Afterward, we fell onto the glittering dark sand, and I pounced on my husband, who didn’t seem to mind one bit as I guided his length into me. Once we were tired from laughing and making love on the shore, Wrath magicked us back to his bedchamber. A beautiful pale lavender slip was folded on a pillow, and when I pulled it over my head and shimmied it down my body, I noticed the tiny gold stars across the top. It was soft and feminine, and I adored it.
Wrath gave me an appreciative look. The slip hit at midthigh, showing off my bronze skin. If I wasn’t so exhausted from our ordeal, I’d have been tempted to take him once more. He patted the bed, a debauched twinkle in his eye. “Save your energy for morning. You’ll certainly need it.”
With the promise of waking up and making wild, untamed love, I climbed onto the massive bed. Wrath tucked me against his body, and within moments, his breathing turned deep and even. I relaxed into his embrace and closed my eyes. Peace. I couldn’t recall the last time I felt so settled on the inside. There was still much chaos in the world, but in here, in this bedchamber and moment, I knew the true meaning of the word. Perhaps it was that sense of security that was my undoing. I’d forgotten, for a brief moment, what it meant to be cursed.
From one second to the next, I was magically wrenched from Wrath’s bedchamber. And the next nightmare began.
THIRTEEN
“Welcome back, princess.” Domenico bared his teeth in what no one would mistake as a smile. A quick survey of my surroundings confirmed my fears. Once again, I was in the Shadow Realm, chained. It was the same small stone chamber, the same alcove with manacles.
This time, at least, I had a slip on and wouldn’t need a shadow robe. It was the only positive bit of luck. They’d struck while Wrath was asleep, and it would likely be hours before he woke up and found my soul gone. Given his extreme reaction before, they better hope he remained sleeping. I didn’t bother testing the chains. I already felt that same bite of magic, locking my powers away. I glanced at my captor, hating the smug look on his face.
“I assume this means my sister would like to talk.”
“Maybe I just wanted to see if you still bore my mark.” The werewolf raked his gaze over me, pausing on my chest. It wasn’t sexual in nature, but I didn’t like it, either. “Did you know, a wound from an alpha can sometimes cause a feeling similar to what animals experience when they go into heat? Especially if that alpha infused his bite with a bit of magic and intent.”
“I wasn’t wounded by you, I was clawed.”
“And who sank his teeth into that wound? Not your demon,” he said, his tone mocking. “Have any animallike urges, lately? Perhaps you wished to get on all fours.”
“No. And you’re disgusting.”
He laughed, and it raised the hair along my arms. “Don’t worry. I didn’t actually infuse you with an alpha mark. And I have no desire to touch anything tainted by demon cock.”
I refrained from pointing out that my twin had also slept with demons. And vampires. And whoever else ignited her desires, as was perfectly customary here. “Where is Vittoria?”
“She’s bringing a guest. You would have known sooner, before we were interrupted by your mother.” He casually leaned against the wall in the alcove, entirely too close for my liking. “This promises to be quite the evening. Maybe if you’re very nice, I’ll unchain you.”
“How did Vittoria escape our mother?”
Domenico’s smile was all teeth again. “You didn’t really think the Crone would hold her for long, did you? She had other tasks to accomplish, and once you were safely away, she left.”
I was spared from further conversation by the sound of approaching footsteps. Two sets. One pair was measured, unhurried; the other sounded as if they were being dragged. Trepidation rolled down my spine. Whoever else was coming was also doing so against their will.
Vittoria strode into the chamber and shoved her “guest” forward.
The older woman stumbled into the candlelight, and fear became an arrow that was shot straight into my heart.
“Nonna!” I struggled against my chains. My grandmother—who wasn’t truly my grandmother—was bruised and badly beaten. Her bottom lip was swollen as if she’d been hit with either a fist or hard object. Dried blood caked her temple. No matter what she might have done, seeing her hurt made something violent wake up inside me. “Let her go, Vittoria.”
My sister flung her onto the floor, then glanced at me. “There. I let her go. Happy now?”