Throne of the Fallen

CAMILLA HAD JUST killed a man for less. But Envy’s brazen kiss… brought her back to life.

If she’d been trapped in a cocoon of ice, frozen from the horror of what she’d done, she’d broken free now. His fire ravished all the dark, cold places in her soul, warming her, making her feel everything. Protected. Safe. Alive. Passionate.

Strong hands touched everywhere: her hair, her throat, cupping her breasts, running over her hips and thighs, stroking each area like her body was his favorite canvas.

Her gasps were his paint, her lips his greatest inspiration.

He tasted and teased, nipped and owned. Never relinquishing her mouth for long, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance she never wanted to end.

The kiss was a battle, a plea, a path to salvation or their greatest destruction.

Their game had become intimate, each move he made provoking one of her own. When she teased him, he returned the favor until they were clawing at each other’s clothes, shedding them as quickly as they’d shed any notion of restraint.

Camilla didn’t care what it was. Masterpiece, chaos, it made no difference. It was pleasure: intoxicating and pure, and she drank it down, sip after decadent sip.

His callused skin was rough against her softness, the friction a wonderful, unexpected delight for the senses. Camilla had hated this scrap of a gown in the vampire court; now she relished how much skin it exposed, the access it granted him to stroke and caress.

She touched him back as freely, flattening her palms on his bare chest, marveling at how soft his skin was there despite the hard muscle underneath, despite how torn it had been only moments before.

The intricately crafted tattoos marking his arm and chest were just as beautiful as the hunter-green ink at his belt line; she traced them all, listening to the rasp of his breath as she moved lower, along the line of his trousers, slung so low on his hips it ought to be criminal.

Despite his injuries, he was already aroused, the thick length of him straining against his pants.

Camilla wanted to pull him free, offer him the same release he’d offered her.

She went to undo his trousers.

His arms, capable of slaying giants, were gentle when they came around her, drawing her closer, staying her movements.

What had started as hungry, greedy kisses slowed into something more tender, gentle but never shy. Their lips began to savor, to move as if—for once—they had all the time in the world to learn all about each other, explore.

It was languorous, drowsy. The sort of kiss that made knees weak and heartbeats strong. It took her a moment to appreciate the shift, enjoy the sweetness of it.

His tongue touched hers, heat pooling low in her belly from the lazy stroke, invoking memories of when he’d made that same movement between her thighs, kissing the apex of her body until her back had arched off the bed and heat bolted up her spine.

When his hands moved over her now, it was less about possession, less about feral need; it was a question that made her breath catch, an answer that threatened to undo her.

All the teasing, the private games, the allure of knowing they only had one night, and she’d wanted to make it last, draw it out for as long as possible. It had just been a fun game. A way to forget her loneliness for a while, a lighthearted way to pass the time.

What Envy was doing now, this move… it threatened her carefully constructed walls.

Camilla had thought she knew the rules of this private game, but now he was kissing her like she meant something. Like this wasn’t just about winning one night.

Like he might be playing to win something more.

And that awful realization, that he might in fact still be playing at all, made her face a truth she wasn’t ready for.

Camilla felt as if she were falling, plummeting from the heavens to the earth, and he was the star she clung to, their desire lighting the whole damn sky.

Or maybe they were a comet, destined to crash.

Camilla drew away, touching her swollen lips; they tingled, seeking the press of his.

Envy brushed her hair back, cupping her face between his hands as if she were precious, the most intriguing piece of art he’d ever laid eyes on.

Those hands still had blood on them. But his violence didn’t frighten her.

She watched as his palm slid to her chest, feeling the beat of her heart instead of tracing her peaked breast, still aching with want.

The way Envy looked at her now was dangerous. So, brutally dangerous.

More than the dagger he’d wielded with ease, or the cold, efficient way he’d dispatched creatures twice his size. The sharp edge of his lust had been honed to a finer point by something… else, something that could strike with more precision, travel deeper until it pierced a vital part inside her. Whatever game this was… it could slip between her ribs faster than he would slip out from beneath her sheets after their one night together ended.

His gaze never wavered from hers, so she saw the moment when he realized what she had seen, before banishing it from his face. A flicker in a storm, there one moment and blown away the next. But Camilla had seen it for what it was, knew it would never last.

This would always be a game to him. And the tender move, the sweet kiss… this play knocked her wildly off-balance. Only to worry she was tumbling all by herself.

“I should go,” she said tightly, suddenly needing space.

Seeming to understand, he clasped her wrist in his hand, drawing her palm to his lips.

He pressed a kiss to her skin, then stepped away.

“Bathe. Rest,” he said, backing into his bedchamber, giving her leave to exit.

A chasm opened between them, stretching wide, where moments ago there had only been closeness. A desire to breach all that separated them. At least on her end.

The tenderness was gone, replaced once again by his cool indifference.

Envy was content with their game as it was. And she’d broken the unspoken rule. She’d fallen for the illusion.

“I’ll see you in a little while for dinner.”

Camilla opened her mouth, to call him back, to explain why she suddenly needed to protect her heart, that this private game had somehow started to mean something it shouldn’t. She wanted to cry out that she wasn’t who he thought she was, but the only words that came out were a softly spoken lie.

“A bath sounds good.”

Camilla’s head rested against the lip of the tub, her silvery hair pinned high to avoid getting wet, the water’s warmth finally soothing her. She was trying to forget Vexley’s attack and subsequent death. The way he’d looked so broken and fragile as she’d stepped over him.

Then there was Wolf. He’d wanted to speak with her, for a while now. Had played a dangerous game, trespassing on the prince’s land.

With the real game underway, Camilla knew she couldn’t ignore Wolf forever.

Then there was Envy…

Excitement was something she’d craved while living her quiet little mortal life in Waverly Green. And so she’d been a willing player in their flirtation. Had enjoyed it thoroughly. There’d been a dark sense of pleasure in constantly upping the ante with him. She liked that he didn’t hold back, that he made his move boldly and ruthlessly, that he’d pursue her, then pull back, waiting to see what she’d do, delighting when she bested him. He’d treated her like an equal. His constant playing exciting her on multiple levels, not purely physical.

Their dynamic had been working wonderfully until that kiss tonight.

She knew what she needed to do next: end their game. And not by giving in to the heat that burned between them like flying near the fiery sun.

Camilla needed to put distance between them, set new boundaries. She’d focus on the game master, on helping Envy win, since that seemed to somehow be tied to her role; then she’d win back her talent and return to Waverly Green.

It was a good enough plan, even if she didn’t feel thrilled by it. It was the safe choice, the one that guaranteed she’d remain free of more heartbreak. She’d already experienced enough of that to last a lifetime. And Envy… even if she wished to share her secret with him, she couldn’t bring herself to. It was best to end their game now and walk away unscathed.

Her eyes drifted shut, the promise of sleep tugging her conscience under. Much too soon a quiet knock broke the serenity.

“Come in.”

There was no logical reason for Camilla’s skin to suddenly pebble as if a cold wind had snaked through the warm bathing chamber, yet goose bumps rose along her flesh, her body aware of what her mind had yet to notice.

Her eyes cracked opened. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Prince Envy stood there, looking as sinful as Lucifer the moment he’d accepted his wickedness and fallen from grace.

She should demand he leave. She’d already concluded that this flirtation needed to end.

Camilla did not speak at all.

She wanted to know why he’d come. Maybe he knew that kiss had been too much. Had come too close to meaning something they both knew it didn’t.

She raised a brow, waiting.

He could explain himself; then she’d send him away.

Envy’s attention slowly meandered along the lines of her neck as if cataloguing the shape to later have painted. It was something he’d done before, like that unassuming swath of skin fascinated him, called to his need to have someone capture it on canvas.

“Two things drove me here, Miss Antonius,” he began. “First, I considered apologizing for my behavior.”

Her heart pounded faster. She’d been correct. The kiss was just another move.

A moment passed, followed by another.

She wondered if he hadn’t quite worked out his apology and why simply saying “I apologize for being a tremendous ass and ruining our game” seemed to be such a monumentally difficult task.

When he didn’t attempt to speak again, Camilla’s patience dwindled.

“What’s preventing you from accomplishing just that, Your Highness?”

His mouth curved, and Camilla knew at once he’d laid a trap. He’d been waiting for her to take the bait.

“I realized I would be lying. I’m not remotely sorry.”

“For which part?”

Curse her. That was not the question she’d intended to ask.

“You know which part.”

“That’s not the way this is supposed to work.”

“Do you want me to suddenly play by the rules?”

He knew she didn’t, the damn beast. His smile was victorious. He hadn’t come here to apologize at all; Envy had come here to restart their flirtation, to up the stakes once again.

“Were you to say the words, I’d have you out of that tub and on the bed this instant.” His voice was sin incarnate.

He continued, more slowly now, taking another step into the room.

“As an artist, I’m sure you can envision my tongue on the canvas of your bare body. I imagine we could make quite the masterpiece together. If you don’t forfeit now.”

Camilla’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay calm. “You have no morals.”

“True. But yours are as gray in tone as mine, my dear.”

“That’s hardly true.”

“What a cunning little liar you are.”

She was indeed.

“What is the second thing that brought you here?” she asked. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in this again, no matter how aroused she was feeling in the bath.

Heat kissed her cheeks that had nothing to do with the warm water.

He smiled, noticing her pinkened skin. “Thinking about my tongue, Miss Antonius?”

Camilla’s thighs squeezed together.

“No. I’m thinking of dinner.”

His attention moved to the bathwater, rippling from the subtle movement.

Hunger flashed in his eyes.

“Lie to me all you like, Camilla. But this isn’t over yet, and you know it. When you’re in bed tonight, fingers trailing over your deliciously swollen clit, you’ll be dreaming of my hand doling out your pleasure.”

Before she could argue, the damned demon gave her a mocking bow, then left.

Frustrated and highly aroused, Camilla slipped her hand beneath the water, doing exactly what the prince had said.

As she came, she made sure her moans were loud enough for the demon to hear across the cottage, hoping to drive him as wild as he’d driven her.