For someone who’d just frozen his entire bedchamber in a rage, he certainly could be warm and kind. At least where I was concerned. I doubted anyone else ever saw this side of the demon. Which made me appreciate his actions all the more.
Goose bumps rose along the careful lines he made from my neck, following the curve of my spine down to my bottom. He tenderly lifted one arm at a time, paying special care to my sore wrists. Slight coolness nipped at the air, and I realized he must be exercising an enormous amount of restraint to not have his anger overwhelm the temperature again.
Once he thoroughly saw to my back and arms, he slowly moved to my sides, skimming the underside of my breasts, causing my nipples to harden as he drifted closer to them. I didn’t think he was intentionally attempting to seduce me, but that didn’t stop my body from reacting to his ministrations. Heat pooled between my thighs, and my thoughts immediately shifted to where he’d drag that cloth next. If my luck had finally turned this evening, perhaps he’d use his fingers instead of the linen. I leaned back, granting him better access to that particular place…
“There is a hexed blade that can kill me.”
A chill descended, erasing the pleasant feeling at once. I sat up, twisting around, the sudden movement splashing water onto the pristine floor. “What?”
“Your so-called First Witch created hexed objects. Our records indicate three, but the actual number was never confirmed. Only one was ever found to be truly dangerous to a prince of Hell, the Blade of Ruination.”
As if that made it better. “Please tell me you are in possession of it.”
Wrath held my gaze, the strength and power of it meant to fortify my nerves. It had the opposite effect. The prince sighed. “None of the objects have been recovered. They disappeared when the witch and her spies did.”
“You can be killed.”
He offered a slight incline of his head in confirmation. The thought of someone extinguishing his flame had panic irrationally seizing me. All these months we’d spent arguing, fighting each other and our attraction. And it could be gone. Some selfish, hateful creature could take him from me. I thought he was invincible, and this one hexed blade made him too vulnerable for my liking. Made every little thing except cherishing our time together insignificant. With the rival demon House daggers, he could be injured, but not killed.
Perhaps it was my sister’s reemergence in my life, the fact that she was capable of anything, including faking her own murder, that had me coming undone. Or maybe it was whatever she’d been testing tonight by bringing me to that realm. Maybe they wanted to see how long it would take for Wrath to track me there. I had no idea if he could be harmed in that realm with his soul detached from his body. One thing I was certain of: I couldn’t trust my sister.
If Vittoria got her hands on that blade, she’d probably attack Wrath. She’d warned me not to complete our marriage bond; I could see her ensuring that never happened. I had no idea who her enemies were, but I knew she’d go to impossible lengths to destroy them. If she believed my marriage to Wrath would in any way force me to give up part of myself that she needed for her plans, he would definitely become an enemy in her eyes.
With strength that seemed to catch the demon off guard, I yanked Wrath forward, pulling him off the stool and into the tub, clothes and all. I needed to feel him. Alive and breathing and solid beneath me. I leapt onto his lap and tugged his wet shirt open, buttons flying across the floor and bouncing into the tub as I pressed my hand to his heart, my own beating rapidly.
If anyone took him from me… my magic surged up, ready to incinerate this realm and every other one that possibly existed. That ancient, rumbling power I’d felt once before cracked an eye deep in my center. Whatever that monster was, it was growing more ravenous the longer it remained awake. It wanted to be set free, to ravage and destroy. And I barely held it at bay.
Buds of rose-gold flame burst into the air above us, the fiery flowers unfurling along with burning roots and stems with thorns. It was a garden made from embers and flames. And I suddenly couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed; all I saw was a rose-gold haze as my rage took magical form. I breathed in a ragged breath and exhaled, half-convinced flames and smoke would follow. Vines with sharp, oversized thorns twisted up around the tub, crept up the walls; in moments, we’d be overtaken by them…
Strong, powerful hands slid down my body, the sensation grounding me as the maelstrom within calmed a fraction. I swallowed hard, my throat parched, as I inhaled deeply and dragged my attention to the demon. Wrath gave me a bemused look but didn’t stop lightly caressing me, like he knew I was still half under the spell of my fury. My attention followed the careful path his hands traveled, my breathing evening out with each long, slow stroke.