Propriety had fucked him again. He was a walking, frustrated ball of gods-damned virtue, even after tending to himself with thoughts of her taste making him so cursedly aroused, he’d come with a demonic roar. Several, increasingly frustrating times. Each time he came, he was less satisfied than before. He craved her and his hand did not compare.
And her indifference was driving him positively feral. If this were a game played between them, he’d have to admit she currently had the upper hand. All previous lovers had been near savage with jealousy after he’d graced their sheets, begging for more. And that was the way he preferred things.
“Was there anything else, my lord?”
Envy’s attention snapped back to Camilla. She’d been watching him, and he’d been oblivious.
He was never oblivious.
That was antithesis to his very nature. Envy planned, he was meticulous, he missed no details. Everything was a puzzle for him to solve. If Camilla thought to best him in this game of seduction, she truly had no idea who she was playing against. If she wished to be indifferent, he would be doubly so. Use her move against her.
He gave her a cold look.
“Do not dismiss me in my own home, Miss Antonius. If it happens again, I’ll be forced to remind you who serves whom.”
Amusement ghosted across her features.
He had the distinct impression she knew exactly who’d served whom last night. Gods-damn it all. None of his shots were landing.
“I imagine that will be very hard for you, my lord.”
Camilla’s gaze slowly dropped to his trousers before she flicked it back up, mischief glittering in her silver eyes. His cock jerked in response, eager to draw her attention again.
“Since it appears that you’ll have your hands full thinking, I really must get to work.”
Saints curse him, Envy’s arousal grew at her second blatant dismissal.
If this had been any other time, any other circumstance, he’d have taken Camilla right there on the paint, using her perfect little bottom and his handprints to capture each thrust of pleasure on the canvas.
Then he’d hang the damn thing in his foyer.
Let her dismiss him then.
Rock-hard and frustrated in more ways than one, Envy left Camilla to her painting.
Out in the corridor, his cursed brother leaned casually against the wall, carving thin strips off a pear and popping them into his mouth. For once, his expression was oddly contemplative.
“What?” Envy snarled.
“You’re in trouble,” Lust said, pointing out the obvious. “The lust coming off you would make my court blush. Ever think maybe Camilla was chosen to distract you?”
Envy had.
Which meant the game master had chosen her with care. And that enraged him.
Camilla deserved to be more than a pawn, designed to pierce him deeply.
“In a few hours, she won’t be a problem anymore. I’ll have both the Hexed Throne and the next clue.”
And Miss Camilla Antonius would have a missing and presumed dead fiancé, one who’d left his entire mortal estate to his would-be wife.
It wasn’t part of their original bargain, but once Envy got what he was after he did not plan on returning to Waverly Green, and it made sense to give Camilla an added boon. He’d surmised that her finances had taken a downturn after her father’s death. Otherwise, he couldn’t imagine why she’d resort to creating forgeries. It was the least he could do to repay her for helping his court.
He would also see to it that Vexley would never be an issue for her again. Nor would any other player. He had Alexei working with his spies now, tracking down anyone else who was mildly suspicious in Waverly Green.
He’d kill the whole realm before anyone else got to her.
Lust gave him a doubtful look.
“Bring her to House Lust first, when you visit. If she starts with House Wrath, she’ll think we’re a bunch of vengeful savages who don’t know how to have any fun.”
Envy rolled his eyes. From what his spies had revealed, Wrath and his wife were having lots of savage fun. All over their House. In fact, rumors were circulating that Wrath had barely seen his court since his queen’s coronation. They’d been too busy playing with chains and knives, stoking each other’s fury like deviants.
If they kept this up, there would be a hellish lot of nieces and nephews soon.
“Camilla will come to House Envy first,” Envy said without thinking, immediately regretting it when Lust flashed a victorious grin his way. “Why are you still here?”
Lust lifted a shoulder and dropped it.
“Can’t I just be concerned for my brother? I know something’s wrong. We all do.”
Envy’s attention narrowed on his brother. It wasn’t an outright lie, but he sensed Lust was fishing. And he was getting entirely too close to the truth.
“You and Gluttony have a wager going?”
“There is that aspect as well.”
“Get out.”
Envy turned and began walking toward the kitchens. Apparently, he had a cup of tea to request for Miss Antonius. Then he’d take another long, icy bath. Alone.
“She doesn’t succumb to my influence, at least not strongly.”
Lust’s shift in topic drew him up short.
“Have you tried to use your power on her?” he continued.
“The rules of the game won’t allow me to use magic,” Envy finally admitted.
It was a weak excuse, one his brother didn’t bother to call out.
“Wait until after she paints the throne.” Lust was quiet for a moment. “Then try.”
Lust didn’t say it, but Envy knew what he was thinking: that Camilla might be very different from Envy’s last mortal.
Lust, for all his incessant bed hopping, was a secret romantic.
But Envy had already decided how this story would end.
In his world the only happily-ever-after he sought was for his court.
TWENTY-FOUR
CAMILLA PULLED THE emerald brush from where she’d hidden it in her bodice, eager to use it for the first time, even if she wasn’t as thrilled to begin work on the Hexed Throne.
Trepidation inched its way down her spine, making the fine hair along her arms stand on end.
She already sensed the wrongness of what she was about to do, felt the first gusts of dark magic blowing in around the edges of the room, like spilled ink bleeding its way across a fresh page. If her father’s stories could be trusted, the Hexed Throne—from wherever it slumbered—was cracking an ancient eye.
Would it be curious or furious at being summoned?
Camilla would soon find out—after striking the devil’s bargain with Synton, there was no getting out of this part now.
Perhaps she was giving her talent too much credit, perhaps it would only be a simple painting.
And Synton is only a simple art collector with no dubious aspirations whatsoever.
She all but rolled her eyes at herself. Denial never did anyone any favors. Damned or not, this was the fate she’d chosen for herself, and it was time to get to work.
A quiet tapping drew her attention to the window.
She walked over and peered out across the manicured grounds, not seeing anyone. Another chill of foreboding caressed her spine. It was probably just a wayward branch. But after her encounter with Lord Garrey in the hedge maze, she wasn’t so sure.