“I said we should leave, my lady. I never said we were going to.” Wrath’s clever fingers discovered I hadn’t lied about my undergarments, and his attention zeroed in on that secret spot that yearned for him. He rubbed the slickness of my arousal until I whimpered from growing need. “At least not yet.”
My king knelt before me, his gaze dark and wicked as he made good on his promise to lick every inch of me.
The Prince of Lust might rule over all forms of pleasure, but the exterior portion of his House of Sin was dedicated to the one he was most famous for: lust. Our carriage had only just stopped outside the circular drive when it was made clear which prince ruled this court.
Marble statues of couples engaged in passionate encounters lined the grand staircase leading to a set of oversized wooden doors. My attention traveled to a frieze of an orgy placed above the entrance, the phrase ENTER ALL carved onto it.
I smiled a little at the double meaning. Subtlety was an art form Lust refused to learn.
Wrath and I were ushered in and promptly announced to the court. We strode into the grand ballroom where lords and ladies all bowed low—one of the first and last times a rival demon court would do so when their own ruling prince was in attendance.
“Rise,” Wrath said. “Tonight we celebrate Her Majesty Queen Emilia. Thank you to my brother, the Prince of Lust, for graciously hosting.”
A string quartet struck up a tune, and revelers returned to their merriment.
The ballroom was unlike the crude showing of lust outside; this chamber was tasteful sensuality on every level. From the deep plum shade of the brocade wallpaper to the velvet and silk fabrics meant to bring tactile pleasure, it was easy to identify every aspect of his sin’s influence. Overstuffed pillows were piled in the corners, welcoming lords and ladies of this circle to lie back and recline. To indulge in simple pleasures like food, wine, and conversation.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a House of Sin and debauchery if there weren’t more literal displays of lust happening. Couples paired off both privately and publicly, submitting to physical pleasure. Swings hung from the ceiling, and more adventurous demons rode each other above the dancers swirling across the checkered limestone and marble floor below.
I hadn’t visited this circle before the spell-lock, so it was all new.
Unlike the overindulgence on display at Gluttony’s, Lust’s ballroom and all the demons of his court exuded that same sort of sensuality that was pervasive in this room.
From the artwork Lust had chosen to the clothing and seductive glances, fluttering of lashes and… the hunt. Members of this court thrilled at the dance of seduction, almost as much as they enjoyed the actual pleasure. Ladies wore sheer gowns that offered a hint of nakedness. Lords’ clothing was made of the same material—all of it designed to inspire lust, desire.
We moved through the room of politely chattering demons, taking in the full splendor of the party. One section was curtained off, and I peered through it. Here was the more daring section. Lords and ladies wore nothing but masks while they danced.
A male couple embraced each other, lost in each other’s gazes. Around the outer portion of this closed-off chamber, mattresses lined the floor. Couples moved from the dance floor to the beds, continuing their seductions.
“If you’d like a mask, your majesty, that can easily be arranged.” Lust grinned as I dropped the curtain back. “A password is also required to indicate consent. Would either of you like it?”
Wrath took a sip of the drink he’d snagged earlier and said casually, “I would like to be home with my queen instead of tolerating your paltry jabs.”
“Oh, I see.” Lust’s voice turned mocking. “You’re angry because you’d like to be home jabbing your wife.”
“Perhaps your idea that anyone would enjoy ‘jabbing’ is why you’re unattached, brother.”
I spotted Envy across the crowd, and he raised a glass in my direction. Help came in the most unexpected places sometimes, but I didn’t care. “If you’ll both excuse me.”
I rushed away, leaving the brothers arguing, and swiped a glass of demonberry wine. I clinked my glass against Envy’s. “Thank you for saving me from that fight.”
“I figured they were having another adolescent argument involving their cocks.”
“You’re not wrong.”
At that he grinned. “I rarely am.”
“Humble, too.”
“I’m a prince. Royals don’t bother with something as pedestrian as humility.”