Throne of the Fallen

They’d made love on the throne every night: fingers, tongue, cock. And he wanted more. Forever. And since she wasn’t human, they had all that time and more.

For the first time in his long existence, he wanted to experience everything with another.

More laughter, more quiet moments, more midnight snacks, strawberries dipped in chocolate, the two of them sprawled in front of the fire, talking of art.

More games and bringing out each other’s human aspects that hadn’t existed before.

More walking the hallways of House Envy, rearranging paintings and sculptures based on what she preferred. When they could manage not to tear each other’s clothes off, they moved some of her art from Waverly Green, combining their collections.

It wasn’t enough. Envy wanted more still.

More running his fingers through her soft hair, watching her drift off to sleep, her face peaceful. Those full lips parted in dreamy contentment.

More games to play—and he was delighted he didn’t even know what they’d be yet.

Envy would remake worlds for her. Would break every rule to make her smile. He’d—

“Are you even listening?” Gluttony waved a hand in front of his face, shaking his head in disgust. “Witches’ tits. You’re worse than he is. He jabbed his thumb in Wrath’s direction. And he’s abhorrently in love. Look at him. He’s making doe-eyes at Emilia right here.”

The demon of war bared his teeth, his smile feral, so at odds with his finely made suit.

“One day you’re going to gorge yourself on those words, brother.” Wrath’s voice was laced with dark promise.

Gluttony snorted, the sound filled with derision.

The reporter he was feuding with hadn’t responded to the invitation Envy had sent, and he was sure Gluttony’s foul mood had nothing to do with that.

“Don’t count on it,” Gluttony said. “I bet Lust will be next.”

“Not a fucking chance in any of the realms combined. Where’s Sloth?” Lust asked. “Maybe he’ll make a chart and line up all the variables for me. I cannot fathom how you’re all content to bed the same person for the rest of your days.”

He shivered.

“Sloth went to find Pride,” Wrath said, gaze landing back on his wife. “I saw a book in his jacket, though.”

“Of fucking course.” Lust groaned. “I’ll see where he’s hiding. If he doesn’t start acting like a gods-damned demon, we’re all going to get bad reputations.” He jabbed a finger into Wrath’s chest. “You need to lay down a law or something.”

Wrath’s gold eyes glittered. “First rule? Don’t touch me again.”

“Don’t kill each other in this room,” Envy said. “I just had the floors waxed.”

He’d had the entire House scrubbed of any evidence of how close the court had come to falling. Looking at it now, no one would ever suspect they’d been on the brink of collapse.

Gluttony glanced around, brows knitted. “Where’s Greed?”

“There was an issue at his gaming hell,” Envy said. “He sent his regrets.”

Gluttony snorted. “I’m sure he did. Prick.”

Wrath and Gluttony began debating about boxing, and Envy took that as his cue to leave.

He strode down the corridor, walking to where Pride lounged in a chair he’d pilfered, his crown tilted to one side. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing corded muscle, his shirt half untucked from his trousers.

His head was tilted all the way back, his eyes closed. An empty glass hung from his fingers. Pride played the role of debauched prince so well, Envy wondered if he’d finally become that.

He stood over his brother, then kicked Pride’s boot, drawing his gaze.

It was slow, unfocused.

“Party over, Levi?”

Envy noticed the rest of the empty bottles, the broken wineglasses. They’d been shoved into the alcove beside him.

This time Pride wasn’t pretending to be the drunken royal.

“What happened?” Envy demanded.

Pride lifted a shoulder, dropping it as if he couldn’t be bothered to respond or care.

Envy kicked him harder. “Answer the damn question, Luc.”

“Sursea won’t tell me anything.”

The First Witch, Pride’s consort’s mother, had cursed them all when Pride and Lucia wed and then refused to dissolve their relationship. Witches and demons were sworn enemies, but that didn’t stop Pride from falling in love with the one witch he shouldn’t have. Lucia was strictly off-limits, but they chose each other, despite all the reasons they shouldn’t have.

One day, Lucia left House Pride without a word. Pride didn’t know if she’d been taken against her will, imprisoned somewhere, or given a True Death. He’d been searching ever since, even when the First Witch cursed them all, keeping them trapped in the Seven Circles for years. She’d done something worse to Pride before that, though, something he refused to speak of. Envy knew it had been the true root of the miscommunication between Pride and Lucia.

None of the demons felt anything but hatred for Sursea and her quest for vengeance.

“How convincing were you?” Envy asked.

Pride gave him a withering glare. “She knows where my wife is. Knows what happened. Do you think I showed any mercy?”