“We will not get through it like that. I want your heart, Samael. I want your love without spells and tinctures keeping it locked away. Only having half of you is a curse, too. We both deserve more. We deserve true happiness. Happiness without chains or restrictions or strings attached to it. No matter the sins of our past, we do not deserve to be punished for eternity. Your only crime was helping your brother and his wife make their own choice. Now you must give up love? For what? A hateful witch’s vengeance? I will not accept that. I cannot. You ought to give your heart to whomever you choose, whenever and however you choose to give it.”
“That might never happen.” Wrath’s tone wasn’t harsh or unkind. There was a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. “So decide now, before we complete our bond, if this—what we have right now—will be good enough for you. If I cannot love you, if I cannot offer you my heart in return, you need to decide if that’s something you can live with. If you cannot…”
Wrath would walk away; he’d set me free even if it crushed him.
“That’s why you haven’t brought up completing our bond before.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d hoped to find a way to break the curse before we had to have this discussion.”
Silence fell between us again.
The fire crackled, its excitement over our combined anger feeding the flames. I wasn’t upset with Wrath. I understood why he’d crafted a secondary strategy in the event the curse remained intact. That showed his love even when he couldn’t express it. But I was greedy. I wanted it all. All of him. The good parts and the bad and every piece and part in between.
Having him love me in half measures was a miserable fate for both of us.
I stood and crawled onto his lap, resting my head against his heart. “In the Well of Memory… I found a way to break the curse.” Wrath stiffened beneath me. “I need to leave to accomplish it, and I need you to remain here.”
He rubbed a hand up and down my spine. “You don’t sound happy.”
I sensed he wanted to ask more, but he’d already figured out I’d shared all I could. I nestled against him, taking the comfort he was offering and wrapping it around me like the sweetest sort of embrace. “I might have to hurt someone I care about. Someone that doesn’t deserve an ounce of pain.”
Wrath kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t tell me to find another way, because there wasn’t one. He didn’t offer to stand in my place, because he knew I needed to be the one to do it. There were no words of comfort, because I had to do something I hated to free us.
Wrath carefully tilted my face up to his, his gaze penetrating enough to stare into my soul if I allowed him to. When he brought his lips to mine, he unleashed all the things that were pointless to say and communicated all our hopes and sorrow without words.
Before I knew what was happening, Wrath used his supernatural strength and speed to maneuver us onto the plush carpet. He lay beneath me, holding me above his face, and flashed a devilish grin that had my toes curling from its sinful intent. I might have been the one on top, gazing down into his seductive eyes, but he was in control now.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “We don’t have time…”
“The world could end before we know it. And I have my own fantasies to live out, my lady. If you’re willing to indulge?”
I understood his need for a connection. To feel something other than fear or our sins as we raced to a finish line we weren’t sure was close by. I needed him, too. He might not be able to tell me he loved me, but he could certainly show me. I nodded. “I’m happy to oblige.”
“Thank fuck.” He lowered me so that my knees were on either side of his head, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles on my hips. Wrath lifted my skirts and parted my lacy undergarments, slowly dragging a finger over the slickness waiting for him.
“Is this a new lesson in conquering or surrender?” I managed to ask as his finger dipped inside, then curled ever so gently. I swore as he repeated the motion with a second finger, stretching me. He withdrew his fingers, then pushed them back in, pumping slowly.
“You tell me, my lady.”
“I—goddess curse me.”
Wrath ripped my undergarments off, then brought his mouth to my body, licking hard and deep. I jerked forward, gripping the chair as each flick of his tongue threatened to topple me over. He pulled my hips forward, then pushed back, never once removing his mouth from me.
Holding my gaze, he repeated the action, and I knew what he was requesting without words. And who was I to deny him or myself the pleasure?
I rocked forward, and the demon rewarded me with a satisfied growl that vibrated over my most sensitive area. My cursed skirts fell over him, hiding him from view.
I slowly released the chair and ripped off the lower portion of the gown, earning an amused look from my husband. I braced one hand behind me on his thigh, and the other I tangled into his hair, pulling it until he was angled just right. With my gown out of the way, I could see him and his wicked gaze much better.
Unadulterated hunger crossed his features. “Tug it harder, my lady.”
“Heathen.”
“My dark angel.” Wrath wrapped his arms around me and feasted as I set the pace. His tongue plundered, making my body clench around it until I thought I’d go mad from the feeling. I yanked his hair even harder and rocked against him, my head thrown back. Wrath plunged a finger in with his clever tongue and set a rhythm that had me seeing stars. I came with reckless abandon, moaning his true name as a shock of pleasure bolted through me. Before I’d fully come down, I broke apart again, calling his name like a plea or a curse. Only when my legs started trembling from the aftershocks did the demon press a chaste kiss to my inner thigh. The light caress set my blood on fire again.
What we shared wasn’t nearly enough. But time was our enemy at the moment, and I’d already lost too much. My husband saw the indecision in my face, and I saw the yearning in his. We needed this. Even if it meant I had less time to get the blade, I’d make it work. I moved down his body and guided his thick length into me.
Wrath laced his hands with mine, and together we soon fell over that glorious edge, reminding ourselves what we were fighting so hard for. Love.
TWENTY-FOUR
Domenico snarled when I summoned him. “Do I look like your personal carriage?”
“No. But you will look like a new fur rug if you don’t stop complaining,” I said sweetly.
“You’re not as fun as your sister.”
“Perhaps not to you. But I am as deadly, and unlike Vittoria, if I kill you, you won’t come back. I can’t do that demonic hand trick.” I wriggled my fingers at him. “Let’s move.”
The werewolf made a disgusted noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter, then he sank his claws into my arms and stepped into the glittering portal. The gates were still locked from the outside, but traveling by shifter was actually best. Wrath couldn’t transvenio, and even if he could, I didn’t want him to know where I was going. He might suspect I was heading to my version of the Shifting Isles now, but I didn’t want to confirm anything.
If Pride found out that Lucia lived, I had little doubt he would come for her. Seeing Lucia’s memories offered only one side of their story, but as with most tales, I suspected there was much more. If Pride cared for her half as much as Wrath cared for me, then he’d tear the realm apart to make sure she was safe.
And if Wrath had been correct, if Pride had never truly fallen for anyone other than his wife—and it had all been a terrible misunderstanding based on their shared pride—I could only imagine how hard he’d fight to win her back.
When I’d first encountered Pride before the Feast of the Wolf, he’d been growing slumber root and patrolling his grounds with an army none of his brothers knew about. I’d been worried he’d been plotting against Wrath, but now I wondered if he’d been training his guards for other purposes. Perhaps he’d been preparing to fight for his missing wife since she first disappeared.