Throne of the Fallen

“I realized I would be lying. I’m not remotely sorry.”

“For which part?”

Curse her. That was not the question she’d intended to ask.

“You know which part.”

“That’s not the way this is supposed to work.”

“Do you want me to suddenly play by the rules?”

He knew she didn’t, the damn beast. His smile was victorious. He hadn’t come here to apologize at all; Envy had come here to restart their flirtation, to up the stakes once again.

“Were you to say the words, I’d have you out of that tub and on the bed this instant.” His voice was sin incarnate.

He continued, more slowly now, taking another step into the room.

“As an artist, I’m sure you can envision my tongue on the canvas of your bare body. I imagine we could make quite the masterpiece together. If you don’t forfeit now.”

Camilla’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay calm. “You have no morals.”

“True. But yours are as gray in tone as mine, my dear.”

“That’s hardly true.”

“What a cunning little liar you are.”

She was indeed.

“What is the second thing that brought you here?” she asked. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in this again, no matter how aroused she was feeling in the bath.

Heat kissed her cheeks that had nothing to do with the warm water.

He smiled, noticing her pinkened skin. “Thinking about my tongue, Miss Antonius?”

Camilla’s thighs squeezed together.

“No. I’m thinking of dinner.”

His attention moved to the bathwater, rippling from the subtle movement.

Hunger flashed in his eyes.

“Lie to me all you like, Camilla. But this isn’t over yet, and you know it. When you’re in bed tonight, fingers trailing over your deliciously swollen clit, you’ll be dreaming of my hand doling out your pleasure.”

Before she could argue, the damned demon gave her a mocking bow, then left.

Frustrated and highly aroused, Camilla slipped her hand beneath the water, doing exactly what the prince had said.

As she came, she made sure her moans were loud enough for the demon to hear across the cottage, hoping to drive him as wild as he’d driven her.

FORTY-EIGHT

WHAT HAPPENED IN the vampire court once I left?” Envy had his back to Alexei as he asked, attention fixed on the cocktail he swirled in one hand.

It was well past the hour he should have retrieved Camilla for their dinner, far past when he should have checked on his court, too.

He’d made no move to leave the cottage.

He’d felt victorious after leaving Camilla aroused in the tub until he heard her orgasm through the walls. She’d knocked him clear off his high horse with that move. He’d grabbed some oil, fisted his aching cock, and stroked himself to orgasm while envisioning her.

“How many tried to take Blade’s throne?”

“Two heirs, Your Highness.” Alexei sounded amused. “Their heads are on spikes. One outside the throne room, the other outside Blade’s bedchamber. With a warning that he’s always watching.”

“Brazen, bold. A bit dramatic.” Envy snorted. “Glad to see Blade is taking to the role as expected.” He turned. Alexei cocked his head. “No clues, then?”

His second shook his head and didn’t elaborate. With a tight nod, Envy dismissed him.

He went back to considering his drink, playing over the encounter with Wolf.

Envy did not believe in coincidences.

The world was far too vast, the realms too plentiful, for anything to be random. Especially while a game was in play. Somewhere, buried in the seemingly random interaction, had to be the next clue.

There was no other good reason for Wolf to risk entering demon grounds uninvited. And the fact that he’d once been Unseelie nobility added to the possibility that Lennox had used him to deliver the next riddle. Of course, Envy couldn’t stop his mind from spinning with farfetched theories about how Camilla had responded when she’d seen the Fae, too. Envy had scrutinized Wolf, wondering if he’d been the male Camilla had shown him in that memory.

He gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t be thinking about that cursed memory still, but his sin needed an outlet, and feeling envy brought his senses into sharp focus.

Envy tried to use that now. He focused on the very first words the Unseelie had spoken, arranging and rearranging them a hundred ways.

Rumors abound.

It was a throwaway answer, given casually. The fact that it had been the gossip-column headline made it almost innocent, something easily overlooked. So of course, he was suspicious.

If it was an anagram, there were several possibilities.

O, absurd on rum.

Sob around rum.

Armor bound us.

A mob surround.

He was getting nowhere.

Absurd on rum could be Gluttony, he supposed. He’d probably sob after imbibing too much liquor too, especially if the reporter bested him again in a battle of wits. Armor bound us, perhaps Wrath, the war-seeking deviant. A mob surround might speak of Pride.

Previous clues had left Envy feeling certain of what he was after. None of these clicked into place as soundly, felt as right.