Everything spun wildly—like the few times I’d mistakenly had too much wine with Claudia and Vittoria. I staggered back down the tunnel and collapsed under the grate I’d snuck in through. Escape was so close, yet impossibly far. I needed to gather my strength and drag myself up; and vowed to do just that . . .
. . . once my head stopped spinning and the nausea passed.
A soft thud landed near me, followed by a series of exquisitely foul curses. If I wasn’t convinced opening my mouth would bring on the vomit I was barely suppressing, I’d have laughed over the colorful litany. I couldn’t exactly remember his name at the moment, but I recalled he wasn’t normally prone to such outbursts. For some reason, the situation struck me as funny when it was anything but.
My head suddenly ached—the pain sharp and vicious. It felt like a thousand needles were pricking my brain simultaneously. I groaned, which only made it worse.
“Where are you hurt?” His voice was too loud. I batted him away, but he was an annoyingly persistent devil. “Focus! Did it bite you, witch?”
“Stop.”
Fingers probed my skull, my throat, then hesitated at my neckline. Somehow I’d managed to loop the cornicello over my head. He rolled me onto my side, and I nearly passed out from the next wave of agony. He clearly didn’t care about my pain and suffering. Maybe he enjoyed it. I vaguely recalled hating him. Now I knew why.
He paused for less than a heartbeat, then the sound of fabric tearing was followed by a blast of ice down my back. Air battered against my ripped flesh, the pain absolutely blinding in its fury. I think I might have screamed.
“Shit.”
Two solid arms hoisted me up, caging me against a body that had to be made of steel, not muscle and bone. We started moving swiftly, his steps fluid and graceful. Which was a good thing—if he bounced while running, I’d throw up all over him. I didn’t think he’d like that.
Wind whipped at my hair—we were traveling at an impossible speed through city streets. I made the mistake of looking at buildings flashing by once, and instantly regretted it. I nestled against his warm chest and squeezed my eyes shut. Pain was all I knew.
“We’re almost there.”
My teeth chattered uncontrollably. I had no idea where there was, but hoped it had blankets and a fire. A coldness was spreading through me, all-consuming and terrible. I had the worst feeling I’d never know the comfort of warmth again. Which was strange, since I thought the day had been especially hot. Icy numbness slowly spread up my legs. A door clattered open, then slammed shut. It felt like we ran up a set of stairs and then I was laid onto a soft mattress.
Shouts rang out around me. Muffled voices were hard to distinguish. Water splashing into a basin overtook my senses, followed by the unmistakable scent of smoke. I thrashed. Somewhere, deep in my memory, I knew what the smoke meant. Danger.
“Don’t worry.” Another voice. Male. Unfamiliar. “He knows what to do and will be back soon.” Blankets tucked me in so tightly, I could barely breathe. I must have gasped; warm hands were on my forehead. “Shhh. Don’t struggle. It makes the venom spread faster.”
Time narrowed into the smallest fraction of itself. I knew nothing but random seconds, and unrelenting agony. My heartbeat was so loud, it made my head pound. Moments passed. Pain persisted. Then a crackling fire, the scent of smoke, and he was back, prying my eyes open.
“I’ll fix this. But you have to grant me permission. Do you?”
I tried to nod, but could barely move. He crouched beside me, placed his hands on either side of my head, and repeated the question. He must have felt the nearly imperceptible movement this time—before the next wave of pain struck, he was a blur of action.
“Watch the perimeter and do not interrupt us, no matter what,” he barked at someone I couldn’t see. Panic set in again. Perimeter? Was I in Hell? He scooped me up, a door shut behind us, and his voice turned noticeably gentler. “I need to get us both into the water, all right?”
I tried to say yes, but the numbness spread to my throat. I think he saw the answer in my face anyway. It sounded like he whispered, “Live long enough to hate me for this.”
The next thing I felt was warmth—like I was floating on a cloud near the sun. Words in a language I didn’t understand were spoken at my ear. Lips brushed against my skin, one of the last pleasant sensations I experienced before darkness closed in.
“Drink.”
I wanted to, more than anything, but couldn’t. He tilted my head back, parted my lips and poured nectar down my throat. I tried thrashing against the cloying taste of it, so sweet and thick that I almost choked, but I’d long since lost the ability to move on my own.
A tear slipped down my cheek and strong fingers brushed it away. Water splashed. A different kind of warmth encompassed me. Soft, gentle lips met mine. It was a whisper, a promise, an unbreakable vow. It shattered the pain and felt like home. I think I wanted more, but was denied. He quietly chanted, his words foreign.
Brilliant light flashed and then my true hell began.
A soft sound roused me from the worst dream I’d ever had. I cracked an eye and kept my breathing deep and even. I was soaking in a tub. For a second, I had no idea how I’d gotten here.
Then flashes came to me. I couldn’t tell if they were dreams or memories.
A metallic snake inked onto an arm banded around my body—not in possession, but solidarity. Like Wrath had followed me into my nightmare, battled Death, and dragged me out.
At some point, I thought his tongue flicked over my jugular, tracing an invisible S along my skin. I remembered the feeling of every nerve ending, every molecule sizzling, instantly attuned to where I wanted those lips to move next. I swore I still felt heat lingering from the brief contact. I was surprised that I didn’t hate it.
I squeezed my eyes shut as more images resurfaced. A giant serpent. A deadly fight. Fangs. Blood. My grandmother’s neck, slashed. Drinking something thicker than honey and so saccharine, I had to gag it down. Strange words spoken fervently. A kiss followed by a blinding spark.
Then the nightmares began.
Demons screeching, claws scraping, an unfamiliar woman with midnight eyes and fire in her soul, cursing me. A city of fire and ice. An obsidian throne room. A crown forged of flames and smoke. Enormous gates crafted from bone and leathery wings, bursting open. Betrayal.
I shoved the dream from my mind and focused on my surroundings, then promptly wished I hadn’t. I vaguely recalled the sensation of warm, wet-slicked skin against mine. Muscular legs. The feeling of complete safety. I didn’t know if that was real or imagined, either.
I closed my eyes again and silently counted until my pulse slowed. It took a second, but I realized my wound was completely healed.
Wrath had worked an enormously powerful spell. I felt recharged, almost buzzing with excess energy. I’d been an empty vessel before being poured beyond capacity with life. I wanted to jump up and dance, or fight, or make love. Maybe all at once.
To avoid thinking about forbidden kisses while I was naked, I concentrated on the room. I was in a bathing chamber that was ornate yet shabby. The chipped marble tub was beautiful, white with veins of gold. Mosaic tiles covered the walls, depicting winged creatures and fields of flowers.
A slight rustle from the corner to my left caught my attention. Wrath stood with his back to me, as if offering a bit of privacy. Rivulets dripped off the planes of his tanned upper body. His very toned and naked upper body. Goddess above, he needed to put a shirt on. Immediately.
Until he did, I stole a peek at the ink I’d seen in the cave the first night I’d summoned him. Shimmering gold and charcoal tattoos crossed from shoulder to shoulder. They appeared to be lines of Latin, but I was too far away to be sure. I swallowed hard and averted my focus. It looked like he’d gotten out of the tub moments before I’d awakened. Those foggy bits from last night were definitely memories then, not dreams. My face heated. He probably already figured out I was awake and was waiting for me to say something. This was . . . painfully awkward.
Not wanting to delay the inevitable, I cleared my throat. He rotated until we were face-to-face. Tousled damp hair made him appear almost human, but the energy radiating around him shattered the illusion. It was like soaking in a tub while lightning struck perilously close by. He was alert and looked like he had been for quite some time. It was strange, seeing him outside of the summoning circle. Stranger still that he’d saved me. I wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything. I settled against the side of the tub and took a deep breath.
Despite his proclamation about not coming for me, he didn’t let me die.
I don’t know what powers he’d invoked to bring me back from the edge of death, but he’d given all he had. And I didn’t think my protection charm was the only reason he’d helped me. I’d felt something last night, more intimate than if we’d shared a bed. For one strangely long second, I swore we’d been inside each other’s minds. What I saw there, deep where he couldn’t hide it, wasn’t simple hatred he felt toward me. It was much more complex.
Light filtered in from an arched window with no coverings, accentuating the chiseled angles of his face. If I didn’t know exactly what he was, I might mistake him for an angel. Which, in a way, I supposed he was. I wondered what he’d done that was evil enough to be cast out of heaven. I didn’t ask. I doubted he’d confess his sins.
His focus roved over my features, his expression unreadable. I fought a chill.
“I had these . . . dreams,” I said slowly. “Or memories. Maybe both. You used powerful magic last night.” I watched him carefully. He didn’t move or break eye contact. For a horrible second, I wondered if he’d gone catatonic. Then he cocked his head, waiting. “Before I went after the Viperidae, you said there was a great cost for an antidote.”
I glanced down at the water. I remembered the way we’d been sitting—his legs and arms and body flush against mine . . . I’d seen illustrations before. Only a few ancient rituals required bare skin contact—in essence, they were a rebirth of sorts. Like he’d transferred some of his power to me, using water as a conductor between our flesh. None of the rituals were to be taken lightly. I wasn’t sure if his magic was the same as a witch’s, but figured it was close.
I flicked my attention back to his. “What was your price for saving me?”
The temperature seemed to plummet. He held my gaze as he slowly crossed the room. Unyielding anger shone in those golden eyes. “You should be more concerned with the price you had to pay. I hope it was worth it.”
He turned to leave. Before he could, I hopped up from the water and blocked his retreat. “You can’t say that and just go. What was the price?”
“Would you really like to have this conversation in the bath?”
“Why not? Suddenly feeling shy?”
He exuded the opposite of shyness. Honestly, with a body like that and all of that power, I wasn’t surprised by his confidence. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. Up close, the gold snake tattooed on his arm was breathtaking. “You want to talk, witch. I’ll start. You made a choice last night that had catastrophic consequences. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be dead.”
It was annoyingly true. “Getting my sister’s amulet back was worth whatever it cost me. And if I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”
“Which proves you’re either reckless, or foolish, or both.”
“If I’m so foolish and reckless, why save me?” I held up a hand. “Spare me from the protection charm excuse. You and I both know that’s not the whole truth.” He opened his mouth and I cut him off again. “I don’t know the exact spell you used, but I know enough of certain rituals and their requirements that I have a pretty good guess. Tell me why you saved me. Now.”
He arched a brow. “Do you have any more demands, your highness? Or may I go?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Did you use a rebirth spell on me?” He shook his head. “Then why weren’t we wearing clothes?”
A smile slowly tugged at the corners of his mouth. His expression resembled that of an immensely pleased yet smug male. “Because you ripped mine off like a hell beast in heat.” I shot him a dirty look. He blew out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Since he couldn’t lie to me, it had to be true enough for him to say it. I rolled my eyes. I’d been clearly out of my mind, and I told him as much. “Also, because the Viperidae inject venom that acts like ice, we needed to reverse the effects quickly. Body heat and hot water were the most efficient and quick ways to prevent hypothermia from killing you.”
It was true. But I also heard him whispering in that strange language. Wrath wasn’t lying, but he was keeping secrets. “You kissed me.”
He abruptly looked away. “Fever dreams have peculiar side effects.”
I grinned. I might not know the full spell, but I knew the chaste kiss was part of whatever magic he’d summoned. He probably neither wanted to, nor had much of a choice in the matter.
But I’m glad he suffered through it, or else I’d be dead.
When I’d found myself inside his head last night, his expression wasn’t one of love, but fear. That, despite his best efforts, I was a splinter slowly burrowing under his immortal skin, and one day I might travel deeply enough to pierce his stone heart. He wouldn’t be wrong.
No matter if he sacrificed some small portion of his power to save me, I’d never forget who he really was. He was a self-centered demon with a mission to protect his own world using any means necessary. He didn’t really care about this realm, or the witches who’d been murdered. His focus was on what it all meant for him. The fear I saw in his heart had nothing to do with me, personally, but what emotional entanglements represented in general. Death.
As in death of all he was and chose to be.
Princes of Hell were loyal to none but themselves. Wrath would take an enemy to his bed in an instant if it meant garnering information or power. And I doubted he’d loathe it.
I moved until we were nearly touching. He didn’t back away, but he didn’t reach for me, either. His behavior had nothing to do with goodness, or blossoming friendship, or even lust, and everything to do with gain. I just didn’t yet understand how or why he needed me alive.
But I would do everything I could to find out what his true goals were.
His attention slipped to my mouth. There wasn’t anything kind or sweet in his gaze. In fact, there was hardly anything soft in it at all. Sometimes when he looked at me, I swore I sensed a beast hiding beneath the mask of skin he wore. It was restless, feral. I had a feeling he kept the monster locked away, but it was never far. I fought a shudder. I didn’t ever want to be around when he decided to let his inner animal out of its cage.
A taunting smile curved his lips. “Is this the part where you thank me with a kiss?”
“Hardly. I’m not like you, demon. I don’t kiss people I hate. And I never will.”
“Never? Are you certain you’d like to make such a declaration?”
I wasn’t certain of anything at the moment. I was confused and buzzing with magic that wasn’t entirely my own. I’d lived through twenty-four hours from hell—with Nonna’s attack, my own brush with death, and being saved by my enemy. His power thrummed through me, filled me. For a second, I wanted him to reach over and drag his hands down my body. Which made no sense.
I couldn’t think with him standing so near. I desperately needed a moment to myself. To collect my thoughts and decide how to proceed. And I couldn’t accomplish any of those things with the half-naked demon crowding my space. Power surged through my veins.
Before Wrath dazzled me with more charm, I whispered a containment spell that must have been fueled with his demon magic because it did not go as planned. One second he was standing there, and the next he was gone. Winked out of existence. It happened so quickly, but I’d managed to catch a glimpse of his face before he’d disappeared. He’d looked so . . . betrayed.
A mix of emotion haunted me for several minutes. He was my enemy. Even if he’d saved me. That one act of goodness didn’t erase that fact. And yet I wasn’t sure if I hoped I’d sent him back to the underworld, or if I hoped he was imprisoned in the cave again. It shouldn’t matter where he was.
Even if I felt slightly guilty for using his own magic against him, I refused to let it color my judgment. He had his mission and I had mine. That was it. I rummaged around on the floor, but couldn’t find my clothes. Damned demon. Of all the ways he could take his vengeance, I didn’t predict walking through city streets naked to be one of them.
I glanced up, ready to curse Wrath to Hell again, and noticed a new dress folded in a neat pile in the corner where he’d been standing. I lifted it up, surprised by its beauty. Dark skirts had tastefully placed gold glitter sprinkled across them—not unlike his shimmering luccicare. Black sheer sleeves fell gracefully from an off-the-shoulder top. And a gold corset with thorns and wings stiched across the back finished it off. I forgot my clothing had been torn during the Viperidae attack. Some feeling I’d rather not dwell on took shape as I held the gown. I shoved it away.
The demon prince’s magic crackled under my skin, infected my soul. I didn’t want to like how alive it made me feel.
I quickly dressed, needing a mundane task to focus on while my feelings darted from one extreme to the next. With Wrath gone, it was only marginally easier to think. Mostly because my thoughts kept returning to him—to the expression on his face. I’d hurt his feelings. And it . . . bothered me. What a ludicrous turn of events. His family sent invisible ghost demons to attack my grandmother and steal my cornicello, and I was feeling bad about potentially banishing a demon to Hell. Where he lived and ruled. Probably happily. In the height of demonic luxury. With fire and brimstone and an orchestra of the screaming souls of the damned.
Still, it might have been a rash decision. Unpleasantness aside, Wrath could be useful to my quest for justice. I was almost positive he had ulterior motives for aligning himself with me, but when I really needed him, he’d been there. That act, above everything else, told me enough.
My soul was safe with him.
Which meant we could set our differences aside and work together to solve Vittoria’s murder. Neither one of us would love the idea, but at least I could trust that he wouldn’t kill me. As of now, the evidence was pointing to a prince of Hell being responsible for the murders, not witch hunters. After what happened with Greed and the attack on Nonna, I needed Wrath on my side.
I blew out a long breath, hoping it was a sound decision.
Goddess curse me, now I had to find out where I’d sent the Prince of Wrath.
I grabbed his shirt, and stole into the city to track down my missing prince of Hell.
