He didn’t look relieved, but he did relax his stance, marginally. I saw the exact moment he recalled the night I was talking about, when I thought I’d broken our betrothal with a spell of un-making. He’d sworn he wouldn’t force me into a marriage or take me to the underworld. Apparently, more half-truths if not full lies.
“You still do. You do not have to complete our marriage.”
I pointed a finger in accusation at the summoning Mark.
“And what about this unbreakable bond? It doesn’t feel like a choice. I realize you had much to sacrifice, too, but at least you were aware of what you were deciding. Regardless, you should have told me before now. I had every right to know.”
“The Mark was the best alternative I could come up with at the time. And thanks to the venom, I didn’t have many other options to explore before it stopped your heart. I asked you to grant me permission to help that night. There was your choice. You betrothed us. I accepted.”
As if I needed a reminder of that grievous error. “Alternative to what?”
“To delay certain urges the acceptance creates.”
“Urges.”
My mouth shut with an audible click as understanding sank in. All of my lust-filled thoughts and feelings toward Wrath had slowly been intensifying. They’d been eroding my distrust and the betrayal I had felt. I’d thought it was only this realm, its tendency toward desire, fueling my emotions, nudging me toward that almost primal frenzy to bed him. But it wasn’t. It was also an ancient need to claim my husband. To secure our marriage.
Goddess above. Wrath was my intended.
I’d been fighting a battle on many fronts and hadn’t even known it. No wonder resisting temptation had been so hard. I’d been battling the bond, the realm, and its nudges for me to face my fears of owning my sexual desire without guilt or shame.
If I was being honest, the conflicted feelings had started well before we came to this world. When he’d been attacked by Envy and bled out before me, something had shifted then.
And prior to that, when I’d been under Lust’s spell, I’d wanted Wrath desperately. For a moment that night, he seemed to want to close the distance between us, too.
I snapped myself into the present. “Your acceptance of the betrothal creates desire?”
“Consummation, along with a traditional ceremony, complete the marriage bond.” He searched my face, probably seeing if I was about to hit him now. I wanted to. Tremendously. “You look…”
“Angry?” I raised my brows and canted my head. He was wise enough to know that the silence that followed was twice as dangerous as raising a hand.
“Create was a poor word choice. It encourages the completion of the bond. At some level, you have to already possess those feelings, or else there’d be nothing for the bond to encourage.”
“Has the realm ever been encouraging me, or is it only our bond?”
“Both.”
“And your summoning Mark does what, exactly?”
“Marking you subdues the marriage urges because it’s its own unbreakable link between us. If you were to think of it in terms of a body of water, it would be similar to a river that breaks into two smaller streams. Each diluting the other to an extent, until they rejoin.”
Which was why he’d brushed his knuckles across the Mark whenever we kissed; he’d been trying to dilute my urges. He also did that while I was under Lust’s influence at the bonfire. Which meant he’d been tamping it down for a while. And hadn’t bothered to tell me.
I don’t know why it stung so badly, but it did.
“What happens if I refuse to accept the marriage? Will I still want you in my bed?”
“The urges will remain, but they won’t ever force your hand, Emilia. That’s not the way the bond works. You will always have a choice. Just as you would with any other partner.”
“I always have a choice,” I scoffed. “Except if I want to marry the devil.”
Wrath stiffened. The words were out of my mouth before I’d given much thought to them. Or how they might impact the prince. In order for him to experience those urges, too, he must possess some level of feelings for me.
And that was… it was too complicated to sort through.
I knew it was unfair to blame him, especially since I was the one who’d originally trapped him in a betrothal, but I couldn’t help but cling to my fury. All of my plans were going up in flames. If I didn’t get to House Pride, I might never discover what really happened to my twin. The only reason I’d even signed that contract was to place myself in the viper’s nest and stop any more witches from being murdered.