Текст книги "Throne of the Fallen"

Автор книги: Kerri Maniscalcol

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Текущая страница: 34 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

SIXTY-NINE

WHAT DID I tell you?” Gluttony grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Pay up, brothers.”

“You don’t know that for a fact,” Lust shot back sourly.

“The invitations said, and I quote, ‘We would be honored to celebrate our betrothal with you,’” Gluttony said in falsetto. “Facts are facts, brother. You lost. Again.”

Envy ignored the petty argument, his attention straying to the silver-haired beauty holding court with the Queen of the Wicked Emilia, her friend Lady Fauna, Lady Katherine, and—much to his constant annoyance—Wolf. The gods-damned silver-tongued Unseelie.

Though Envy supposed it was beneficial to his court to have him around; Camilla gently but playfully provoked his sin just to get a rise out of him.

And rise he did. Camilla’s passion ignited his constantly.

They’d barely slept since they returned to his House of Sin. Once the last of his court had drunk from the chalice, chasing off the madness of no new memories, they’d focused on one another. Healing old hurts, forging a bond stronger than steel.

He was relieved to show her how spectacular his demons were. And spectacular they were tonight. They wore their best gowns and suits, their finest jewels. Their eyes as clear and cunning as ever as they flitted around the party, mingling with the other demons, showing off their riches. Attempting to inspire jealousy by sharing stories and discussing new art.

Envy had never been happier, seeing his court as it should be.

And Camilla… she was worth facing his fears.

Envy had never imagined the strength he’d feel the moment he became vulnerable.

His Unseelie princess had been a tireless lover, demanding he make love to her in every room, every floor of his sprawling House of Sin.

Harder, faster, gentler, deeper. Camilla loved ordering him around.

And Envy must be mad, because it made him hard as steel every time.

But he could only take orders for so long.

He’d push her down, spread her thighs wide, devouring her in the kitchens, on the dining room table, in their bedchamber, in the gallery. She’d arch up from the table, shouting his name, cursing him, praising him, bucking as he suckled every bit of her arousal, then flipped her over and fucked her until she came again. And again.

His court would hurry by, averting their gazes, though he knew they secretly adored Envy’s infatuation. They wanted their prince as happy as possible, wanted him to enjoy all he’d fought for. And Camilla enjoyed stoking envy in everyone who knew she was the one to make him break his rule.

They’d made love on the throne every night: fingers, tongue, cock. And he wanted more. Forever. And since she wasn’t human, they had all that time and more.

For the first time in his long existence, he wanted to experience everything with another.

More laughter, more quiet moments, more midnight snacks, strawberries dipped in chocolate, the two of them sprawled in front of the fire, talking of art.

More games and bringing out each other’s human aspects that hadn’t existed before.

More walking the hallways of House Envy, rearranging paintings and sculptures based on what she preferred. When they could manage not to tear each other’s clothes off, they moved some of her art from Waverly Green, combining their collections.

It wasn’t enough. Envy wanted more still.

More running his fingers through her soft hair, watching her drift off to sleep, her face peaceful. Those full lips parted in dreamy contentment.

More games to play—and he was delighted he didn’t even know what they’d be yet.

Envy would remake worlds for her. Would break every rule to make her smile. He’d—

“Are you even listening?” Gluttony waved a hand in front of his face, shaking his head in disgust. “Witches’ tits. You’re worse than he is. He jabbed his thumb in Wrath’s direction. And he’s abhorrently in love. Look at him. He’s making doe-eyes at Emilia right here.”

The demon of war bared his teeth, his smile feral, so at odds with his finely made suit.

“One day you’re going to gorge yourself on those words, brother.” Wrath’s voice was laced with dark promise.

Gluttony snorted, the sound filled with derision.

The reporter he was feuding with hadn’t responded to the invitation Envy had sent, and he was sure Gluttony’s foul mood had nothing to do with that.

“Don’t count on it,” Gluttony said. “I bet Lust will be next.”

“Not a fucking chance in any of the realms combined. Where’s Sloth?” Lust asked. “Maybe he’ll make a chart and line up all the variables for me. I cannot fathom how you’re all content to bed the same person for the rest of your days.”

He shivered.

“Sloth went to find Pride,” Wrath said, gaze landing back on his wife. “I saw a book in his jacket, though.”

“Of fucking course.” Lust groaned. “I’ll see where he’s hiding. If he doesn’t start acting like a gods-damned demon, we’re all going to get bad reputations.” He jabbed a finger into Wrath’s chest. “You need to lay down a law or something.”

Wrath’s gold eyes glittered. “First rule? Don’t touch me again.”

“Don’t kill each other in this room,” Envy said. “I just had the floors waxed.”

He’d had the entire House scrubbed of any evidence of how close the court had come to falling. Looking at it now, no one would ever suspect they’d been on the brink of collapse.

Gluttony glanced around, brows knitted. “Where’s Greed?”

“There was an issue at his gaming hell,” Envy said. “He sent his regrets.”

Gluttony snorted. “I’m sure he did. Prick.”

Wrath and Gluttony began debating about boxing, and Envy took that as his cue to leave.

He strode down the corridor, walking to where Pride lounged in a chair he’d pilfered, his crown tilted to one side. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing corded muscle, his shirt half untucked from his trousers.

His head was tilted all the way back, his eyes closed. An empty glass hung from his fingers. Pride played the role of debauched prince so well, Envy wondered if he’d finally become that.

He stood over his brother, then kicked Pride’s boot, drawing his gaze.

It was slow, unfocused.

“Party over, Levi?”

Envy noticed the rest of the empty bottles, the broken wineglasses. They’d been shoved into the alcove beside him.

This time Pride wasn’t pretending to be the drunken royal.

“What happened?” Envy demanded.

Pride lifted a shoulder, dropping it as if he couldn’t be bothered to respond or care.

Envy kicked him harder. “Answer the damn question, Luc.”

“Sursea won’t tell me anything.”

The First Witch, Pride’s consort’s mother, had cursed them all when Pride and Lucia wed and then refused to dissolve their relationship. Witches and demons were sworn enemies, but that didn’t stop Pride from falling in love with the one witch he shouldn’t have. Lucia was strictly off-limits, but they chose each other, despite all the reasons they shouldn’t have.

One day, Lucia left House Pride without a word. Pride didn’t know if she’d been taken against her will, imprisoned somewhere, or given a True Death. He’d been searching ever since, even when the First Witch cursed them all, keeping them trapped in the Seven Circles for years. She’d done something worse to Pride before that, though, something he refused to speak of. Envy knew it had been the true root of the miscommunication between Pride and Lucia.

None of the demons felt anything but hatred for Sursea and her quest for vengeance.

“How convincing were you?” Envy asked.

Pride gave him a withering glare. “She knows where my wife is. Knows what happened. Do you think I showed any mercy?”

Envy thought Pride would never be as ruthless as he could be. He might hate the First Witch, but he loved Lucia and wouldn’t hurt her mother.

“She’s contained?” he asked.

Pride nodded. “Until I know what happened to Lucia, she stays at my House.”

“I’m going to ask you something; you’re not going to like it, but I don’t particularly care. Understand?”

Pride narrowed his eyes but nodded again.

“Do you want Vittoria?”

“That’s a bullshit question and you know it.”

“Then answer it.”

Pride’s hand tightened on his glass.

“Are you keeping something from me?”

Envy smiled. “I’ve heard rumors. Courtiers are so interesting when they’re drunk and think no one is listening.”

“Get to the point, Levi.”

Envy leaned down, lowering his voice. “I know you never fucked the goddess.”

Pride had gone perfectly still.

“I don’t know what your game is, why you let your court and wife think otherwise. I assume you have a reason. And that reason has to do with Sursea’s meddling and magic.”

He stared at his brother. Pride’s expression was carved of stone. He’d locked his emotions down entirely, not giving away any secret.

Admittedly, Envy hadn’t heard that rumor; it was a guess.

One that might prove to be true, given the way his brother had stopped breathing. If Pride hadn’t been distracted and drunk, he would have sensed the lie.

“If Lucia is alive, if she’s found happiness elsewhere, would you destroy that?”

Pride’s teeth grinded together. “Would you hurt Camilla?”

He’d sooner rip out his heart. Again.

Envy pulled the folded parchment from inside his coat, handing it to his brother. Before he let it go, he said, “Don’t screw this up.”

Pride yanked the note from his hands, then read it over.

Envy watched as the drunkenness was quickly replaced by sharpness. Pride sat straighter, body tensed, reading the note again.

“How?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“My spies have been hard at work.” Envy gave him a cold look. “Then Emilia’s ‘grandmother’ whispered a secret in my ear a few months ago.” Two, actually. That his House would soon fall, and the one he’d share now. “Lucia doesn’t remember. Any of it.”

“You saw her?”

Envy thought about the young woman he’d had kidnapped for a brief time to break the wards on Emilia’s family home, then used to force Emilia to do his bidding. Even now, his thoughts of her were muddled, like he couldn’t quite recall her face, even after their memory curse had been broken. Envy hadn’t known it was Lucia and that bothered him.

Sursea was far too powerful for his liking.

He decided to leave out the part about him sedating her with magic, no need to enrage his brother. Desperate times had called for extreme measures. “Yes, I believe so. I think she might have a glamour, though. I didn’t immediately recognize her when our paths crossed.”

Something suspiciously close to hope lighted in Pride’s gaze. “But she lives.”

Envy nodded slowly.

“Make sure you know what you want before you seek her. If it’s just your pride…”

Envy didn’t finish the thought. Pride knew.

Pride uncoiled from his chair, note clutched tightly in his fist. He ran a hand through his hair, seeming unsure of what to do next.

“Well?” Envy pressed.

“Looks like I’ll be traveling to the Shifting Isles soon.”

“You likely only have one chance.”

Pride gave him a genuine smile. “It’s more than I had this morning.”

He took off down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

Lust stepped from the shadows, his expression contemplative. “My money’s on the goddess.”

“Not a chance.” Envy snorted. “Pride will choose Lucia. It’s always been Lucia.”

Mischief flared in Lust’s charcoal gaze. “Shall we place a wager?”

“Now you want to bet?” Envy looked his brother over. “What was your bet with Gluttony, again?”

“I bet you’d be a stubborn prick. You lived by that gods-damned rule for centuries. It seemed like a sure win.”

“Looks like my coffers will be as legendary as my cock.” Envy grinned as his brother scowled. “I accept your wager. Pride wins back Lucia. Vittoria ends up with the werewolf.”

“Or the new vampire prince.”

Envy scoffed. “Blade doesn’t consort with death goddesses. And he’s already said he’s choosing a vampire bride.”

Lust tossed an arm around him, walking back toward the reception. “Not what I’ve heard. Our friend secretly enjoys dancing with true death.”

“House Vengeance and Malice Isle as a united front.” Envy shuddered at the thought. “Work your charm before we all live to regret it. If you’re not amenable, maybe we can convince Wolf to seduce her. Hell, maybe she’ll even keep the shifter, Fae, and vampire.”

“Look at you, scheming already.” Lust snorted. “This is why you’re my favorite brother.”

Camilla stepped into the hall, took one look at the brothers, and shook her head.

“Whatever you’re plotting, stop.” She leveled a cold look at Envy and his gods-damned desire for her flared. “I mean it. No games tonight.”

Envy’s mouth curved wickedly.

Oh, there would be games.

Tonight, however, he’d keep them in the bedroom.

Right where his cunning little fiancée liked them.

Envy and Lust entered the throne room behind Camilla, the party well underway. Emerald-encrusted trays towering with Dark and Sinfuls made the rounds, while a central fountain of demonberry wine cascaded in a dark, glittering wave down a tower and into hundreds of coupe glasses. House Envy twirled across the checkered dance floor.

Lust went to flirt with a demon near the shellfish table, where platters were laden with pearl-like delicacies and other oceanic marvels.

Envy stood in the shadows a moment after waving his brother off.

He chuckled when he saw Bunny, rubbing around Wrath’s legs. The General of War glanced around quickly before scrubbing behind Bunny’s ears, earning an amused look from Emilia at her husband’s new friend.

Envy caught a flash of silver, winding its way around the crowd, heading toward the dais. His heart stuttered a beat as Camilla climbed the steps and slowly twisted, her gaze finding his across the room. Her mouth curved as she sat on his throne, her expression a wonderful, taunting promise of what was to come.

Later, after the last guest had gone, once the last drink had been drunk, Envy would take her in his arms, dancing her around the throne room.

Then he’d make all her fantasies come true.

SEVENTY

CAMILLA CLUTCHED ENVY’S arm, a thrill racing through her as he guided her down another corridor, blindfold snugly fitted over her eyes.

During breakfast, he’d casually mentioned he had a surprise, then sipped his coffee. Like he hadn’t just ignited her curiosity, set her mind whirling in a hundred directions.

When she’d pressed him for more information, he’d just given her a roguish wink.

Once their meal was finished, he pulled out the blindfold. Camilla’s thoughts turned to the night he’d used her robe’s sash to cover her eyes, then kissed her everywhere.

Her husband-to-be knew how to drive her mad in the best ways.

The hard muscles of his arm flexed as he steered her down another corridor, their pace unhurried, unlike her heartbeat.

At first, she’d tried to mentally follow their path, mapping out what section of House Envy he’d taken her to. But she quickly gave up when it seemed like they’d doubled back in some places and ventured down hallways she hadn’t explored yet.

“Are we close?” she asked, excitement lacing her tone.

She felt the smile in his voice when he answered.

“Almost.”

He was as excited as she was.

Envy had surprised her. In the weeks following the truth of who she was, a tender, romantic side emerged when they were alone together. Her fiancé wooed her often and with reckless abandon, as if he were making up for years of never permitting himself to have a soft side. Or maybe what he’d said was true—that Camilla made him want to do those things.

Gifts, walks in the garden, around the circle, all over the House, conversations about everything and nothing, lovemaking… Envy wanted to know her mind, body, and soul.

He still had his wicked side, which she loved equally. That side stirred her passions, fed her Fae nature unlike any other. Envy’s gaze still glittered dangerously, still owned all her senses. They fucked as often as they made love and their appetites for each other were relentless.

She wondered whether he was part Unseelie or simply insatiable. Whenever she desired him, he was ready for her, ready to do everything she wanted and more. And their games, those were as tempting and gloriously sinful as ever.

They finally stopped. Camilla strained to hear any sounds that would indicate where they were. After the court had regained their memories, the castle was usually filled with pleasant noise.

Silence stretched. Though, distantly, Camilla almost swore she heard a sound like faint, tinkling bells.

Envy’s lips brushed her ear and she shivered from the pleasant sensation.

“Ready?”

She bit her lip, then nodded.

Anticipation thickened the air, made her pulse pound harder. The damn demon was teasing the moment out, knowing she’d grow taut from the unknown.

Was he about to make love to her here? Was there a new gown? A new painting? A—

The blindfold fell away.

An enormous, arched silver door gleamed in front of them. Their reflections were distorted by the number of carvings on it. Runes.

Camilla’s gaze swept over the door, above and around it; wisteria vines had been carved, so lifelike she would have thought they were real if it hadn’t been for the silver.

Her attention snagged on the one part that wasn’t solid silver—an emerald lock, shaped like a heart. She stepped forward, brushing her hand along the door.

The humming, bell-like sound intensified.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “Where does it go?”

When Envy didn’t respond, she turned to him.

He held a gold key, also heart-shaped, with a tiny emerald that matched the lock. Her breath caught. It was her father’s key. The Silverthorne Key.

“You took it,” she whispered.

“I wanted to keep it away from the Wild Court,” he said. “But I wanted to hold on to it in case you wished to use it.”

She blinked the stinging from her eyes. He’d planned this before he knew she’d agree to come with him. Had hoped she would.

Envy pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, holding her while she cried. When she quieted, he pressed one last kiss to her head, then stepped back, holding the key up for her to take.

“Feeling adventurous, pet?”

She stuck the key in the lock and twisted. The silver melted, revealing a long, narrow corridor. Camilla knew exactly where this led. It wasn’t Silverthorne Lane. It was much better.

She grabbed Envy’s hand and hurried into the tunnel, wondering how he’d managed such a thing. They emerged in her father’s studio.

She heaved a contented sigh. Everything was just as she’d left it. Only a month or two had passed since she’d been there, but it felt like everything had changed inside her.

She donned a glamour, not as good as her mother’s but one that allowed her to pass as human, and went to her home.

After speaking with her house staff and assuring them that all was well, Camilla pulled Envy into her bedchamber, then wrapped her arms around him, kissing him deeply until they were both breathless.

“Thank you,” she murmured against his lips. “This is the best gift in the world.”

Envy traced the curve of her face, tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ears, then kissed her nose.

“Your gallery, your memories of your mortal father—I know how important this city is to you. I don’t want you to sacrifice anything to stay at House Envy.”

He glanced around, his gaze pausing on the bed, then the door to the bathing chamber.

“Now we can spend the day here and come home at night.”

“You’re going to come back to Waverly Green too?”

He smiled. “As often as I can.”

“What if I’d like to spend the night here?” she asked, tugging at his lapels.

Envy allowed her to lead him to the bed.

In a move too swift for a human to detect, he had her pinned beneath him, his body hard and ready.

“I’m sure we can find something tempting about that.”

She smiled, unlacing his trousers. “I’m sure we can.”

When he pushed inside and began those deep, rhythmic thrusts that made her body lose all control, Camilla felt as if they’d truly won it all.

SEVENTY-ONE

THERE’S ONE MORE surprise I might have forgotten to mention yesterday.”

Envy stood beside the studio doors, giving Camilla the chance to enter first.

“This studio is yours whenever you’d like to create here,” he said. “I know you’ve got your father’s studio and the gallery in Waverly Green, but I want you to feel at home here, in House Envy, too.”

Her attention traveled along the candlelit room, pausing on the unrolled canvas lying on the floor, a second sprawled across the mattress he’d had brought in.

The far wall was entirely comprised of windows—he’d had the iron grates replaced with silver, keeping the curling filigree design.

A wooden bookshelf soared the twenty feet to the ceiling and was stocked with rolls of canvases, paintbrushes, pencils, chalks, watercolors, charcoals, sketchbooks, clay, knives, and every possible object she could dream up to use, to create and mold to her heart’s content.

There were gilded mirrors and fruits and other objects if she wished to paint a still life. Chairs and easels and stools. Frames in a thousand different sizes and shapes lay stacked neatly.

“It’s perfect.”

Flowers—gardenias and jasmine and wisteria—spilled out of urns and vases, the scents meant to invoke the good parts of her family’s court.

Envy knew she had a fondness for wisteria, knew she didn’t want to turn her back on her court entirely.

Though she’d made it abundantly clear she didn’t wish to rule. Yet.

There was no telling what the future held—unless they were the divining Seven Sisters with their threads of fate, or the Triple Moon Mirror with its ability to see the past, present, and future, they would need to wait and see what tomorrow brought.

Ayden sent letters weekly, trying to convince her she was needed to balance the five-point star court. With their mother missing and father dead, two courts were without leaders. Three, technically, since Onyx was captive.

Camilla did not want to take up that royal mantle.

Envy would support her in any decision. But now wasn’t the time for worrying about the future. This evening was about them.

Paint buckets in every shade of silver, purple, blue, yellow, white, and green lined the perimeter. Their colors, and the colors found within her favorite flowers.

Candles flickered everywhere.

“Tonight, I have a very special painting planned.”

Camilla’s silver gaze snapped to his, intrigue igniting in her eyes.

“Oh?” she asked, tone innocent.

As if she hadn’t already figured out exactly what he’d planned. He watched her roll the buttons on her bodice between her fingers, waiting for him to order her around. But only in this setting. Camilla would have his balls if he ever tried that outside their bedroom games.

His mouth curved. “Take off your dress.”

The silky gown pooled at her feet.

He admired her nude form, all tantalizing golden skin, hard nipples, and soft curves. She’d taken to wearing lingerie only sometimes now, keeping him constantly guessing what was beneath her clothes. Skin or lace. He liked it all.

Envy jerked his chin toward the mattress and Camilla stepped back, stopping when the backs of her legs brushed against it.

He dipped a finger into the silver paint, then traced the swell of her breast, curled around her peaked nipple, then drew a line down to her navel.

Camilla’s skin pebbled from the cool liquid paint, her breathing turning erratic.

He swirled another finger into a lighter silver paint, then drew his hands up the sides of her thighs. Camilla watched him with a hungry, silent stare. She wanted him to use her body as a canvas. Had wanted it for quite some time. Tonight, they’d both get their wish.

He considered the green paint, then dipped both hands into the one that matched his eyes best. His palms dripped with it, and Camilla let out a little gasp when he clapped both hands to her plush bottom, leaving his mark right where he wanted.

“Sit down, love.”

Camilla’s gaze sparkled. She did as he asked, making sure to slide her body across the canvas he’d laid out on the bed.

He stripped, enjoying the way her pulse ticked faster with each layer he slowly removed. When he kicked his trousers off and his length sprang free, she wet her lips.

She sat up, like she was about to lick him from tip to root, then stuck her hands deep into the silver paint. She tossed a handful of liquid silver at him, laughing as it dripped down his chest, splattering his erection.

“That, my love,” Envy purred, “means war.”

He unleashed his wings, knowing how much she liked them.

Camilla traced the emerald plumage, her touch gentle, stimulating. He almost forgot his plan. Just as his brilliant wife-to-be had plotted. He grabbed a bucket and tossed its contents at her, loving the squeal of delight as she shrieked and jumped back.

She tossed a bucket of hunter-green paint at him, laughing as he swore.

Soon they were both covered in paint, panting and rolling across the canvas. His wings became a mess of wild color.

“Fuck me, now,” she demanded at last, breathless.

“With pleasure.”

He slammed inside her, and they both cursed.

Camilla’s walls clenched around him, milking him as he thrust in and out, the paint erotic as it glided over their skin, their love creating its own masterpiece. Camilla’s nails dug into his shoulders, right between his wings.

She tugged him closer, wrapped her legs around him.

He fucked her hard, their bodies smearing the paint all over in wild strokes.

He slipped a hand between them, playing with her clit until she panted.

They both roared as they came, bucking until each last ounce of pleasure had rocked through them. He knew, without a doubt, that the work below them would be the most prized painting in his collection.

They lay entwined for several long minutes; then Camilla climbed on top of him.

“More.”

He admired her as she rolled her hips, taking him slow and deep as she set the pace. Then he flipped her over, shot them out through the window, then flew up until they were soaring and made love to her among the stars.

At some point, they returned to the studio, rolled around in the paint some more. Camilla demanded he climb on top of her, extend his wings so she could hoist her legs up over them. He did as his princess commanded. Holding her legs straight up, bracing them first against his shoulders, pumping into her hard and fast, their skin clapping in pleasure.

Later, once they’d finally managed to drag themselves away from their art, he had the piece framed. He grinned at Camilla, splattered from head to toe and every delicious crevice in between in a rainbow of colors.

“Where should we hang this?”

She pretended to think for all of one moment.

“I know just the place, Your Highness.”

She led him to their bedchamber, then glanced up at the ceiling, brows raised expectantly.

He tossed his head back and laughed.

Apparently, his legendary art was being retired.

Envy couldn’t imagine a more perfect replacement.

Before he could offer any sort of retort, Camilla drew his mouth to hers and kissed him.

“I love you,” she whispered as she moved back, gaze searching.

He stared at her, heart pounding. Truth slammed into him.

And for once, he didn’t lie in return.

“I love you, too.”

Soon, they were tangled up in his sheets—dried paint flaking off onto the hunter-green silk—and Envy found he didn’t care about anything but the female he’d happily break all his rules for, from now until forever fucking more.