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His voice was unearthly. Pleasure mixed with pain. I was enraptured and terrified. Ice prickled my arm. The same insistent feeling that kept haunting me. It dulled my emotions long enough for me to fully grasp the horror of what was happening. What he was doing.
Lust was using his influence on me. And it was worse than Envy by far. He made me feel so good, so happy, I forgot who I was. What I wanted. And what I hated above all. Or maybe I didn’t entirely forget my hatred, but I certainly didn’t care. Passionate flames razed my conscious thought, and I was once again gripped by pure animalistic need. I had a lust for life, for fun, for…
The demon prince circled me. He wore an unbuttoned, silver suit jacket—without a shirt—and matching trousers that hung so low on his hips, I could die. A circlet of flames sat on his head. His eyes were charcoal. Penetrating. In them I saw a bottomless pool of desire. I wanted to tear off my clothes and dive in.
I started moving toward him, but someone grabbed me around the waist. I stopped trying to escape, focusing instead on the warmth behind me. The solid frame. The power. I’d almost forgotten how much I wanted him.
Lust must have sensed my shifting emotions. He looked from me to his brother, his expression indescribable. He started speaking, but I was distracted by too many sensations. His voice, the warm breeze, the scent of Wrath, and the friction of his strong arms as he held me in place. Lust kept talking. My mind tried to focus on his words, not the shape of his lips.
He stepped close to where we stood. Wrath’s arms were bands of steel around me. “Do you know what that means, witch?” I drew my brows together. His smile was crafted of beautiful nightmares. “Go, dance. Enjoy the party. This is a practice round before the Feast of the Wolf.”
A familiar scent wafted toward me, beckoning. Lavender and white sage. Vittoria! She was here… if I left to go dancing I’d find—
Stop, the same voice whispered in the back of my head. It was a trick. Vittoria was dead.
“No.”
I was as startled by my refusal as Lust was. His expression turned from desire to fury.
He snapped his fingers and his influence over me vanished. My knees buckled. If Wrath wasn’t holding me, I would have fallen. All the happiness and bliss I’d felt were ripped away, leaving me hollow and trembling. Terror coursed through me. What he’d done… the things I’d felt. I wanted to claw my skin off. Or maybe I wanted to sink my nails into him, the creature who’d violated my emotions. Who made me forget and want things I should fear. The wine I’d had suddenly made a reappearance; I bent over, hurling everything up. Wrath didn’t let go.
“Why are you here?” Wrath’s voice was quiet, low. A chill slid down my spine.
“To deliver a message, dear brother. You’re needed at home. Immediately.” His gaze cut to me. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch over your little friend. I have much to tell her. Stories of demons and witches. Villains and heroes. Curses and a king’s vengeance.”
“No.” My fingers dug into Wrath’s forearm. “P-please.”
I don’t know if it was the way my voice broke, or if he’d been waiting for an opportunity for his own reasons, but one secon
d Wrath had me in his arms, and the next I was behind him and his blade was buried deep in Lust’s chest. Bones crunched. He twisted the dagger up, dark blood poured from the wound.
“Don’t come back here again. I’ll go home when I’m ready.” He yanked the dagger out, wiped it across his pants. And waited. “See you in Hell, brother.”
I wasn’t sure what disturbed me more—the cold indifference on Wrath’s face as he watched his brother die, or the brutal efficiency of the attack.
I knew he was dangerous, but seeing it…
Lust coughed, glanced down at his mortal wound. And was suddenly gone. As in, vanished completely from sight, like he’d never been here.
I collapsed on the beach, staring at the space the demonic prince once occupied. Tears streamed down my face. I heaved again and Wrath watched impassively. After I stopped retching, he knelt beside me. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. “Is he dead?”
“No. Being struck with a House blade only severs ties to this realm. He’s back in the kingdom, and won’t be able to use his powers for a while.”
A small blessing amidst the curse. “Good.”
Wrath handed me a cloth to wipe my face. I don’t know where he pulled it from, and I didn’t care. “Lust takes the pleasant emotions you have and inflates them. You might experience a void now. Picture it like a well—his influence rapidly depletes the supply. Where you were once blissfully happy, you’ll feel a sharp contrast. It is a hell in its own way. Giving someone ultimate pleasure, only to rip it from them before they fully grasp it. Done often enough, it drives mortals mad. You should be all right soon enough, though.”
“He wouldn’t have…” I fisted my hands at my side. “Made me…”
Wrath shook his head. “No.”
“But I felt—there were invisible hands.” I also didn’t forget how hard I’d been trying to take my clothes off in front of Wrath. Or how much I’d wanted him to touch me.
“Manifestations of your desire. They were a part of you, not anyone or anything else.”
There was little comfort in that. Lust might not have violated me physically, but the emotional manipulation was equally bad. He’d twisted goodness until it was cloaked in evil. Wrath was right. It did feel like I’d crashed—like I’d been soaring, and the wind abruptly stopped and I was plunged into the frigid sea depths below. A vast abyss of nothing swallowed me.
I wanted to curl up on the ground, and sleep for eternity. I didn’t care about the curse. Or the nagging feeling I’d learned something important. I no longer worried about my sister’s murder. Or vengeance. Nothing mattered anymore.
