Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked Book 2)

I closed my eyes and silently swore before glowering at Anir. “You are truly the worst.”

“I bet seven devil coins you feel different after your next lesson.” The traitor shot me a devious grin. “Don’t forget your purse tomorrow, Lady Em.”

“Lock the door on your way out.”

Wrath’s voice was much too close. I felt his breath near the base of my neck, and I briefly considered rushing to the door or inventing a spell to have the floor swallow me whole. Instead, I squared my shoulders and slowly turned around. His focus was entirely on the human. Anir lost a bit of his playful swagger, replacing it with a seriousness I hadn’t seen in him since the night Lord Makaden lost his tongue.

“No one is to enter this room until I give the signal that our training is over. Is that understood?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Anir offered me a polite bow and quickly made for the exit. Coward. I smiled to myself. Speaking of cowards, pretending the demon prince wasn’t there, and hadn’t overheard something I never meant him to hear, would not serve my bid for being fearless, either.

I forced myself to meet Wrath’s imposing stare and hid my surprise as I assessed my newest opponent. He wasn’t dressed entirely in black today; he wore a brilliant white shirt and tailcoat. I took in his huge frame, the cold set to his features, and swallowed hard. He was not in a pleasant mood. I decided now was not the time for bravery. A clever schemer understood the art of retreat. Wrath was up to no good and I wanted no part in discovering how bad he could be.

“I don’t think your training is necessary. Anir was doing an exceptional job.”

A smile spread across the prince’s face, though there was no hint of mirth to be found in it. The look confirmed that remaining around for this training was a terrible idea. I took a step back and something dangerous sparked in Wrath’s eyes.

“He doesn’t possess the skills needed for this lesson.”

“Oh, well, I have a prior engagement. We’ll have to reschedule.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.”

“Do you recall the bargain we struck in my bedchamber?”

I went to nod when an immense wave of lethargy washed over me, and I suddenly found my head too heavy to move. Wrath’s intense focus homed in on my emotional and physical shift. There was no concern present in his expression, only a hard edge that should have worried me.

And it would have, if I wasn’t in such a horrid state of lassitude.

I couldn’t bring myself to care, or stand, apparently. My legs folded of their own volition and I sank to the ground, crashing in a heap of tangled limbs. My cheek pressed into the thick mat, the fibers scratching and uncomfortable. Still, I didn’t so much as roll over to get comfortable. I didn’t even blink. To my horror, a dribble of saliva worked its way out of the corner of my mouth. I couldn’t care less.

In fact, I found I really didn’t much care for anything. Not even the gleam of victory flashing in Wrath’s eyes as he towered over me.

He strolled around my prone form. “Look at me, Emilia.”

I wanted to, almost more than anything, but energy was too hard to come by. I had nothing left in my reserves to spare. My eyelids drifted shut instead. Despite my undignified position, laying sprawled on the floor, drooling, I couldn’t muster the resolve to—

The slothful feeling snapped, as if it had never been. Anger, all-consuming and red-hot, brought me to my feet a breath later. Rage had my body trembling. Or perhaps it was wrath.

I flung myself at the demon. “I’m going to kill you!”

“Kill? I’m sure you mean kiss.”

Wrath chuckled at my sudden change in temper, then, before I could touch him, the atmosphere once again abruptly shifted. Suddenly, I was no longer trying to get my hands around his throat; I was clawing him closer, wrapping my legs and arms around his body. I wanted him.

Goddess curse me. The need to bed him was overwhelming, the ache unbearable.

I thought I knew desire before in the Crescent Shallows. Nothing came close to this. I could think of nothing else except his hands on me. My hands on him.

In the back of my mind I knew something was terribly wrong. This was exactly what Lust had done to me that night on the beach, but I was unable to focus on anything but my desire.

Our mutual fury would have a perfect outlet in passion, granting us both release as we fought to undress, to out-caress, to make the other come undone. I dragged Wrath’s face close to mine, his eyes flaring with that same desire as I slowly took his bottom lip between my teeth.

“Kiss me.” I left his mouth only to run my tongue and teeth over the side of his neck, tasting and suckling his skin as I brought my lips close to his ear. “I need you.”

“Want, but never need, my lady.” He did not return my pursuit, but his grin was positively sinful as he stepped away from my touch. “In the Sin Corridor, you were tested for envy. I’m curious what got you so incensed. Do you recall what illusion spurred that on?”

My desire evaporated. An image of Wrath engaged in bedding a woman who wasn’t me resurfaced. Once again I saw her legs wrapped around his body, his hips rolling forward with each deep thrust inside her. Instead of her moans, I could now hear his.

A possessive, dark emotion bubbled inside me. I was so jealous of them, I wanted to kill. My blood turned as cold as my tone. “Yes.”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“You and another woman. In bed.”

There was a moment of silence. As if he hadn’t expected that to be the reason. “And how did that make you feel?”

I exhaled, the sound more akin to a growl. “Murderous.”

Wrath slowly began circling me again, his voice quiet, but taunting. “Was that before or after you saw the pleasure she’d given me? The pure ecstasy I felt buried inside her warmth.”

A tear slid down my cheek. I was not sad or even furious. I was now fully consumed by jealousy. Not of the other woman, but of the night of intimacy they’d shared. I wanted that. Wanted Wrath with an intensity that razed all reason from my mind. And that level of envy was almost as overwhelming as the night I first met the prince who ruled over that sin.

Envy had used his influence on me and I’d never forget the iciness of—

Understanding descended in a burst of anger, breaking the spell. “You monstrous beast. You’re using your powers on me!”

“And how easily you succumbed to them.” Wrath’s fury rose to meet mine. “Do you want my brothers to manipulate you? Maybe you wish to become an object for their amusement. Perhaps you will start by being mine. Remove your clothing and dance for my pleasure.”

“You’re a pig.”

“I am much worse than that. But a bargain is a bargain.”

“I did not consent to this bullshit.”

“Lie. You asked me to arm you. Demanded, if I recall correctly. I countered with training you against physical and magical threats. Did you not agree to that?”

“Yes, but—”

“Remove your clothing.”

There was a strange echo of power in his voice. I tried to shove it away, tried fighting it, but felt the pressure building and caving in. I desperately tried to erect an emotional barrier between us, but Wrath would have none of it. Before I could touch the summoning Mark on my neck, his voice rang out clear and strong and filled with dominating power.

“Now.”

The dam broke, and so did my will. My fingers swiftly loosened the buttons and stays of my trousers. I shimmied out of them, allowing the material to pool at my feet. My tunic was gone next. Wrath slid his attention from the top of my head to my toes, and pulled it up as slowly. There was no lust or warmth or appreciation in his gaze. Only anger.

And he wasn’t alone in that feeling. I hated that he’d compelled me to disrobe. Choosing to do so in the Crescent Shallows was powerful, freeing. This was neither of those things. I would make him pay for this. As quickly as my need for revenge flared, it vanished with the next wave of his will.

I went to remove my undergarments, but his voice cut through my haze. “Leave those on. Sway your hips.”

I focused on the single ember of fury that hadn’t been tamped down by Wrath’s magical command. Trying with all of my might to ignite that kernel of emotion that still belonged to me, and use it to swat his magic away. I would be the one to decide when to undress before him or anyone else. I would be the master of my own will. And I would keep fighting for myself, no matter how dire or desperate or futile the situation became.

Sensing my resolve, Wrath unleashed more of his power.

“I said, sway your hips.”

Sentient thought, emotion, and free will were locked deep inside me. All I knew was the sound of his voice, his desire. His will pumped through my veins, dominated me in every sense of the word. Became one with my heart.

I did as he commanded. I became sin and vice. I was lustful. And I adored it.

Swaying suggestively, I kept my attention on him. I wished he’d ask me to remove my undergarments. Then I wished he’d remove his.

Wrath moved closer, his expression a study of cold fury. I could not understand why he was displeased. I erased the remaining distance between us and danced against him, pressing up against his tense body. Something about our position reminded me of another time, another dance. And the same anger that coursed through him at that bonfire.

He was a difficult creature then, and doubly so now.

“Is this not what you desire?”

“Not at all.” He took a large step away, placing a hateful distance between us. “You will address me as master from now on. Drop to your knees.”

“I will never—” Anger flared, then extinguished as quickly. I went to the ground, head bowed. “Does this please you, master?”

“Remove my right boot.”

I undid the laces of his boot, then pulled it off, waiting for his next direction.

“Slide your hands up my to calf.” I reached for his leg and he yanked it back. “Start from the ankle.”

Without hesitation, I dragged my hands up his body, and over the muscle of his calf. My fingers brushed against something hard. I glanced up. “Have I pleased you now, master?”

Wrath reached down to lift my chin, his focus roaming across my face. He was searching for something, but the deep frown indicated he hadn’t found it.

“Learn to protect yourself. That will give me ultimate pleasure.”

With him, I somehow understood the very essence of pleasure. That I could do. I let go of his calf and reached for the band of his trousers. “Let me please you now, master.”

The temperature around us plummeted several degrees.

“If I wanted you on your knees, bare before me, without a thought of your own in your head, I would will it. If I desired to fuck you into our marriage, you’d do exactly as I said. And you’d beg for more. Neither attracts, nor pleases me. I long for an equal. Grab the dagger hidden on my leg. Get up.”

I slid the blade from the leather sheath and pushed myself to my feet, heart sinking at his harsh tone and dismissal of my advances. I reached for his hand, hoping to entice him to take what I was offering. “I—”

Fury, untamed, overwhelming, and all-consuming burned away the lust I’d felt. I gripped the dagger so hard my hand ached. Wrath did not take his attention from mine as he slowly undid the first few buttons of his pristine shirt. “Press the blade to my heart.”

I closed the distance between us, the tip of the dagger pricking his skin. I was now wrathful. I was fury in the flesh. And I would take what was owed to me and mine.

Beginning now. With this hateful prince.

Wrath leaned in, his voice low and seductive. “This is what you dream of. Blood and revenge. Take your vengeance, witch. Recall what I just made you do. How you fell to your knees, begging to please me. Let hatred and your favorite sin consume you.”

“Shut up.”

“Perhaps you liked it when I made you strip. When I bent you to my will.”

“I said shut up!”

“Maybe I should show you how very wicked I can be.”

I stared at his chest, at the blade piercing his skin. A slight trickle of blood rolled down his body. Through the wrath and fury overwhelming my senses, I remembered. I’d taken a blade to his heart before. In the monastery. He’d sworn it would take much more than a dagger to his chest to end him. I’d wanted to test the truth in those words then. He was offering me the chance to do so now. I swallowed hard, my throat bobbing. Unshed tears burned my eyes.

My hand shook, the blade digging in harder as I strained against it.

“Take. Your. Vengeance.”

His demonic influence battled my will. And won.

A tear slipped free as I leaned into the blade, using my upper body weight to shove through muscle and bone. I watched with blazing fury as it slid into his chest. Blood poured from the wound, stained his shirt, made my fingers slick. I didn’t pull it out. I twisted the dagger, gritting my teeth before I screamed loud enough to summon Satan himself.

The demon prince watched impassively as I yanked the blade free and stabbed him again.

And again.

And again.