“Oh, for shit’s sake. Enough.” Pride shot up from where he’d been slumped against a column, his silver eyes narrowing in warning. “This is incredibly dull. Surely there is some other more diverting prize to be claimed? I find secrets tiresome.” He stared at his brother in challenge. “Perhaps this year’s sacrifice will come in the form of a forbidden tryst. I’m sure we can find a volunteer willing to bed the guest of honor. Then my brother may pick a different prize.”
The assembled demons subtly looked from Wrath to their king, their breath held.
“No.”
Wrath’s tone was cold enough to rival ice. He glanced to me, probably to see if I’d been intrigued by the idea and he’d spoken too quickly. I imagined if I said yes, he’d stand back and not utter a word of protest if I chose to bed Pride. No matter how much he’d hate it.
And hate it he would. Wrath’s mask of indifference had slipped and he hadn’t put it back.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding.” The devil’s smile was sinful as Wrath cast a wary glance his way. Pride was practically preening, pleased he’d laid the perfect bait and Wrath had fallen into his true trap. “I did not mean to suggest I would be offering services. As Lady Emilia is your intended, I believe you ought to be the one to bed her, brother.”
I stiffened. If Wrath and I shared a bed…
… we’d be that much closer to completing our marriage bond. And Pride knew it. He looked undisturbed by the idea; if anything, he seemed eager for me to marry his brother. Which indicated he never cared about the contract I signed and I’d never been his intended. So what in the seven hells was really going on? If the devil’s curse had been broken by Vittoria’s and my birth, I still couldn’t understand why the demons had lied about the brides.
Envy, who’d been glowering at the interruption, suddenly perked up.
Wrath looked to me then, his expression blank except for the slight tightness around his mouth. It was the only indication he wasn’t happy with the turn of events.
Whatever he saw in my face had his tone going hard when he addressed his brother again. “Pick another option or stand back and let’s vote to complete the ceremony.”
“I told you,” Pride drawled, “I’ve grown quite bored of secrets. It’s time for a new tradition. I’m sure our host is willing to oblige.”
Pride nodded to Gluttony. The prince of this circle rubbed his hands together. “Indeed. I do love breaking the rules. You have two choices. Either bed each other in one of the glass chambers here.” He stood aside and with a grand flourish, yanked a gold cord that held draperies back. Inside, an unoccupied candlelit bedroom softly glowed. “Or—”
“Your royal suite,” I offered, stunning everyone, myself most of all.
“My suite?” Wrath stared at me as I nodded. “We do not have to change the rules, Emilia. If I want to claim the fear as my prize, I will.”
“Only if you gain enough votes.” Gluttony’s grin widened as Wrath’s temper rumbled through the ballroom. “You may have won the hunt, but this is no longer your prize to claim. We’re substituting the guest of honor’s sacrifice. And she’s made her decision. You may choose the royal suite, the glass room, or, best yet, you may stay right here. Take her over the dais, or against the column. Then we can be sure you complete the task.”
“Unless you’d like to stand aside and have someone else volunteer,” Envy offered, his too-innocent smile indicating he was using the sin he ruled over to taunt his brother. “My vote would be on Gluttony. He is the host.”
“No.”
Wrath’s tone indicated there was no chance in this circle of Hell that he would turn this into a spectator sport and would go to war if his brothers tried any maneuvering.
Gluttony took it all in stride and I wondered if his mood ever soured or if he was permanently happy. “A tryst in your royal suite it is.” He clapped twice. “Master of ceremonies. Complete the ritual.”
Wrath paced around the quiet royal suite, a mighty predator caged. It did not matter that his cage was a well-appointed bedroom suite with chilled champagne, chocolate-covered fruits, crystal chandeliers, and silk sheets. And a fiancée who craved his touch.
Even if he hadn’t offered one of his secrets to allow me to keep mine, I would want him. It was time to stop lying to myself. To stop pretending that it was only the seductive magic of this world and our bond creating this attraction. I wanted him. It was his imposing figure I looked for in each crowded room. His protection I welcomed and his sin I aligned best with.
Regardless of our past and the circumstances that brought us here, to this moment, together, I wanted this night of passion with him.
The prince did not appear to feel the same. He prowled over to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel, watching as the flames turned silver and writhed before him. He did not speak on our walk here, nor did he look at me once we’d entered his suite.
Without turning to meet my stare, he said, “It’s not too late for me to give up a secret instead. We do not have to do this. I vowed you would have a choice. I stand by my word. My brothers will not vote against me, no matter what they said earlier.”
“I did choose.”
He finally turned, his expression thunderous. “Choosing between two less-than-ideal options is not a choice.”
My lips curved upward. “Will bedding you be less than ideal?”
“Do not make light of the situation.”
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