While Blade and Wrath silently battled, I studied the vampire more closely.
Strong brows framed those piercing crimson eyes, his lashes thick enough to make anyone envious. His hair was a bit too long to be fully tamed and looked like he’d carelessly combed it before arriving here. Full lips curved in a half smirk as if he’d just recalled a particularly humorous joke he hadn’t bothered to share.
Perhaps the amusement was due to the cunning glint in his eyes—the one that hinted that plenty of victims had fallen for that roguish charm.
His black suit jacket was fitted to his well-proportioned frame, and his white linen shirt and matching cravat were a surprise. Given his appetite for blood, I would have imagined he’d choose to wear all black. Dark trousers hugged muscular legs and were tucked fashionably into freshly buffed riding boots. There was an air about him that said he could dedicate himself to being either your truest protector or your worst enemy based on a whim.
Even standing there, spine straight under the weight of Wrath’s scrutiny, he gave the impression that his jacket was seconds away from being discarded. His collar and cravat seemed to chafe, not because they were uncomfortable or lacking finery, but because the vampire did not appear to want to play pretend. He looked ready to shed all civility and embrace the cruel being he was underneath the refinement. Or perhaps he was simply thirsty and wished for a drink after his travels. If he was the emissary, I wondered what the less diplomatic vampires were like.
Wrath didn’t move, but there was no mistaking the threat he posed while he let the silence stretch uncomfortably. My husband, unlike my impression of Blade, did not act on whims. He was cold calculation and brutal efficiency. Once he decided to make a move, others could either retreat or die. If they grew angry in the process, all the better. Their emotions would feed his sin.
My prince finally allowed his focus to briefly drift over to the witch before he responded to the vampire’s earlier proclamation. “You thought bringing her was the best path to peace?”
“I—”
The demon prince raised a hand. With the way Blade cut his answer off, you’d think Wrath had held up a dagger. “Or was she merely a secondary distraction?”
Blade hesitated for less than a beat, but it was enough to notice that Wrath had caught him off guard. “We thought—”
“You thought to come here, to my House, under the false pretense of peace so you could take what you’d been after all along.” Wrath cocked his head. “Are you truly that dumb? Or desperate? You know who I am. What I’m capable of. So perhaps it’s arrogance and stupidity.” My husband stood, his displeasure forcing the air to frost. Ice coated the stairs on the dais. “And you dared to stand here, lying to my face, and believed you’d get away with it.”
Sursea stepped forward, reaching for something she’d hidden up her sleeve. A weapon, no doubt. She seethed as she yanked a blade free. “Your wife will—”
Wrath barely glanced in her direction as he froze her in place just as he’d done to the werewolves who’d attacked us.
It was one thing to see a wolf frozen solid, and another thing entirely to see a person encased in a thick block of ice. She’d been caught midscream, her expression twisted in pain or fury. We weren’t lucky enough for her to be dead—she was immortal, according to Nonna’s stories—but at least she would be tamed for a while, frozen in misery.
I didn’t feel sorry for Sursea in the least. She never should have attempted to threaten me. Least of all after she’d been the one to curse Wrath and take us from each other in the first place.
As if he’d been thinking the same thing, remembering the night I’d been stolen by the curse, the temperature plummeted again, the room taking on a blue hue as if the walls themselves were chilled to the bone. All the torches and oversized fireplace made sense now, the air was so frigid, so brutal, that death lurked like a dog scenting scraps outside a butcher’s shop. The fires gave a slight bit of respite from an otherwise unforgiving atmosphere.
Wrath had been well and truly pushed beyond his sin.
And the vampire recognized that. He held his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want war.”
“Considering my elite forces just took out several vampires camped along the outskirts of my circle, and a few within castle grounds, I think otherwise.”
I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to let my surprise show. Logically, I understood there had been no time for Wrath to share what he’d learned, but I wished he’d mentioned something before they arrived.