Текст книги "Throne of the Fallen"

Автор книги: Kerri Maniscalcol

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

FORTY-SIX

ENVY PULLED CAMILLA behind him, his battle senses on high alert, the pain inflicted by the hellebane still searing through him, honing his senses to a sharp blade.

They stood outside the private cottage on the outskirts of his grounds. He wanted a chance to speak with Camilla, to process all he’d just witnessed, and to clean himself up before deciding whether he should risk taking her into his castle. He’d need to walk his House first to ensure that the worst of his court’s failing would be hidden.

Now that would have to wait.

A shadow moved along the forest’s edge, bringing with it that sense of darkness that indicated one thing. Fae.

“Step into the clearing, slowly,” Envy commanded.

The Unseelie did.

The male had a shock of white hair, pale yellow eyes, and lashes blacker than ink. His brown boots were scuffed but well made, his shirtsleeves rolled to show off dark bronze forearms, toned and lethal. The shirt was wrinkled, but even in the dark Envy saw the fine weave of the linen. The Fae wore a hat tugged low, hiding his elegant pointed ears.

He looked like a mortal hunter who’d dashed out from the woods, weapon missing, but most didn’t realize he was the weapon.

Envy recognized him by reputation instantly.

“You’re a long way away from hunting maidens in the woods, Wolf.”

“Rumors abound.” The Fae smiled, revealing more of his face and discarding his human disguise. “They say you crowned a new vampire.”

Wolf’s voice was melodic, mesmerizing, and had been used to seduce more than a few mortals over the years. His voice was a sign he’d once held rank in his court, though he was a long way from home now.

Envy didn’t miss the fact that he’d referenced the gossip column. Wolf had likely come to see if the rumors about House Envy were true, testing the ward’s boundaries. They were true, of course, but the ward Envy had placed was smaller than most would guess, surrounding only his House.

“You have a message from Lennox?” Envy asked.

The Fae drew closer, suddenly curious about Camilla. Too curious.

Envy’s dagger was in hand, the blade still faintly glowing from its recent offerings.

The Unseelie noticed it and stepped back, smiling as if amused.

“Rumors, as I said.” Wolf’s grin spread. “Lovely little shocking rumors.”

He was still looking at Camilla, fixated in a way that wouldn’t end well.

Envy stepped forward, dripping menace.

“My patience wanes.”

“I have no message from the king,” Wolf said. “I was simply curious whether the rumors were true. I see that they are. Delightfully so.”

“If you were curious about the new vampire prince, why come here?”

“Those two are unrelated.” The Fae flashed another smile, this one as wolfish as his name. “I’ll be seeing you, fair winter lady. Shifting seasons are always so beautiful.”

Before Envy could run him through with his blade, the Unseelie was gone, shifting from one reality to another.

Envy glanced back at Camilla, his sin threatening to emerge. For a moment, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Have you met him before?” Envy asked, suspicious.

Her gaze darted to where the Fae had disappeared.

“Everyone’s heard of his legends.”

“Try not to appear so enthralled.” Envy’s mood soured further, noting she hadn’t answered his question. “He hunts women.”

“Those stories aren’t exactly true.” Camilla bit her lower lip after the admission.

“Oh? Do enlighten me, Miss Antonius.”

“Wolf prefers women, but he doesn’t hunt them to eat. Well”—she cleared her throat—“at least not in the way the stories tell it. Wolf’s appetite is… most in Waverly Green believe he tricks maidens into letting him inside their homes. That’s the cautionary tale told by men, at least, but from what I’ve heard, maidens are only too pleased to see Wolf. A night with him is… enough of a threat for men to weave such tall tales.”

He’d battled a vampire and legendary monsters, and Camilla’s face had flushed only when recalling lurid stories of the cursed Unseelie Fae and his bedroom skills. Envy stalked up the stairs to his cottage, wounds stinging.

As if Envy himself hadn’t given her an orgasm with his legendary tongue.

Jealousy, cold and unrelenting, lashed through him.

“Come,” he said, his tone frosty and perhaps a little petty. “Unless you’d like to wait for Wolf to return and see to that.”

After Envy had shown Camilla to her private room and attached bathing chamber, he retired to his own bedroom suite. The cottage was large and well-appointed, fit for a prince who wished for others to envy him. It also happened to be the perfect place to entertain Camilla while he privately checked his court. After tending to his wounds.

He hissed as he slowly peeled off his shirt. His cuts had only partially healed, causing his skin to freshly rip again when he removed his clothing.

Another thing was stinging Envy too. Directly after the battle, he’d waited for the next clue to be delivered. But no message had come.

And as for Camilla… he’d suspected she had secrets, but she’d seemed momentarily stunned by the magic that crackled over her skin like little webs of lightning.

Whether she knew she possessed the skill or it had been a shock remained to be seen. Creatures in nature held such power—electric eels, for one. Leading him to think she might be a shape-shifter.

If she wasn’t fully shifter, she could have some unique parentage; shifter blood from a distant relative would show in such ways.

Fae also possessed skills like hers—magic, and talents. But he hadn’t gotten any indication she had Seelie blood. Her ears were those of a mortal. Until tonight, he hadn’t seen any hint of magic. After he’d massaged her, there had been no sign of an enchantment inked onto her skin. And a glamour could often still be detected, even slightly.

If not Fae or shifter, then what else could she be?

Envy’s hands were on his trouser strings when he heard her sharp inhalation behind him.

He hadn’t looked in the mirror; he’d already known the wounds on his back weren’t pretty. They were deep, down to the bone in some places, and the hellebane ate away at his flesh.

They might even scar, for once.

The tattoo that symbolized his House, starting just above his elbow on his right bicep before winding across his shoulder and onto his chest, might even need touching up.

“They didn’t hold back,” she said softly.

Her touch was featherlight and far too tempting.

He knew what those painter’s hands were capable of.

“Miss Antonius.” Envy meant for his tone to come out harsh, but it was too low, too inviting even to his own ears. “You should go back to your suite.”

“I have a salve.”

Her fingers traced his shoulder muscles, bunched and tense, until they slowly relaxed from her ministrations.

“And some herbs for your bath. They were gifted from Blade.”

Envy smiled at that, appreciating a smart move when he saw one.

The new crown prince was already strengthening their alliance, making amends for the previous ruler. Envy doubted the Unseelie King would be pleased that this particular game had landed so smoothly. Lennox no doubt had wanted to create chaos and discord, to shake up the courts.

Not to mention, now that Envy knew Lennox had promised Zarus he’d unite their courts through marriage, Lennox would be spitting mad when he found out Blade intended to take a vampire bride. He’d already announced that he’d choose from one of the noble families in Malice Isle, further securing his claim to the throne.

It was another wise move. Now all the nobles who might have plotted to take Blade’s crown would plot to have their heirs ruling beside him. The new vampire prince wouldn’t risk marrying a Fae and causing any more strife.

Besides, Blade refused to fall for anyone who could be food. He’d made that abundantly clear. And that was partly why Envy had known Camilla would be safe near him. He’d only ever heard of the vampire deviating from his rule once—when he’d gotten tangled up with a werewolf.

Enemies made interesting bedmates.

Lennox must not have known, or thought Blade could be swayed to his side.

“Your arm and chest… twin wolves?” she asked.

He swallowed thickly. Thankful the ink was still intact.

“A double-headed wolf. My House symbol.”

Envy imagined Camilla taking in the piece, how it covered his entire upper arm, then the right side of his chest. The lower portion of the wolf’s body began right above his elbow; it stood on its hind legs, body reaching up to his shoulder. Its first head angled toward his chest, curving across his shoulder, its muzzle closed and somehow peaceful, contemplative.

The second head was set lower, taking up his pectorals, and was vicious. Its jaws hung open, teeth snapping at an unseen enemy.

With the exception of their vivid green eyes, Envy had chosen the tattoo without color, wanting the contrast cast by the shadows to give it stark beauty. Chiaroscuro always fascinated him, the study of light versus dark.

His wolves were forever chasing after something just out of reach.

Never content. Monsters, green-eyed and vicious. Like him.

Without any warning, Camilla slathered Envy’s first cut with the salve. It burned like hell. Envy gritted his teeth as those lovely little hands continued to slowly torture him with the herbs. Admittedly, the first wound already felt better.

In no time she’d tended to each claw mark and laceration.

The hole where the bull’s horn had pierced him was worse, but soon that, too, slowly began to stitch itself together, the skin itching and stinging like fire ants had nested there.

Camilla pressed a hand to his good shoulder, turning him until he glanced down at her.

She winced as if feeling his pain firsthand, though most was only a dull ache now.

His chest held only one wound, but it was by far the worst of them. Panthera had gotten one good hit in, its claw nearly gutting him.

Her gaze followed the jagged line from his chest to his navel.

Some emotion flickered there.

She touched his chest softly, her brow knitting. “Your heart…”

If it could have pounded, it would have been doing so now.

Envy gently withdrew her hands. “Will grow back soon enough.”

Horror washed over her features. “What? How?”

“Let’s just say I would have followed you to the vampire court sooner if I hadn’t run into a slight… issue.”

Camilla stared at him, seeming unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly, softly.

It made something primitive inside him sit up, snarl.

“I don’t recall you wielding a blade, pet. Do not apologize for someone else.”

“Let me rephrase.” Silver eyes glimmered with annoyance. “I’m sorry, but this will hurt terribly.”

Camilla smeared the salve down his front, her touch no longer gentle as she coated the wound, leaving no minute section untended.

He swore and jerked back, but the little hell beast moved with him, finishing the job with brutal efficiency.

“There.” Her tone was clipped as she twisted the cap back on the salve. “That should be sufficient. Blade’s note said to reapply if necessary.”

She slapped a bag of herbs to his still-healing chest.

“Add two generous pinches of this mixture to your bath and soak for twenty minutes. It won’t improve your attitude, but your wounds should heal nicely.”

Cursed saints above, he was hard as granite. Again.

She turned to leave, and he snatched her hand, drawing her close against him.

Her desire hit him harder than any blow he’d taken in the arena. It was the first powerful emotion he’d felt from her since they’d come to his circle.

“Allow me to properly thank you, Miss Antonius.”

Before she could offer him another smart comment, his mouth came down on hers.

FORTY-SEVEN

CAMILLA HAD JUST killed a man for less. But Envy’s brazen kiss… brought her back to life.

If she’d been trapped in a cocoon of ice, frozen from the horror of what she’d done, she’d broken free now. His fire ravished all the dark, cold places in her soul, warming her, making her feel everything. Protected. Safe. Alive. Passionate.

Strong hands touched everywhere: her hair, her throat, cupping her breasts, running over her hips and thighs, stroking each area like her body was his favorite canvas.

Her gasps were his paint, her lips his greatest inspiration.

He tasted and teased, nipped and owned. Never relinquishing her mouth for long, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance she never wanted to end.

The kiss was a battle, a plea, a path to salvation or their greatest destruction.

Their game had become intimate, each move he made provoking one of her own. When she teased him, he returned the favor until they were clawing at each other’s clothes, shedding them as quickly as they’d shed any notion of restraint.

Camilla didn’t care what it was. Masterpiece, chaos, it made no difference. It was pleasure: intoxicating and pure, and she drank it down, sip after decadent sip.

His callused skin was rough against her softness, the friction a wonderful, unexpected delight for the senses. Camilla had hated this scrap of a gown in the vampire court; now she relished how much skin it exposed, the access it granted him to stroke and caress.

She touched him back as freely, flattening her palms on his bare chest, marveling at how soft his skin was there despite the hard muscle underneath, despite how torn it had been only moments before.

The intricately crafted tattoos marking his arm and chest were just as beautiful as the hunter-green ink at his belt line; she traced them all, listening to the rasp of his breath as she moved lower, along the line of his trousers, slung so low on his hips it ought to be criminal.

Despite his injuries, he was already aroused, the thick length of him straining against his pants.

Camilla wanted to pull him free, offer him the same release he’d offered her.

She went to undo his trousers.

His arms, capable of slaying giants, were gentle when they came around her, drawing her closer, staying her movements.

What had started as hungry, greedy kisses slowed into something more tender, gentle but never shy. Their lips began to savor, to move as if—for once—they had all the time in the world to learn all about each other, explore.

It was languorous, drowsy. The sort of kiss that made knees weak and heartbeats strong. It took her a moment to appreciate the shift, enjoy the sweetness of it.

His tongue touched hers, heat pooling low in her belly from the lazy stroke, invoking memories of when he’d made that same movement between her thighs, kissing the apex of her body until her back had arched off the bed and heat bolted up her spine.

When his hands moved over her now, it was less about possession, less about feral need; it was a question that made her breath catch, an answer that threatened to undo her.

All the teasing, the private games, the allure of knowing they only had one night, and she’d wanted to make it last, draw it out for as long as possible. It had just been a fun game. A way to forget her loneliness for a while, a lighthearted way to pass the time.

What Envy was doing now, this move… it threatened her carefully constructed walls.

Camilla had thought she knew the rules of this private game, but now he was kissing her like she meant something. Like this wasn’t just about winning one night.

Like he might be playing to win something more.

And that awful realization, that he might in fact still be playing at all, made her face a truth she wasn’t ready for.

Camilla felt as if she were falling, plummeting from the heavens to the earth, and he was the star she clung to, their desire lighting the whole damn sky.

Or maybe they were a comet, destined to crash.

Camilla drew away, touching her swollen lips; they tingled, seeking the press of his.

Envy brushed her hair back, cupping her face between his hands as if she were precious, the most intriguing piece of art he’d ever laid eyes on.

Those hands still had blood on them. But his violence didn’t frighten her.

She watched as his palm slid to her chest, feeling the beat of her heart instead of tracing her peaked breast, still aching with want.

The way Envy looked at her now was dangerous. So, brutally dangerous.

More than the dagger he’d wielded with ease, or the cold, efficient way he’d dispatched creatures twice his size. The sharp edge of his lust had been honed to a finer point by something… else, something that could strike with more precision, travel deeper until it pierced a vital part inside her. Whatever game this was… it could slip between her ribs faster than he would slip out from beneath her sheets after their one night together ended.

His gaze never wavered from hers, so she saw the moment when he realized what she had seen, before banishing it from his face. A flicker in a storm, there one moment and blown away the next. But Camilla had seen it for what it was, knew it would never last.

This would always be a game to him. And the tender move, the sweet kiss… this play knocked her wildly off-balance. Only to worry she was tumbling all by herself.

“I should go,” she said tightly, suddenly needing space.

Seeming to understand, he clasped her wrist in his hand, drawing her palm to his lips.

He pressed a kiss to her skin, then stepped away.

“Bathe. Rest,” he said, backing into his bedchamber, giving her leave to exit.

A chasm opened between them, stretching wide, where moments ago there had only been closeness. A desire to breach all that separated them. At least on her end.

The tenderness was gone, replaced once again by his cool indifference.

Envy was content with their game as it was. And she’d broken the unspoken rule. She’d fallen for the illusion.

“I’ll see you in a little while for dinner.”

Camilla opened her mouth, to call him back, to explain why she suddenly needed to protect her heart, that this private game had somehow started to mean something it shouldn’t. She wanted to cry out that she wasn’t who he thought she was, but the only words that came out were a softly spoken lie.

“A bath sounds good.”

Camilla’s head rested against the lip of the tub, her silvery hair pinned high to avoid getting wet, the water’s warmth finally soothing her. She was trying to forget Vexley’s attack and subsequent death. The way he’d looked so broken and fragile as she’d stepped over him.

Then there was Wolf. He’d wanted to speak with her, for a while now. Had played a dangerous game, trespassing on the prince’s land.

With the real game underway, Camilla knew she couldn’t ignore Wolf forever.

Then there was Envy…

Excitement was something she’d craved while living her quiet little mortal life in Waverly Green. And so she’d been a willing player in their flirtation. Had enjoyed it thoroughly. There’d been a dark sense of pleasure in constantly upping the ante with him. She liked that he didn’t hold back, that he made his move boldly and ruthlessly, that he’d pursue her, then pull back, waiting to see what she’d do, delighting when she bested him. He’d treated her like an equal. His constant playing exciting her on multiple levels, not purely physical.

Their dynamic had been working wonderfully until that kiss tonight.

She knew what she needed to do next: end their game. And not by giving in to the heat that burned between them like flying near the fiery sun.

Camilla needed to put distance between them, set new boundaries. She’d focus on the game master, on helping Envy win, since that seemed to somehow be tied to her role; then she’d win back her talent and return to Waverly Green.

It was a good enough plan, even if she didn’t feel thrilled by it. It was the safe choice, the one that guaranteed she’d remain free of more heartbreak. She’d already experienced enough of that to last a lifetime. And Envy… even if she wished to share her secret with him, she couldn’t bring herself to. It was best to end their game now and walk away unscathed.

Her eyes drifted shut, the promise of sleep tugging her conscience under. Much too soon a quiet knock broke the serenity.

“Come in.”

There was no logical reason for Camilla’s skin to suddenly pebble as if a cold wind had snaked through the warm bathing chamber, yet goose bumps rose along her flesh, her body aware of what her mind had yet to notice.

Her eyes cracked opened. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Prince Envy stood there, looking as sinful as Lucifer the moment he’d accepted his wickedness and fallen from grace.

She should demand he leave. She’d already concluded that this flirtation needed to end.

Camilla did not speak at all.

She wanted to know why he’d come. Maybe he knew that kiss had been too much. Had come too close to meaning something they both knew it didn’t.

She raised a brow, waiting.

He could explain himself; then she’d send him away.

Envy’s attention slowly meandered along the lines of her neck as if cataloguing the shape to later have painted. It was something he’d done before, like that unassuming swath of skin fascinated him, called to his need to have someone capture it on canvas.

“Two things drove me here, Miss Antonius,” he began. “First, I considered apologizing for my behavior.”

Her heart pounded faster. She’d been correct. The kiss was just another move.

A moment passed, followed by another.

She wondered if he hadn’t quite worked out his apology and why simply saying “I apologize for being a tremendous ass and ruining our game” seemed to be such a monumentally difficult task.

When he didn’t attempt to speak again, Camilla’s patience dwindled.

“What’s preventing you from accomplishing just that, Your Highness?”

His mouth curved, and Camilla knew at once he’d laid a trap. He’d been waiting for her to take the bait.

“I realized I would be lying. I’m not remotely sorry.”

“For which part?”

Curse her. That was not the question she’d intended to ask.

“You know which part.”

“That’s not the way this is supposed to work.”

“Do you want me to suddenly play by the rules?”

He knew she didn’t, the damn beast. His smile was victorious. He hadn’t come here to apologize at all; Envy had come here to restart their flirtation, to up the stakes once again.

“Were you to say the words, I’d have you out of that tub and on the bed this instant.” His voice was sin incarnate.

He continued, more slowly now, taking another step into the room.

“As an artist, I’m sure you can envision my tongue on the canvas of your bare body. I imagine we could make quite the masterpiece together. If you don’t forfeit now.”

Camilla’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay calm. “You have no morals.”

“True. But yours are as gray in tone as mine, my dear.”

“That’s hardly true.”

“What a cunning little liar you are.”

She was indeed.

“What is the second thing that brought you here?” she asked. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in this again, no matter how aroused she was feeling in the bath.

Heat kissed her cheeks that had nothing to do with the warm water.

He smiled, noticing her pinkened skin. “Thinking about my tongue, Miss Antonius?”

Camilla’s thighs squeezed together.

“No. I’m thinking of dinner.”

His attention moved to the bathwater, rippling from the subtle movement.

Hunger flashed in his eyes.

“Lie to me all you like, Camilla. But this isn’t over yet, and you know it. When you’re in bed tonight, fingers trailing over your deliciously swollen clit, you’ll be dreaming of my hand doling out your pleasure.”

Before she could argue, the damned demon gave her a mocking bow, then left.

Frustrated and highly aroused, Camilla slipped her hand beneath the water, doing exactly what the prince had said.

As she came, she made sure her moans were loud enough for the demon to hear across the cottage, hoping to drive him as wild as he’d driven her.