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“Touch them.” Wrath watched me closely, sensing my mood. “I am able to control my wings. And even if I wasn’t, you’re my wife. They will not burn you; they’ll simply feel warm.”
Tentatively I reached out, curling my fingers through the magical feathers of flame. Wrath was right—it didn’t burn. It was similar to placing a hand in a warm patch of sunlight, soaking in the rays. Or running my fingers through the water of a summer sea.
This, at least, was like my magic. Comforting, yet capable of massive destruction. Even though the power wasn’t mine, it felt like some small part of me carried on in him.
“The wings depicted in your throne room are ebony,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see these.”
“I’d had the stained glass changed to what I’d last seen.”
I thought of the scene I’d witnessed from Sursea’s memory stone—of how the wings had turned the color of ash when she’d drained away his magic. I was glad we’d won. That we’d defeated someone so driven by hate through the power of our love.
My lips tugged upward as I stroked another feather and the flames teasingly fluttered against my skin. I dragged another finger along the outer edge of his wing, and the same sensation rolled down my back. My attention shot to my husband, immediately noting the devious expression he wore.
“What was that?” I asked as heat slid down my spine, similar to a feather lightly caressing me. My skin tingled pleasantly for another few seconds where the magical feather had touched.
“I might have forgotten to mention an ability I’d lost when my fire magic was taken.”
Another feather of honeyed heat meandered along my neck, gliding across my collarbone before descending to lovingly stroke the wound the Blade of Ruination caused.
The feather slowly spread outward, tracing circles along my breast. Any lingering hollowness or grief dissipated as the flicker of heat rolled across the tight bud, causing a new warmth to unfurl from my belly downward.
“Devil curse me.” My fingers dug into Wrath’s shoulders as that wicked bead of delight moved to my hips, then curled around my inner thighs.
“I’d rather not, my lady. I’ve had enough of curses.” Wrath’s chuckle was deep and sensual as that feather fluttered against my thigh and I swore under my breath. “Lust isn’t the only one who can manifest desire. Only this isn’t yours.” He nipped at my earlobe before kissing the sting away. “It’smine.”
What had begun as a gentle, featherlike feeling turned into a finger of heat. Wrath grinned as he walked us back toward a shelf of books, slowly pinning my arms above my head. His glorious wings spread wide, covering us in our own private, fiery blanket of white-hot passion.
He bent until his lips brushed my ear. “Would you like to see what sinful things I can do with them, my lady?”
TWENTY-SIX
Heat pulsed betweenmy thighs. Wrath’s magic was as soft as velvet as it gently stroked me, waiting for an answer. Taking a dagger to the chest rapidly faded from my mind, thanks in part to the quick healing of my immortality and the exquisite caresses from my prince. Instead of dwelling on the loss of my magic, I focused on my husband and the wicked gleam in his eyes, the seductive privacy his curtain of wings provided, and all the things we could do right here.
My attention dropped to his full lips while I vividly imagined the interesting places we might make love, the positions. Losing my magic hurt deeply, but suddenly picturing Wrath and me joining high above our realm, among the moon and stars, tooksomeof the sting away.
If I searched hard enough, I would still find magic in everyday things. And making love to the king of demons among the stars was hardly average. The curse was broken, and there were no limits to what we could achieve together. I eyed the manacles hanging from the ceiling in the alcove, and new, devious thoughts flooded in.
“I can’t tell exactly what you’re thinking, but I can sense what you’re feeling now.” He kissed up the column of my throat, and my eyes fluttered shut. Wrath knew exactly where to touch to drive me wild with need. “If you want me, say the words, my lady.” He traced the bare flesh along my bodice, his caress a seduction of its own. “My queen.” He dipped his head, and where his clever fingers had just touched, he now used his tongue. “My love.”
His mouth closed over my breast, and my breath caught from his words and the way he drew on my flesh, sucking and teasing over my clothing.
“I want you, Samael.”
I’d only just finished whispering my consent when Wrath’s heated magic unleashed itself. That soft, decadent, featherlike stroking moved across my sex, teasing my flesh until I chased the sensation building inside me. Another feather of heat licked my breasts, replacing Wrath’s mouth as my husband leisurely kissed me.
With my hands still pinned above my head and Wrath’s tongue in my mouth, his magic caressed me everywhere at once. Pleasure rocketed through me, electrifying each nerve as the demon intensified his magic, feeding more of his power to those phantom fingers of ecstasy.
Wrath had called himself His Royal Highness of Undeniable Desire, and I’d thought I’d tasted that level of seduction before. But nothing,nothing, compared with this.
Not Lust’s magic or Greed’s. Gluttony’s sinful party and witnessing couples lost in the throes of pure rapture—none of it held a candle to the magnitude of Wrath’s… love.
It wasn’t simply the magic he was using to enhance my pleasure, nor was it the immense power he had. It was the attention and care he used, the unending desire to please me, to satisfy the person he loved in every way imaginable, that heightened the experience. Wrath’s desire to show his love for me far outweighed any baser wanting of my body. He wanted that, too, but it was my heart he yearned for above all else. My mind and my soul. Just as I wanted his.
Wrath’s magic slipped inside me, the sensation a glorious mixture of hot kisses and deep thrusts that filled and stretched me, perfectly synchronized to each flick of his tongue against mine. All the while that magic heat lathed my breasts until they grew heavy with need. Wrath kissed me harder, grinding his hips against mine, his erection hitting all the right places. I writhed against him, searching for release.
“Wrath.”
I didn’t have to elaborate. In a thrilling motion, my husband banded an arm around me and flew us the short distance to his desk. With one wing, he cleared journals and pots of ink from the surface before laying me down on it. A beat later, his trousers were off, and he towered above me, looking like a brutally handsome god. The demon prince didn’t rip off my gown like his expression hinted he wished to; he slid it up my body as he moved over me.
