother had been a shifter, she would have despised the affair even more. Shifters and Fae mixed as well as oil and water.

Camilla’s steely gaze clashed with his; he’d struck a nerve.

His smile was as sharp as his words had been, but he needed to push her until that hard wall she’d erected broke. It was high time he knew what he was dealing with.

Lennox wanted her to accompany him to the Underworld.

The Fear Collector had given her the next clue.

He wanted to know why. Why her. With her rare talent. With her expansive knowledge of his realm. With her ability to withstand most demonic influence.

Who was Miss Camilla Antonius?

He was damn well going to find out.

No more waiting, no more games. If he had to be ruthless, so be it.

Envy took a step toward her, impressed she didn’t retreat. Males twice her size would cower before a Prince of Hell.

“My spies have unearthed lots of curious information on your father.”

Camilla froze.

“You spied on us?”

She’d spit the question out like it tasted foul.

He inclined his head. Envy didn’t like sparking emotions tied to his brother’s sin, but the angrier Camilla got, the less likely she was to hold on to all her secrets.

“What are you, Camilla? Immortal? Halfling? Or just a deviously talented human liar?”

Fury laced her tone.

“What other absurd theories would you like to add, Your Highness? A lioness? An eagle? I know,” she mocked, “maybe I’m a dire wolf.”

“Why do you intrigue so many dark beings, Camilla, if that’s even your true name? What do they sense that my brothers and I cannot? Why are you a necessary piece to the game? Lennox chose you. Why?”

Her expression shuttered completely.

And something inside him went feral.

He stalked closer, needing to know what she was hiding, needing to know her.

This little game had reached an end.

His sin lashed out. There was a wall between him and her will and he barreled into it, driving his power at it over and over, envisioning it like a wall of ice.

Nearly impenetrable until he made a tiny crack.

A tiny fissure was all he needed for his sin to finally burst through.

Camilla responded to envy, he’d seen it before. Envy projected images into her mind, both to fuel his power while he drained himself and to entice her true emotions to surface.

He pictured the Goddess of Death, when she’d fucked his second in front of him. Her ancient lavender eyes had locked on Envy, attempting in vain to stoke his sin.

At once, both he and Camilla were in that memory together, reliving his thoughts beat by beat as Camilla watched, confused, through his mind.

His focus traveled over her gown, obviously chosen with this tableau in mind. Vittoria always was the theatrical twin; it was a wonder she and Emilia had ever convinced his brothers—and the whole realm—that they were one entity all those years ago.

Vittoria’s dress was nothing more than two swaths of lavender material that covered her breasts, then gathered at the middle before pooling to the floor. Long sections of bronze skin flashed with each of her movements.

Envy kept his emotions from that night away from Camilla, only showing her the goddess as Vittoria watched him, her desire for him bleeding through his memories, funneling straight into Camilla.

He neglected to reveal that he hadn’t been aroused and never would be by Vittoria.

He recalled more of that encounter, how his second’s hands had roamed the goddess’s body, how her low moans had started; he stoked Camilla’s jealousy until he was nearly drunk on it. He could sense her pushing back at his mental grip, shoving and trying to force her way out, but it was working. Camilla was wild with envy.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said to Vittoria in the memory. “Quite literally.”

“And I do so love the burn.” Vittoria spun in Alexei’s arms, pressing her backside against his groin, and slowly gyrated. From this new position, she could watch Envy while she worked the vampire into a lust-fueled frenzy. A task she’d already completed if Alexei’s curses and moans were any indication.

“If you’re trying to stoke my sin,” Envy drawled, “you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Oh, Envy. If I wished to stroke your sin, I would.” Vittoria’s hand slipped inside the vampire’s trousers, her fist pumping in a steady rhythm as he groaned. “You’re welcome to watch. Or join…”

Camilla was nearly feral in his mind, clawing the memory to shreds.

Her jealousy was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, it was a deep chasm inside her, seemingly endless. She’d been keeping her emotions locked away inside.

And he’d only just begun to discover how deep that well went.

One moment he had her in his mind; then suddenly, without any warning, Camilla pushed a memory into him. She’d chosen her return fire well.

Envy watched as Camilla braced her hands on the male’s thighs—the material of his trousers pulled taut against the breadth of them—then leaned forward, tongue darting out to wet her full lips.

With nimble fingers, Camilla unlaced his trousers, slowly pulling his erection out. Envy strained to see the male’s face, wanting to mark it for future notice, but could only see what Camilla permitted from this memory.

And Camilla’s focus was entirely on the rock-hard cock twitching in her face.

Envy strained to release himself from this scene, but Camilla latched on, fed him more.

In the memory, she repositioned herself, then tentatively closed her mouth around the head, her cheeks hollowing out as the man instructed her to suck.

Envy wanted to put his fist through a wall.

The other male’s long fingers plunged into Camilla’s silver hair, threading it until he guided her into the motion he preferred. In the memory, Camilla nearly choked as the male pumped into her mouth. His grip in her hair tightened, his thrusts hitting the wall of her throat. Memory Camilla felt like she was choking—it thrilled and scared her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as the bastard fucked her mouth so hard and fast she couldn’t breathe.

Envy shouted in the memory, needing to be out. He didn’t care that she’d been with someone else, but seeing it… It drove him mad. And the bastard—whoever he was—hadn’t been gentle. He’d unleashed himself, uncaring of the woman’s comfort.

He didn’t realize she’d stopped provoking him—had somehow managed to tear them both free of the memory and backed him against a tree—until she pulled the dagger Envy had given her from her bodice and held it to his throat, her silver eyes flashing just as menacingly in the night.

They were both breathing hard, their eyes twin flames of envy.

Envy thought she would slit his throat right then and there. And he’d deserve it. Maybe he wanted her to—after that memory, he needed to be put out of his misery. The image of her on her knees, pleasuring someone else, was too much.

“Go on, pet. Hurt me.” His chest heaved with his heavy breath.

Instead, she tossed the blade to the ground and dragged his face to hers, their mouths crashing together.

Hunger overtook them. Or madness.

He knew it wasn’t madness but pure, unadulterated jealousy.

She didn’t ask about Vittoria, and he didn’t ask about the male in her memory.

They both needed to forget that other lovers had come into their lives, needed to imprint each other in their newest memories. Their game had taken a turn.

Camilla’s tongue was suddenly in his mouth and his fist was in her hair and the kiss was unlike any other he’d ever had. She drew back, raking her gaze over him, possessive and filled with raw need, then ripped his shirt open, kissing up the stubbled column of his neck.

She stopped again when she reached his jaw, long enough to run her hands along the front of his body, tracing his tattoos, the ridge of each muscle along his abdomen. The dark hunter-green ink placed just below his belt line was a Latin phrase he admired. But it was only one of his tattoos. Non ducor, duco. I am not led, I lead.

“Beautiful.” Her painter’s hands followed the lines as they dipped lower. “Powerful.”

The groan that escaped him was all demon.

“Camilla.”

He pulled her against him, roughly caressing her breasts as she nipped at his throat.

“Kiss me,” she whispered against his mouth, “like I’m the only thing you think about.”

She already fucking was.

Envy flipped her around, pressing her up against the same tree, yanking down her bodice to finally liberate those glorious breasts. They tumbled free, beautiful and golden in the shadows of the trees.

He deepened their kiss until she moaned, arching against him.

He was going to devour her right on the cursed path, make her forget that anyone else existed on this realm.

And Camilla was all too willing for him to do just that.

Envy fitted himself between her thighs and began a slow, rhythmic grinding of his body against hers, a promise of what was soon to come.

Camilla pressed back, giving as good as she was getting.

He cupped her breast as she bit his lip, rolling her nipple between his fingers until the nub hardened; then his fingers dipped lower, curling around the hem of her dress before he fisted the material, tempted to rip it to shreds.

Camilla made an impatient sound in the back of her throat as he slowly exposed her stockinged thighs, and then the bare flesh above them, where she hadn’t donned anything at all.

His knuckles skimmed the area he wished to be buried in, already damp with her arousal.

Envy wanted to take his time, to fulfill each of her fantasies and make her come until she couldn’t take another ounce of pleasure, but his cock ached.

He could no longer wait. It was sooner than he’d planned, but what they’d just done… they’d gone too far. Now he had to claim her.

Envy didn’t care what her secrets were, who he was or what his goal was, he wanted to shed civility and fuck like animals.

In one preternaturally fast motion, he had Camilla on the ground beneath him, her legs curling around his body, pulling him closer, locking him against her.

As if he’d leave now.

Envy didn’t think about the game or what she’d set into motion, his thoughts were only of her. Their mouths and tongues and teeth clashed, their hands gripping and tugging as if they were battling to be inside each other’s souls.

He began that slow, driving motion again, this time with his trousers against her bare flesh. One little piece of cloth separated him from being fully seated inside her.

“Tell me to stop, Camilla.”

If she didn’t, he would claim her. Right now. Ruin her for all other lovers.

Maybe she’d do the same to him.

His hips ground against her, harder, faster, finding a spot that made her claw him closer, her nails carving half-moon crescents into his skin, marking him, too.

Camilla’s eyes fluttered shut. He pressed that spot again, loving the way she gasped. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him tightly to her.

“Don’t you dare.”

Camilla was unlacing his trousers when he heard it.

A beat later he was on his feet, dagger in hand, scanning the woods.

He’d moved so swiftly Camilla didn’t even call out.

Nothing was there, but he sensed another presence. They’d been reckless.

He’d been reckless. Envy never should have let passion and jealousy cloud his judgment. He knew how dangerous Bloodwood Forest could be. He knew what the Fear Collector had done, and still he’d let desire take over his reason.

Envy held out a hand, keeping his attention locked on the woods, waiting.

“Come along, love. We’ll finish this at House Envy.”

Camilla didn’t reach for him. Didn’t utter a word.

He glanced down.

She was gone.

“Fuck.”

The game had already made its next move.

Where she’d been sprawled and eager a moment before lay only a card, the Immortal Heart facing upward. It was the symbol of the vampire court.

Zarus had been listening and wanted Envy to know.

Well, he certainly knew.

Envy stared at the infamous symbol—an anatomical heart, struck through the center with a skull-headed dagger that dripped blood—his breathing turning slow and even as a killing calm overtook him.

The vampire prince might be undead, but there were still ways to change that.