Throne of the Fallen полностью

His smile was as sharp as his words had been, but he needed to push her until that hard wall she’d erected broke. It was high time he knew what he was dealing with.

Lennox wanted her to accompany him to the Underworld.

The Fear Collector had given her the next clue.

He wanted to know why. Why her. With her rare talent. With her expansive knowledge of his realm. With her ability to withstand most demonic influence.

Who was Miss Camilla Antonius?

He was damn well going to find out.

No more waiting, no more games. If he had to be ruthless, so be it.

Envy took a step toward her, impressed she didn’t retreat. Males twice her size would cower before a Prince of Hell.

“My spies have unearthed lots of curious information on your father.”

Camilla froze.

“You spied on us?”

She’d spit the question out like it tasted foul.

He inclined his head. Envy didn’t like sparking emotions tied to his brother’s sin, but the angrier Camilla got, the less likely she was to hold on to all her secrets.

“What are you, Camilla? Immortal? Halfling? Or just a deviously talented human liar?”

Fury laced her tone.

“What other absurd theories would you like to add, Your Highness? A lioness? An eagle? I know,” she mocked, “maybe I’m a dire wolf.”

“Why do you intrigue so many dark beings, Camilla, if that’s even your true name? What do they sense that my brothers and I cannot? Why are you a necessary piece to the game? Lennox chose you. Why?”

Her expression shuttered completely.

And something inside him went feral.

He stalked closer, needing to know what she was hiding, needing to know her.

This little game had reached an end.

His sin lashed out. There was a wall between him and her will and he barreled into it, driving his power at it over and over, envisioning it like a wall of ice.

Nearly impenetrable until he made a tiny crack.

A tiny fissure was all he needed for his sin to finally burst through.

Camilla responded to envy, he’d seen it before. Envy projected images into her mind, both to fuel his power while he drained himself and to entice her true emotions to surface.

He pictured the Goddess of Death, when she’d fucked his second in front of him. Her ancient lavender eyes had locked on Envy, attempting in vain to stoke his sin.

At once, both he and Camilla were in that memory together, reliving his thoughts beat by beat as Camilla watched, confused, through his mind.

His focus traveled over her gown, obviously chosen with this tableau in mind. Vittoria always was the theatrical twin; it was a wonder she and Emilia had ever convinced his brothers—and the whole realm—that they were one entity all those years ago.

Vittoria’s dress was nothing more than two swaths of lavender material that covered her breasts, then gathered at the middle before pooling to the floor. Long sections of bronze skin flashed with each of her movements.

Envy kept his emotions from that night away from Camilla, only showing her the goddess as Vittoria watched him, her desire for him bleeding through his memories, funneling straight into Camilla.

He neglected to reveal that he hadn’t been aroused and never would be by Vittoria.

He recalled more of that encounter, how his second’s hands had roamed the goddess’s body, how her low moans had started; he stoked Camilla’s jealousy until he was nearly drunk on it. He could sense her pushing back at his mental grip, shoving and trying to force her way out, but it was working. Camilla was wild with envy.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said to Vittoria in the memory. “Quite literally.”

“And I do so love the burn.” Vittoria spun in Alexei’s arms, pressing her backside against his groin, and slowly gyrated. From this new position, she could watch Envy while she worked the vampire into a lust-fueled frenzy. A task she’d already completed if Alexei’s curses and moans were any indication.

“If you’re trying to stoke my sin,” Envy drawled, “you’ll have to do better than that.”