Her blush gown had clearly been chosen to provoke—split up both sides, it fluttered open as she walked to the throne. Two tiny scraps of silk looped from her waist over each shoulder, covering her breasts only in part. She looked like temptation and sin. Her two favorite things aside from death.
“As wonderful as it is to see you again so soon,” she said, pausing on the first step, “what do you want? I have werewolves to wrangle and a House to reestablish.”
To see your head on a pike outside my House, Envy thought.
He felt Alexei’s gaze boring into the back of his head, reminding him to set his personal feelings aside.
Camilla’s silver gaze flashed into his mind. He shut it down.
“Perhaps I simply was bored, dearly twin.”
Vittoria’s expression didn’t shift at the odd phrase. Maybe she wasn’t part of his game. Or maybe she would make it difficult for him.
“And?” She climbed up another step. Only two steps separated him from the Goddess of Death. “Are you finally ready to play?”
His gaze sharpened on her. It was impossible to tell whether she was hinting at the game or was simply baiting him.
“Is that your price?” he asked, steeling himself.
“If we’re negotiating, I want a sample first.” Victory flared in her eyes. “See what it’s worth to me.”
She ascended another step, then the final one.
“Any objections, Your Highness?”
Vittoria leaned over, slowly pushing his legs apart and settling herself between them.
Her palms flattened on his thighs, slowly stroking upward, her thumbs following the inner seam of his trousers, stopping just shy of his cock.
It didn’t so much as twitch.
Vittoria arched a brow. “Well, now. This is rather surprising.”
She raked her nails over the tops of his thighs next, attempting to spark some sensation. His cock had no intention of playing along with his scheme.
Envy wasn’t sure whether he felt like laughing or cursing.
Vittoria grew annoyed.
“Do we need to bring someone else in for our fun?” she demanded, attention flicking to Alexei. “Perhaps your second should join us.”
Alexei came around to the front of the throne, his expression cold. “Should I get the woman now?”
Vittoria’s head cocked to one side; then a wretched smile curved her lips. “No. Our little prince here is going to close his eyes. Think of this woman.”
Envy gritted his teeth but attempted to summon an image of Camilla, no matter how wrong it felt. He closed his eyes, closed out the throne room, recalled Camilla soaking in her bath earlier. How the water had caressed her curves, the steam mixing with her floral scent, her gaze sharp as he teased her.
He’d wanted to shuck off his clothes and step into the tub with her, drawing her onto his lap as he dampened a cloth and dragged it over every inch of her glorious skin, her nipples pebbling from the sensation, making his mouth water from the sight.
He jolted from his memory.
“There it is.”
Vittoria was licking her lips and rubbing his erection. She’d only gotten the first lace of his trousers undone when he softened. She glared at him.
“What seems to be the issue?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I don’t know,” he lied.
“Are you in love?” Vittoria asked, her tone dripping with accusation.
“Of course not.”
She pushed to her feet, her cheeks flushed with annoyance. “Your bedroom skills are legendary. Am I to believe the rumors are all false?”
“I’m tired. I have a lot on my mind,” he said. “And you know I don’t particularly like you.”
“And you’ve particularly liked everyone you’ve fucked before?”
He hadn’t, further complicating matters. He tossed his hands up, frustrated. “I’ll try again.”
Vittoria folded her arms across her chest, clearly annoyed. “What does this mystery woman look like? Glamour works wonders.”
Everything inside him seized at the thought. He did not want to fuck someone wearing Camilla’s face. When he took her to his bed, it would be her.
His mouth pressed into a firm line.
Alexei shook his head at his refusal to play along, answering for him.
“She has silver hair and eyes. Stands a little over five feet three inches tall. Gold skin. Full mouth, slightly upturned eyes.”
Vittoria flashed another crooked grin. She moved around to the back of his throne, leaning across his shoulder.
“Close your eyes, Prince Envy.”
Her hand shifted, slowly undoing the top button of his shirt. He hid his flinch. The last time she’d been near his chest, her taloned hand had punched through it.
She slowly licked down along the column of his throat.
He fought the urge to leap up and put distance between them.
“Let’s pretend your silver-haired beauty is here.” Vittoria’s skin brushed against his. “In your deepest, most secret fantasies, does she close those full lips around your thick length while you sit back on your throne?”
Her fingers trailed lower.
“Or does she bend over this armrest here”—she traced the spot where his hand curled over his throne, his grip tightening—“and let you take her from behind?”
Envy thought about what Alexei had suggested earlier. He didn’t need to actually have Vittoria in his bed to incite jealousy. He only needed to give the appearance that he was aroused by the Goddess of Death.
Vittoria continued whispering sinful tableaus in his ear, tempting him with thoughts of Camilla. He closed his eyes, imagining everything Vittoria said.
Slowly trailing his fingers up the back of Camilla’s legs, the slight swishing of silk as her skirts lifted off her body. Her bare skin, soft and welcoming. He’d draw her gown farther up, baring her as he slowly pushed her up against his throne.
He’d go to his knees, kissing his way up, his hands drifting over the curve of her bottom, then sliding around to hold her hips, and dip within, ensuring that she was wet and ready.
Vittoria had painted a vivid picture, her hands roaming down his chest. But Envy had stopped listening to her, thinking only of the woman in his fantasy, glancing back at him over her shoulder as he finally dragged his cock against her entrance.
Soft, throaty laughter sounded from behind him.
Envy had gotten so hard from the erotic image, from the look of impatience on Camilla’s face, as she pushed herself onto him.
He was so lost to the fantasy that he almost missed the commotion outside his throne room.
FIFTY-ONE
“I NEED TO speak with the prince.”
The gray-haired butler’s expression was one of deep contemplation as he barred Camilla from entering House Envy. How odd.
“The prince…” He trailed off.
“Envy,” she said, watching for any flicker of recognition.
If the prince hadn’t brought them here, hadn’t told her they were in his circle, Camilla would have thought they were somewhere else entirely.
“Is the prince here?”
Clarity flashed.
“His Highness. Prince Envy. Yes. Yes, of course.”
The demon nodded several times, almost absently. Then turned on his heel and began striding in the opposite direction, not looking to see whether she followed.
She waited on the palace’s front step, debating whether she should return to the cottage.
Cursing, Camilla closed the door and hurried after the demon, wondering at the strangeness.