“Just outside the mainland.” The demon’s gaze methodically took in each inch of the chamber before coming to rest on the manacles. In a flash, his blade was gone and he was in front of me, gently bringing my wrists up for closer inspection. Red splotches that would turn into nasty bruises had Wrath’s anger flaring impossibly higher. His voice was now laced with deadly promise, and the air turned so frigid my teeth began to chatter. “If anyone chains you again, I will become every nightmare mortals have ever had of me and then some.”
Ice shot up the walls and coated the ceiling as the temperature continued to plummet. Chunks of stone cracked and fell to the ground. If he didn’t rein in his temper soon, we’d both be encapsulated in ice or buried under stone.
“What if I ask you to tie me up?”
The harsh expression on Wrath’s face faltered as he blinked down at me. He hadn’t expected that. Good. Perhaps we’d make it out of this realm before we turned into ice sculptures. I disentangled myself from his light grasp and wrapped my arms around his middle, listening to his heart beat faster from the embrace. Almost immediately, I felt warmer.
“Simply saying ‘I love you; I’m pleased you’re all right’ would have sufficed, too.”
A beat of silence passed, and I could practically feel Wrath straining to leash himself. Only his iron will would cage the immense power struggling to break out, to attack. I couldn’t imagine the discipline, the absolute control he had over his namesake sin, to finally wrangle his wrath into submission. The air warmed a fraction, though it was still deathly frigid.
He held me a little closer, as if comforting himself that I was safe and secure. “Torturing and disemboweling your enemies would be an act of love.”
“No one can deny you are a demon of action.” I snorted and drew back enough to see mirth entering his eyes in place of the icy rage, though there was still something haunted in his expression that wasn’t as quick to disappear. “Take me home, please. It’s been a long night. I need a warm bath and an entire bottle of demonberry wine.”
And, no matter what had just happened or the warning Vittoria tried imparting, I still wanted to claim my king in the flesh. That, more than anything else, would soothe me, mind, body, and cursed soul.
Wrath magicked us back to his bedchamber, reuniting our souls with our physical forms, and I blinked at a room encapsulated in ice. The ceiling, walls, fireplace—everything except the bed—were frozen, the ice so thick it gave off a bluish tint. I thought the Shadow Realm had been bad, but this was extreme. I gingerly pushed myself up from where I’d been lying and raised a questioning brow. Wrath ran a hand through his hair, the action drawing my attention to cuts on his knuckles I hadn’t noticed before.
“Did you have to fight wolves?” I asked, beckoning him to come closer. “Please. Let me see that.” Reluctantly he did, offering me his injured hand. “Why isn’t this healing?”
“I punched through the realms.”
His expression was coolly aristocratic, and if I hadn’t come to know him these months, I might have missed the subtle signs that he was still churning with emotion. His sensual mouth was set in a hard line, his chiseled jaw strained. There was a ruthless flicker in his gaze—an unyielding promise to commit terrible acts of violence—that gave away how close he’d just come to ripping the realm apart. A shiver rolled down my spine, and whatever dark place he’d been in disappeared.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Easily fixable.”
“I don’t care about the state of the room. Are you all right?”
The demon prince gave me a tight smile. “I am now.”
I’d never seen him lose his temper with such a massive showing of his power and wondered at the severity of his reaction. At what he might not be able to tell me or might not wish to tell me. I sensed he needed time to sort through it all and gave him a small smile in return. “As long as you’re certain.”
“I am.” He magically set the room to rights and had just called for the tub to be filled when there was a knock at the door. If I could have hexed someone right then, I would have.
“Don’t answer it,” I half-groaned. “I beg you.”
Wrath looked torn but heeded my request. After casting a ward to keep everyone away from entering his private quarters, he swept my legs out from under me and walked us into his bathing chamber, kicking the door shut behind us.
I hadn’t seen this room before and took in its elegant beauty. Slate-colored floors, black marble walls with gold veining, candles dripping ebony wax, faucets and fixtures in gleaming gold, and a massive claw-foot bathtub that could fit several people in the center of the room.
An oversized black crystal chandelier hung low over the tub, completing the look. The room was dark, sensual, and utterly relaxing. Just what I needed after my stressful evening.
The prince carefully deposited me into the bath, then returned with a chilled glass of demonberry wine, the silver seeds sparkling like miniature stars in the candlelight. For the first time in what felt like hours, I exhaled, feeling peaceful.
Wrath drew a stool over to the tub and sat, watching me sip my drink and submerge myself to my shoulders in the perfectly warmed water. “Do you want to talk about your sister?”
“Not particularly.” I sighed. “I still don’t understand why she wants to meet on the Shifting Isles. It would be much easier to simply talk here. Is there any reason why that you can think of?”
Wrath didn’t respond right away. “Maybe she has something there she wants you to see.”
“You’re probably right. But she could also simply tell me that. I don’t understand all the cloak-and-dagger theatrics. Though I suppose that is very Vittoria in a way. Maybe one of the only familiar aspects about her.” I took another sip of wine, savoring the bright flavors that burst over my tongue. “How did you punch your way into the Shadow Realm?”
“I’m the king of the underworld. The spirit realm is under my domain. And even if it wasn’t, do you really believe a lone werewolf would stop me from getting to you?”
“I’m not sure anything could stop you. What’s it like to be invincible?” I teased.
Wrath’s expression turned contemplative as he pulled a linen cloth from a tray near the tub and dunked it into the water. He upended a glass bottle of soap over it, then motioned for me to spin around. “Lift your hair.”
I happily obliged his request to pamper me. He dragged the soapy linen across my shoulders, gently washing my body before dipping it back into the water. Wrath, the mighty demon of war, was giving me a sponge bath. And it felt positively divine.
For someone who’d just frozen his entire bedchamber in a rage, he certainly could be warm and kind. At least where I was concerned. I doubted anyone else ever saw this side of the demon. Which made me appreciate his actions all the more.
Goose bumps rose along the careful lines he made from my neck, following the curve of my spine down to my bottom. He tenderly lifted one arm at a time, paying special care to my sore wrists. Slight coolness nipped at the air, and I realized he must be exercising an enormous amount of restraint to not have his anger overwhelm the temperature again.