“Since you are so unbothered, I’ll happily bend Camilla over and shove my cock deep—”
Lust made a garbled sound.
Envy had exploded before he could think through his actions. Still, he squeezed his brother’s throat tighter, his expression void of humor.
“Don’t.”
“Why? It’s lust, not love. No need to act like our love-drunk big brother. Unless, of course, this game is different from the others.” Lust’s gaze sharpened; he’d been purposefully provoking Envy. “There isn’t anything you’d like to confess, is there?”
A loud roaring sounded in Envy’s head. Lust hid his cunning behind his jovial persona, but his instincts were nearly unmatched by any of their other brothers.
“Until she’s mine,” Envy said smoothly, “you know how I feel about sharing.”
It was normally true. Everyone knew how territorial he could be.
“Good. For a moment it looked like you were thinking of tearing my throat out.”
Lust flashed him a wolfish grin before his gaze darted behind Envy.
Envy dropped his hand and flexed it, poised to strike again.
His brother tossed an arm around his shoulders, turning him to face the dance floor.
“If you won’t take the artist to bed, someone else will.”
There she was—a shimmering blade cutting through the darkness. His princess of starlight, if only for one evening. The woman who held him and his court in her burning, deadly grasp.
“Gods fucking damn,” Lust muttered beside him, whistling softly. “That woman.”
Envy barely noticed Lady Katherine and Lord Edwards standing beside her, mere shadows in masks of blue and gray. Between them, Camilla held her head high, her otherworldly hair pulled back from her mask, curled and cascading down her bare shoulders.
His attention slid over her collarbones, admiring the dip in the gown that hinted at her curves but didn’t reveal much. It was meant to tease, to seduce, and Miss Camilla Antonius was enchanting the whole room. At Vexley’s party she’d been shy, wanting to fade into the shadows, escape notice.
With her shining silver mask, she owned every ounce of attention that came her way now. She was a star, and she refused to dull her light for any mere mortal.
Which was fitting, since she wasn’t meant for a mortal man tonight.
She was meant for Envy.
And after she agreed to paint the Hexed Throne, because he had to believe she would, he was going to enjoy every second of their time together. Worshipping her body until the sunlight streamed in through the windows and their night of passion ended.
Envy was ready to make his own grand entrance when he saw something that made his sin ignite.
Vexley had arrived as well and was already whisking Camilla onto the dance floor. His hand had settled far too low on her hip for Envy’s liking.
Jealousy, ice-cold and ancient, frosted the railing where Envy stood.
Mortals peering over the next balcony shrieked as ice shot across their banister next.
Gods damn it. Envy used a tiny bit of magic to glamour the mortals’ memories, making them forget the oddity they’d just experienced. Once they’d settled, he flashed his brother a warning look.
“Don’t start.”
Before Lust could needle him about his temper again, Envy was already descending the stairs.
Masked lords and ladies attempted to catch his attention, stepping into his path, clearing their throats. Envy carved through them like a dagger, aiming for the mortal who had a certain wish to die. Vexley’s garish gold mask was about as subtle as his hands sliding lower on Miss Antonius’s form. If they dipped any farther, Envy would chop them off.
Envy ignored gasps as he strode with purpose onto the dance floor. He didn’t speak, didn’t deign to ask to cut in. Vexley ought to thank his God that Envy didn’t shove his blade through his heart right there. Or perhaps he’d stab the idiot’s cock first, show him how it felt when someone took something that wasn’t theirs.
Instead, Envy’s arm slipped easily around Camilla, and he expertly drew her into a waltz without missing a beat. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, her gaze fixed to his mask. Vexley fumed, but the dance had soon left him far behind.
They circled other couples, but Envy paid them no mind. Camilla was a goddess to be worshipped, and tonight she was his.
He watched as she nibbled her lower lip, the action igniting an ember of heat low in his abdomen.
“Something you wish to say, Miss Antonius?” he asked, bringing his mouth to her ear.
He’d meant to tempt her, but that coiled warmth dropped lower, his body suddenly aware of each place they pressed together.
A shiver rolled down her spine—Envy knew, because he felt it beneath his light touch. Her skin pebbled from excitement. He drew her closer, not demanding or forceful, but steady. An edge shy of possessive.
Camilla didn’t back away. Instead, she leaned in, as if matching his move. Daring him to up the ante. His hand gently stroked along her back, her sharp intake of breath hardly noticeable as they whirled.
“Camilla?” he prompted, his breath stirring the delicate silver curls near her neck.
“People will talk about what you just did, my lord.”
Amusement laced his tone.
“And what would they say?” He guided her around again, moving faster, keeping pace with the music. “That I stole a dance? That I prevented a drunken ass from making a spectacle? Or that I could not care less what anyone thinks?”
She was quiet a moment.
“The paintbrush was lovely. But bribery is always tempting, isn’t it?”
He smiled. “Consider it merely a simple gift.”
“With all due respect, my lord, I’d wager nothing with you is simple.”
His chuckle was deep and delighted. Miss Antonius was a formidable opponent. He might actually miss sparring with her when all this was through.
Envy maneuvered them to a shadowy section off to the side, affording them a moment of privacy.
“If I wished to coerce you, Miss Antonius, I can think of much more interesting ways to do so.”
Camilla’s gaze dropped to his mouth, lingering there a beat too long before she jerked it back up, quickly glancing away. A pretty blush stained her cheeks.
Interesting.
He considered tilting her chin up, tracing those full lips with his, kissing her right there. He wondered if she’d be scandalized by his behavior, or if the mask would make her daring.
A throat delicately cleared behind them, breaking the moment. Envy didn’t immediately step away or drop his arms from Camilla. He shot an annoyed look over his shoulder.
“Yes?” he asked, tone clipped.
The brunette held up her dance card. “This dance belongs to me, my lord.”
Envy blinked, realizing that the music had stopped, that a new song was beginning. He was about to dismiss the woman, who he suspected was Widow Janelle behind the white feathered mask, when Camilla stepped back, dipping her chin in a slight nod, then swiftly moved across the dance floor, heading straight for the refreshment table.
Envy stared after her a beat. He’d been so close to… what? Getting her to say yes, or gaining her trust? Maybe he simply wanted to kiss her in that moment, make Vexley and anyone else watching mad with envy.