“We agreed to one night,” she finally said. “Is that something you want to renegotiate?”
“Of course not.” Envy sat up, carefully lifting her and setting her down on the bed. “I’ll never break my rule, Miss Antonius. Don’t confuse my arousal for romance. I simply enjoy your tight, wet cunt.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes flaring with challenge.
He knew he’d gone too far.
“We’ll see, then, won’t we.” Her smile was pure malice. “I’m sure you’ll be completely unaffected if I should run into Wolf again. Perhaps I’ll allow him to enjoy my tight, wet cunt for the rest of our long, immortal lives. At least he doesn’t act like one.”
His jealousy ignited in a blaze.
Before he could call her back, apologize, Camilla stormed into his bathing chamber, grabbing the new dress he’d magicked for her on the way.
She slammed the door hard enough to rattle the portrait on his ceiling. The one she’d eyed with mirth instead of lust earlier.
Envy fell back onto the bed, cursing. He was a miserable prick.
It had been hours since Envy had been inside Camilla, an hour since their fight, and the craving still hadn’t abated. If anything, it had worsened. Especially after he relived each of their encounters, his mind pausing when she’d suggested they move to his throne.
He knew exactly what that had been about, and she’d been correct. Envy would never sit on it again without picturing her round little bottom bouncing with each thrust, silver hair gleaming like the dagger it was, aimed straight to his heart.
She’d skewered him with her cunning. She’d owned him on his damn throne.
And he liked it.
Camilla was dangerous. She made Envy want things he shouldn’t.
After she’d left him hard and wanting in bed, all but calling him the cunt he’d been, he reminded himself of the game. His goal.
His court.
And the mistake he’d made that continued to punish him.
He needed to move on from their night. Focus.
Perhaps Camilla was the ultimate test.
If Envy didn’t win, he would no longer have a court.
And that would be exactly the sort of thing Lennox would want. To first see the vampire court in chaos, quickly followed by Envy’s circle falling.
No matter what conflicted feelings he felt at the moment, Envy wouldn’t lose sight of his goal now.
Which was why they were now standing in the antechamber of a throne room that didn’t belong to him, awaiting entry.
He slanted a look in Camilla’s direction. She stood beside him, spine straight, keeping her attention on the double doors, probably admiring the carvings. She’d worn Envy’s House colors without argument, even after the frustrating end to their night.
The gown he’d magicked was deep hunter-green silk bordering on black. It showed more skin than the styles she was used to in the mortal realm, but she never seemed put off by that.
Modesty was coveted by humans, but she shed that easily, adapting to her surroundings and true Fae nature.
In fact, the longer she remained in the Seven Circles, the less the societal restraints of Waverly Green seemed to hold her prisoner. She would thrive in his world, should she choose to stay and stop pretending she was something less than. But Envy wasn’t sure how well he’d react, knowing she was close by, likely falling for someone else. It was selfish, given that he would never invite her to his bed again. Still…
Camilla looked like a royal standing there, shoulders back, gaze bordering on cruel. He’d told her briefly how they should act, the role they needed to play in rival courts.
He sensed her excitement, though she gave no outward indication of her emotions.
She wore the emerald-and-diamond ring he’d given her back in Waverly Green. Neither one of them commented on it. He’d offered her an emerald necklace, too, but she’d declined, choosing her silver locket instead.
The royal announcer stepped into the chamber.
“His Majesty and the queen will see you.”
Envy adopted his cold, royal expression. A new game was about to begin. The game of posturing and court politics, of provoking and winning.
Without looking at Camilla, he followed the announcer into his brother’s gleaming chamber, Gothic and elegant, made to seduce and intimidate. Camilla’s steps were steady and sure beside him, and he wished he could see her face as she took in the throne room.
He did a subtle sweep, trying to view it as she might.
Black marble floors with pale gold veining, a towering arched ceiling, columns in even intervals, carved from a deep gray stone; stained-glass windows allowed light to trickle in, casting muted colors along the chamber.
Massive black gemstone chandeliers hung like watchful demons, hovering thirty feet above them. Gold weapons decorated the walls, while fierce serpent sconces spit fire.
A dark burgundy runner spanned the length of the room, a trail of blood leading to the dais and the demon king sitting there with his queen.
That dais was carved from opaque gemstone that looked like frozen smoke; the very same stone was found in the void between realms.
Two matching thrones sat at the top, intimidating champagne bronze serpents curved around black leather, thorny vines twined around the serpents’ bodies.
A nod to both regents’ power.
Envy fought the urge to glance at Camilla, wondering what she thought of his war-loving brother. Wrath radiated subtle menace, his power rumbling even while under control.
Envy supposed his brother might also be wound up because Envy winked suggestively at his wife.
Emilia shook her head, lips twitching. She knew exactly what Envy had done, knew he’d needled Wrath for the thrill of it. What she didn’t realize was that Envy needed to stoke his jealousy. He needed to pull as much power to himself as possible; his court was spiraling, and he was extending too much energy keeping them together.
He hadn’t fully restored himself since the vampire battle, and he’d need to do so before they left here. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be helpful to Camilla or his court.
Camilla stiffened beside him, and he silently cursed himself for not mentioning that this was Vittoria’s twin.
“Lady Emilia,” he said, smiling so that his dimples showed. Wrath looked ready to launch himself out of the throne. But Camilla relaxed. “You received my gift?”
The queen blushed. “I cannot believe you sent that.”
“Fear not. The original still hangs above my bed. I had it replicated for you. Just in case you grow tired of your husband and want a little excitement.”
Envy turned to Camilla, his expression mischievous.
“You’ve seen the life-sized portrait above my bed. A few months ago, Lady Emilia was given leave to use it as a stimulating visual when she was fighting with my brother. He’s envious that my cock is so legendary.”
Wrath sat forward, eyeing their exchange with interest. “You spent the night together.”
Envy’s teeth ground together audibly. “Yes.”
Wrath and Emilia glanced at each other, a silent conversation playing out. Envy practically saw them plotting right there in front of him. Some people clearly needed to stick their noses in other people’s business to have any form of excitement in their lives.
Camilla looked Envy over coldly, then said, “Perhaps I should offer the king a portrait of his own. It only seems fair.”