Envy was losing himself, all right, to annoyance, irritation, and a glorious woman with more secrets and puzzles than he had. Two more drinks in, part of him could admit he liked her refusal to show her hand. Camilla made him work hard for each kernel of information, giving him just enough to crave more without ever fully satisfying his curiosity.
She remained a riddle. A vexing, beautiful riddle begging to be solved. He just didn’t have as much time as he’d like to puzzle out the mystery of her.
Envy kicked his feet up onto the arm of the chair, attention straying to the clock on the mantel. Midnight. And restless.
He was frustrated. With the gossip spreading through the Seven Circles, with the twisted game, with each second that passed and his court grew more weakened.
He wanted to unfold his wings and catapult into the sky, leaving this hell behind. And that needled him too. The fact that he couldn’t. That he’d need to win to do so ever again.
Envy had to reserve as much power as he could. One thing the columnist had gotten correct: part of his circle was warded against anyone coming or going without his permission. And it took most of his magic to maintain that lock, leaving him weaker than he’d like to be.
He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the chair, emptying his mind.
Then he thought of Sloth’s attempt to stoke his sin and bolted out of his chair, pacing the bedchamber like a caged wolf.
The reporter had said two players were in the Seven Circles.
One heading toward Bloodwood Forest. Perhaps he would get lucky and find a player; then he’d have one less worry to taunt him. Sleep wasn’t going to be happening, so he headed for his door, set on hunting down his competition.
He wrenched his bedroom door open, then halted.
There, sprawled on her stomach across the chaise in their common room, half dressed in shadows, wearing nothing but her soft-looking short stays and reading a book, was Camilla.
Check fucking mate.
Camilla had upended his game board with this move. He had to grudgingly admire it.
She’d lit and arranged several candles to strategically cast shadows along her body, composing the artistic scene with impressive precision, positioning herself in a way that gave her the appearance of being fully dressed, allowing a glimmer of the truth to flicker into focus whenever she moved.
Which she did now, legs bent above her and crossed at the ankles, slowly swinging back and forth like she hadn’t a care in the universe. She flipped the page of the book propped in front of her, completely undisturbed by Envy’s presence.
Corked bottles of oil sat on a tray on the low table next to her, the robe Sloth had sent for her folded neatly on the carpet near her feet.
Their conversation and his taunting words from earlier drifted back to him.
Take off your clothes, put on the robe. I’ll rub your back down with oils.
A smile ghosted across his lips. Clever, clever woman. Camilla was tempting Envy to massage her. She knew he wanted to see her bare flesh, to see whether any mark or spell or enchantment had been inked onto her skin.
And likely, she was thinking of his rule—by his own decree, they’d only ever have one night to make love.
And she lay there, almost entirely undressed, daring him to make his move.
Envy didn’t bother to stop his attention from following the artful lines of her body—from her shapely thighs and calves to the generous curve of her bottom—as she turned another page. Upon closer inspection, he saw that she’d removed her underwear but kept her thigh-high, lace-edged stockings on.
He admired the sight of her like he’d do with any great work of art. Camilla was the painting, the sculpture, the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen. Silver hair, golden skin, all draped in a tantalizingly dark mystery.
From where he stood in his doorway, he didn’t notice any immediate signs of ink. Though he wondered why she’d kept her stays and stockings on, whether it was a ploy to get him to undress her the rest of the way, torture him, or a means to hide the information he was seeking.
The ivory stays hit just above her ribs and dipped low enough to show the tops of her breasts. From the little he could see, they laced up the front, not pulled tight enough to restrict, but allowing her golden flesh to spill out the top.
Two tempting bows tied each strap, making for ease of removal.
She wanted to play. And he was always game.
Envy leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. “I didn’t know you enjoyed reading.”
“I suppose it’s one more secret I’m keeping, Your Highness.”
Camilla didn’t bother to glance up, his second clue that she was toying with him.
Even knowing that he was playing into her scheme, Envy couldn’t stop himself from striding over. He knelt down, gently pressing the book back to read the cover.
“Of course.” He scoffed. “You’re looking for a Prince Charming.”
“Just because I occasionally enjoy romance novels doesn’t mean I’m looking for a prince. I find most royals to be tiresome, arrogant bores who don’t know the first thing about being charming.”
She gave him a pointed look, then tugged her book back and continued reading.
Arrogant, most certainly guilty as charged. But tiresome or boring…
Envy plucked up the bottle of oil, uncorked the stopper, and inhaled. Vanilla and bourbon. Sweet and sinful, just like their little game.
He contemplated his next move. Going to Bloodwood Forest wasn’t the most practical use of his time. The likelihood of finding another player wasn’t high, especially since they’d been seen heading there last night. If they had entered the forest, they’d be long gone by now.
He could waste time and energy he didn’t have running down that old lead. Or he could play this little game with Camilla, hopefully solving the riddle of her, and maybe even stoking her jealousy before the night was over—thus refueling his power.
If she had a magical tattoo inked onto her skin, he’d know she was Fae. If she didn’t, his theory of her being some kind of shape-shifter would be proven likely.
He stood and drizzled the oil over her back without warning, enjoying her slight hiss as the cool liquid dribbled across her skin.
Envy didn’t stop at her back. She was offering him an unobstructed view of her body, and he was going to tend to every inch of her, searching for answers to the questions he had.
Hopefully he’d succeed in solving one mystery tonight.
He poured a light line of massage oil over the round curve of her bottom, then set the oil aside. He slowly rolled down one stocking at a time, pulling them off to expose her bare flesh. He wound the stockings around his fist, considering tying her to the chaise with them, but tossed them aside. He wanted Camilla freely squirming tonight.
Envy grabbed the oil again and continued drizzling it down the backs of her thighs and all the way to the soles of her feet.
“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless.
Camilla was excited by the unexpected path he’d laid out.
“Showing you why Prince Charming isn’t what you truly desire.”
Envy gently gathered her loose hair, then swept it aside, giving himself access to her neck and shoulders. He rubbed the backs of his knuckles against the line of her stays, slipping a finger under the strap, tugging it gently.