He looped a necklace over my head, the weight of it settling just above my cleavage, and fastened it more slowly than was necessary. But I didn’t complain or step away.
When he was done, he trailed one finger down my spine, following the line of the thin chain, inadvertently coaxing a small shudder. It took every ounce of stubbornness I could muster to not lean into his caress. To recall my hatred. Because surely that’s what that feeling was: the all-consuming, raging fire of loathing.
I slowly turned until we faced each other again. His gaze dropped to my necklace and I finally looked down to see what he’d placed on me. I inhaled sharply as my silver cornicello caught the light. “Does the devil know you’re giving this to me?”
Wrath didn’t take his attention from the amulet. “Consider it borrowed, not given.”
“Can you do that? Won’t he come after you?”
He made a show of glancing down each end of the empty corridor before looking at me again. “Do you see anyone trying to stop me?” I shook my head. “Then stop worrying.”
“I am most certainly not…” His mouth twisted into a troublesome grin as I trailed off, leaving the lie unspoken. I blew out a quiet breath. “It doesn’t mean what you think it does. Stop smirking.”
“What, exactly, do you think I believe it means?”
“I don’t care what you think. I’ve simply decided to be cordial for the time being. And I am merely tolerating our current situation until I leave for House Pride.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me you hate me, that I am your worst enemy. Better yet, tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”
“I’m not interested in playing this game.” He arched a brow, waiting, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his smugness. “Fine. I don’t want to kiss you. Satisfied?”
A spark of understanding flared in his gaze. I realized a second too late what I’d done; what he’d known the moment the words left my traitorous lips. He stepped forward and I quickly stepped back, bumping against the wall.
He leaned in, bracing himself on either side of me, his expression smoldering enough to start a fire. “Liar.”
Before I dug myself a deeper grave, his mouth slanted over mine, stealing my breath and any further denial as easily as he’d stolen my soul.
NINE
His kiss consumed and seduced me. Just as he’d meant it to. It wasn’t fast or hard or fueled by hatred or fury. It was an ember, a promise of the blazing fire to come with a bit of careful tending. I almost considered it sweet—the kind of chaste embrace two courting lovers stole when their chaperone wasn’t looking—until he slowly raised my arms above my head, pinning me to the wall by my wrists. He took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently. Then I remembered: he was no angel. And I was suddenly all too willing to be damned.
Curse this realm and its fiendish machinations. Its need for sin. My undeniable need for him. Right now there was no blood oath with the devil. No betrothal or obligations to my family. There was only this moment, this wicked prince, and the heat steadily building between us.
Wrath’s body molded against mine, rock hard and unyielding in all the right places. Whatever hunger I felt was equally matched by him. I wish I hated it. I wish I didn’t run my tongue over his lips, or sigh as he obeyed my silent demand and deepened our kiss.
This new kiss devoured, plundered, stole. It was apology and wanting and a fierce refusal to submit to any true feelings all in one. Primal need at its most basic level. I couldn’t tell if letting myself give in to this wild feeling frightened or thrilled me.
I yanked away, breathing hard. “Is this real?”
“Yes.”
As if to prove the truth in his statement, his hips rolled forward and I was almost certain the whole castle quaked the second our bodies connected. There was no mistaking how much this dark prince wanted me. I grabbed the lapels on his jacket and brought his lips back to mine.
For one heart-thundering moment, I wished he’d hike my gown up right there, bury himself deep inside me and release every last one of my trapped desires. I longed to forget where I was and what I had to do. I wanted to abandon all of the hurt and pain and grief that were never far. All I desired was the sweet oblivion of touch. Wrath could easily provide that. And more.
He leashed himself and broke away from our kiss, only to begin languidly stroking the top of my bodice. Need flared through me and seemed to mirror itself in him. He dragged his hands down my sides, gripping me a little tighter to his body. “You may destroy me yet.”