I studied his features. The strain in his jaw, the fierceness in his eyes. The demon looked like he needed a respite from our nightmarish few hours, so our conversation could wait.
“All right.” I gave him a tight smile and focused on the food again. He moved to the other side of the island, giving me plenty of space to work. “What do you think of what Blade said regarding Vittoria’s unusual companion?”
“Marcella?”
“Mmh-hmm.” I scooped the lemon zest up and sprinkled it over the beans, quickly adding the herbs next. I drizzled olive oil, two tablespoons of warm water, then added salt and fresh ground pepper. Wrath’s cooks had red pepper flakes in the pantry, so I added a generous pinch of them, too. I stirred everything until it was well mixed, then topped it off with the remaining fresh herbs, pepper flakes, and a drizzle more of olive oil. “I can’t help but wonder if Vesta assumed a new identity or reclaimed her true name. If she’s the demon-werewolf companion he spoke of.”
“It would explain the blood.”
“It might also explain why Vesta didn’t simply escape to the Shadow Realm. If she’s both demon and werewolf, she probably can’t travel there alone like the other wolves. Correct?”
“I would imagine so. I can travel there because I’m the king. Lesser demons cannot, though. If Vesta is half demon, I think that would certainly hinder her ability to travel there on her own,” Wrath said. “Who has been with your sister when you enter the Shadow Realm?”
“Only Domenico.”
“The alpha.” Wrath removed toast points from the oven and slid them onto a waiting dish. Without needing instruction, he spread the herbed white bean dip over a piece of toast and handed it to me before serving himself one, too. He took a bite and briefly closed his eyes. “This is delicious.”
I sampled my own piece and sighed happily. It had been an experiment and turned out exactly as I’d hoped it would. It was creamy and flavorful and felt nurturing after a hellish evening. I adored how simple it was, how each ingredient complemented the other.
I took another bite, allowing my mind to wander with possibilities. “It’s good as a dip, but I’d also like to try it with grilled chicken, dressed salad greens, and perhaps roasted red peppers. Or maybe cherry peppers. Make a true meal out of it.”
“Mmh.”
Wrath sipped his drink, then finished his toast before fixing another, the silence comfortable between us. With each bite, he seemed to relax more, lose some of the tension he’d been carrying since I’d awoken from the Shadow Realm and the vampires arrived.
“I think your theory about Vesta not being dead is correct,” he said. “What I haven’t quite worked out yet is whether Greed realizes that. I’m inclined to believe that he did fall for the ruse and that’s why he might have sent himself the skull. Or, more likely, asked one of his closest guards to provide evidence to condemn your twin. That way he wouldn’t lie about the skull.”
“So we need to find Vesta or get my sister to confess any role she played in Vesta’s escape.”
“If your sister did, indeed, assist with her escape, she needs to tell me directly. I can sense if she lies and take the proof to Greed.”
Which would then remove the blood retribution he’d been granted and save my twin from any of the other princes. It wasn’t going to be easy to get my sister to talk, but I had to try.
Once we’d eaten our fill, we stood quietly with our drinks. Wrath swirled his, staring into his glass, seeming lost in thought. “The cooking is new.”
His admission caught me by surprise. I nearly choked on my next sip of wine. “What?”
“Before the spell-lock, you weren’t interested in cooking,” he said, bringing his attention to mine. “You seem relaxed when you’re creating, peaceful. Your mortal family did a lot wrong, but I feel like murdering them a little less when I see you looking at roasted garlic like it’s the most wondrous thing in our universe.”
“Aside from you, naturally.”
“That goes without saying.” Somehow, Wrath had managed to slowly close in on where I stood. My heart thumped with each measured step he took, his focus dropping to my lips with unchecked desire. “How am I looking at you, my lady?”
Hunger, raw and untamed, flashed in his face. There was little doubt that I was about to be his main course. I set my wineglass aside. My breathing quickening in charged anticipation as he stalked closer; his cunning eyes, not missing the reaction I had to his proximity, twinkled.