Throne of Secrets (Prince of Sin #2)

Fifteen Prince Gluttony

A FTER A SUCCESSFUL venture to the market to enact my plot to find Adriana and potentially unearth my secret lover’s identity, I returned to House Gluttony feeling fractionally better as I headed for the royal library. Despite my brother’s House of Sin being a giant library, I was unwilling to leave all the research to Sloth.

Not because of pride or any other sin, but because of the simple fact that I had one of the best collections of books dedicated to the history of ice dragons.

There had to be something useful in one of them. I refused to think otherwise.

I strode with purpose, filtering through theories uninterrupted. This time of day, as an afternoon storm rolled in and my court was slowly recovering from the previous night’s parties, my House was quiet, the hallways blissfully empty.

It wouldn’t remain this way for long.

With the news of the competition out and the participants’ drawings scheduled, there would be a new layer of complications I’d need to contend with. But that worry could wait.

I traveled down the winding corridor of the east wing, the ice-blue silk panels of wallpaper depicting ice dragons in flight and battle. With each scene I passed, the beautiful artwork felt more like a taunt than an ode to the creatures I so admired.

My hunter had been slain, which meant my circle had been attacked. There was no greater motivation to use every moment I could to uncover something that might help.

I paused outside the library’s ornately carved doors, haunted by the creatures I’d spent decades adoring. Two dragons faced each other, mirror images of ruthless beauty that seemed poised to attack. They were crafted of birchwood, and the artisan had used my tattoo as inspiration. The dragons alerted anyone who entered that they were guarding the vast knowledge of my kingdom.

I pushed the doors open, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of leather and ink as I made my way to the back section, where hundreds of years of dragon history were shelved.

I pulled book after book from the floor-to-ceiling cases, stacking them high on a table, and rolled up my sleeves. I would be successful today; failure was not an option I’d accept.

The first book was more observation of dragons—from hatchlings to adolescents to adults. What they ate, how they behaved, mating dances and rituals, battle tactics, nesting; everything was keenly observed and reported on. The second history was from hunters at Merciless Reach, detailing skirmishes and any insights gleaned from battling the great beasts.

I called for a cold supper, barely stopping to eat as I scanned book after book.

“Gods’ blood,” I swore, rubbing my temples. “There’s got to be something.”

I went over our summit, turning over the conversation with my brothers. Greed’s suspicion about witches wasn’t far off from my own fears. I would need to pay Pride a visit soon.

There had to be a way to get Sursea to talk; surely I could find out what she wanted most and offer it up. Within reason. I picked up the next book. At first there wasn’t anything, then, just as I was about to quit for the night, a note scribbled in the margin caught my attention.

I read the passage over, hoping it truly was as promising as I thought.

No scientific proof to date, but one scholar posed an interesting question. Might a tonic created from royal vampire venom thrall dragons into speaking mind to mind without the need for a witch’s spell? Regardless of outcome, it might be worth pursuing.

I could have kissed the scholar who’d scribbled the idea. Emilia hadn’t detected any spells and yet Silvanus still hadn’t woken up. I wasn’t sure what else could cause a dragon to slumber in such a way that nothing roused it. Royal vampire venom might be exactly what I needed.

For the first time in what felt like ages, a spark of hope ignited in my chest.

I rang the servants’ bell located in the library and within moments Jarvis arrived.

“Your Highness called?”

“Send a missive to the new vampire prince requesting an audience within the hour.”

Jarvis cleared his throat delicately. “And if he declines?”

“Insist. Blade’s court is in a precarious position; he doesn’t need another enemy. But he could gain a favor if he chooses correctly.”

Jarvis bowed at the waist. “I’ll send the request straightaway, Your Highness.”

Blade was no fool. He’d granted me entry to Malice Isle shortly after my request was sent, even going so far as permitting me to use my magic to transport directly into his castle.

It was obvious he was angling to turn this meeting in his favor, and I was prepared to offer the support of House Gluttony should he need it. If he played nicely tonight.

After dethroning the previous vampire prince by a brutal show of violence—at which my spies reported Envy had been present and played a large role in his mysterious game—Blade’s court had become increasingly divided. Warring vampires and their bloodlust were issues no one wanted to deal with; they could be too unpredictable, too driven by instinct.

One faction had immediately sworn fealty to him, despite the fact that his eyes were dark crimson and not the typical blue of royals. The second faction wanted to place a blooded heir on the throne. During this time of upheaval, the new prince needed all the allies he could get.

Word in the shadows claimed Blade would soon be in the market for a political union and he might seek to wed outside the vampire realm.

I stood in the darkly Gothic antechamber of his throne room, toeing at the bloodstone-checkered tile, awaiting the announcement of my arrival.

Zarus, the previous prince, had an affinity for all things blood colored, proving taste was truly subjective. I had to admit the stone was unique, but if I had a penchant for guzzling blood, I wouldn’t drench my castle in the color. Best to leave some things understated.

The collection of iron sconces twisted into finger bones added an extra layer of the darker season charm, something mortals called Halloween or fall.

Flames on the candles danced, casting odd shadows around the chamber.

Val was eerily still beside me, dressed in the battle leathers all hunters wore. Her knives were on full display, the belt strapped to her hips slung low and stocked well.

“A bit on the nose, isn’t it?” I asked my second, trying to soothe the strain. She flicked her attention to my boots, watching as I kicked at the bloodstone.

“Did you expect anything less for a leech?”

“Impressive collection of knives, demon.”

Val spun on her heel at the sound of the low, gravel-like voice, a knife already in each fist. She would have had her blade pressed to the new prince’s throat if his hadn’t already found its way to hers. Blade had earned his name well.

I grinned. Not many beings ever snuck up on me or Val. Even fewer lived to tell the tale. The vampire prince had a reputation as wild as mine, and his truly was earned.

“Blade.”

“Axton.”

I jerked my chin at his weapon. “Greeting guests with your namesake is poor form.”

His answering grin would have had a mortal pissing themselves. It made me like him more.

“Your second calling me a leech in my own court is in equally bad taste.”

A hint of fang gleamed under the candlelight.

I leaned in, squinting. “Tell me, how often do you sharpen your fangs to get that menacing sheen? Once a week, twice?”

His booming laughter rattled the sconces. He slipped his dagger back into his holster.

“Come.” Blade strode down the corridor, away from his throne room, glancing over his shoulder with that shit-eating grin. “We’ll have a drink.”

Val shivered in place.

This was going to be an interesting night.

Blade swung open the door to what appeared to be a vampire kitchen. No staff bustled around, which was either a very good thing or rather unfortunate. Giant hooks hung from the ceiling, leaving no doubt what they were used for.

“Well, then.” I stepped across the threshold and glanced around. “This is wildly unsettling.”

“Don’t worry”—Blade smiled—“you’re not here to be drained and served to my court.”

“How comforting,” Val mumbled, eyeing the giant slab of ice conveniently placed under the hooks that seemed to be keeping urns of blood cold enough to become slush.

The kitchen was dank, smelled metallic, and boasted overflowing amounts of fruit and jugs of wine—all plum colored and highly suspect.

Blade grabbed three glasses from a cabinet and set them in front of us, pulling a flask from inside his suit and pouring out what I prayed was straight whiskey. Or maybe arsenic.

He clanked his against Val’s first, eyes gleaming with mirth as she recoiled.

“Well?” He tossed back his drink and slammed the glass down. “What are we bargaining for tonight, Prince?”

There was no sense in working my way up to it. I knew from interacting with the vampire over the years that Blade was direct and appreciated the same approach.

“I need your venom. A vial or two, if you please.”

His brows shot up at that. He scrutinized me closely now. “Is this some weird fetish your court is trying out? You know, I have heard interesting rumors even all the way down here.”

“I’d be relieved if it was. But no. I have other reasons.”

His dark crimson gaze held mine for a few moments. He knew I couldn’t lie, so what I said had to be the truth, odd as the request had been. Maybe he was wondering if I was mad.

Blade folded his arms across his chest, leaning a hip against the wooden table that served as an island from hells. Gods only knew what was prepared on that ghastly thing.

I had to consciously keep my lip from curling at the thought.

“You can’t make a vampire without an actual vampire.”

Val snorted. “I assure you, you have nothing to worry about on that account.”

His attention slid to Val. There was something in his look that reminded me of a lion who was considering if a fight would be worth the effort to expend his energy.

The spark that flickered to life indicated it just might be.

“I am willing to offer something favorable in return,” I said, using the tone of the jovial rake I was known to be. “Rumors suggest you need friends, desperately.”

At that he snorted. “ Desperate is not a term I’m familiar with, now or ever. I need a mate. And I need an heir. Know anyone who’d be a good match?” He didn’t take his amused gaze from Val, enjoying antagonizing her far too much. “Word around the realm suggests you’re about to be a bit of an expert with finding a bride.”

“Alas, it’s regrettably true. But I’m sure plenty will want the second-most infamous rake in the Seven Circles once I’ve retired the crown. Your prospects will brighten faster than those pearly white fangs.”

He cocked his head, losing a bit of the humor as he looked me over again.

It seemed our negotiation was about to begin.

“I want a favor of my choosing at any point in the future. Friends are fickle. Relationships change. I want a sworn oath, right here and now, or you can go home without any venom.”

Val stiffened. She hadn’t been expecting his request, but I had. It was the only way for a prince in crisis to guarantee an ally remained his without fear or second-guessing. We were in the Underworld and none of us came here by way of shining morals.

Unlike us Princes of Sin, vampires couldn’t detect lies.

Still, I hesitated to agree. What Blade wanted was no small request.

Demons were like Fae in one regard—if we swore an oath or vow, we needed to adhere to its terms or the magic binding us would wreak havoc, often causing a tiny inconvenience like death.

Immortals tended to get a little touchy about that sort of thing and rarely entered into any binding agreement. Myself very much included.

Being prepared for his request didn’t stop my visceral reaction to it.

Silence stretched as I considered my options.

While I’d waited for Blade to accept my request for this meeting, I’d tried to come up with an alternate bargain that would be equally appealing.

I hadn’t found anything then, and that remained damnably true now.

One edge of his mouth curved up as my fingers tapped a beat against my dagger’s hilt. He knew he had the upper hand.

I thought of Jackson and how his fate might become that of many more.

My grip tightened on my dagger as I unsheathed it. “Fortunately, this will hurt. You.”

Blade’s eyes gleamed with triumph. He hadn’t been as confident as he’d let on.

He held his palm out to me, not even wincing as I dragged the blade across his skin, tearing into it as if it were no more substantial than butter.

Once I did the same to my own palm, I waited.

“I bind the Prince of Gluttony into a favor of my choosing, at a date of my choosing, in which he will not hesitate to act upon the request at once.”

I repeated the words, watching with a bit of satisfaction as the stoic vampire finally showed a hint of pain. His throat bobbed slightly; the sensation, I’d been told, was like hellfire crawling up each of your veins as it bound a Prince of Hell to someone.

For my part, my pulse beat more rapidly, my breath coming faster as my magic infused the agreement. Blood oaths were a little different than the vow I’d just sworn. A blood oath didn’t cause pain. But they were also typically shorter than a vow.

Once Blade straightened, he grabbed a vial from the same cabinet he’d taken the glasses from. He held it to his fang, and I watched in horrified fascination as royal-blue glowing venom filled the container. When it reached the top, he pulled his fang away, licking his lower lip as Val made a gagging noise and took the vial from him.

“Are we through here?” Val asked, handing the vial to me.

I nodded. The venom was not exactly ice-cold when I grabbed it, but it wasn’t warm by any means. Vampires were certainly as far from warm-blooded as they came.

Val shot the prince an inscrutable look. “Thank the gods. I’ll be in the corridor.”

“Always a pleasure, little sinner,” Blade mocked silkily. He turned his attention to me. “If you’re hoping to thrall someone, administer it at dawn or twilight. It’ll have the most potent effect then.”

As soon as I returned from Blade’s court, I briefly considered visiting the Seven Sins to see if by some miracle Lady F had waited several hours for my arrival. Despite the chaos of my life lately, I craved her company in a way that grew more ravenous with each passing day.

Of course, I still had my dark suspicion regarding her identity.

And that drove me wilder than anything else.

I’d have an answer to that question soon enough, though.

While I was in Malice Isle, my spies had been watching Adriana’s house tonight, ready to report on any movements. No one had informed me that she’d left. If I went to the Seven Sins and my mystery lover was there, I could’ve ruled out my rival once and for all.

Instead of feeding that desire to track her now, I flew to Merciless Reach, tonic clutched in hand, and went straight to the command center chamber.

“Any updates?”

Felix looked up from the maps spread across the table. “No new dragon sightings, no attacks. Hunters have been staying near the outpost per your orders, Your Highness.”

“Wrath patrolled tonight?”

“Yes. You just missed him. I accompanied him, then came here to see if any area stood out for our next search.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “You checked their nests?”

Felix shook his head, his expression as tight as I imagined mine was. “Didn’t want to risk sending a hunting party that close on the off chance they have any hatchlings. And Prince Wrath was concerned with the barrens. He wanted to make sure no other alphas had sent scouts to see what this pack was up to.”

“And?”

“No sign of any other packs.”

Thank the wicked gods for that. The vial of vampire venom weighed heavily against my chest. I didn’t want to offer any false hope, so I kept it tucked away.

“I’ll check the nests on my next patrol.”

With a pat on Felix’s shoulder, I transported myself back to House Gluttony. Unease followed as I made my way to my private chambers, trying to anticipate the dragons’ next move.

It was an effort in futility and not the best use of my energy.

Blade said the ideal time to administer the venom would be dusk or dawn, and dawn was still a few hours away. No matter how much I wanted to forge ahead and give Silvanus the venom, I needed rest. It was going to be a hellish few weeks and I couldn’t risk looking tired and run-down when the whole realm would be watching my every move.

I stripped off my clothes and crawled into bed.

I tossed and turned, my mind flooded with images of crimson eyes, steaming entrails, and the expression on Jackson’s mother’s face when I’d delivered the news that her only son had been killed in an accident. It was the closest to the truth I could give her without lying. If I didn’t uncover the truth behind the dragon’s madness, many other families would be grieving.

The dreams continued to torment me, but this time they took a wicked approach.

Lady Frost’s cobalt-and-silver hair fanned across my pillows, her glamoured face half hidden by a mask as I trailed openmouthed kisses along her silky skin. She was the most exquisitely devastating thing I’d ever seen. Even in my dreams she was a feast for the senses.

I admired her nude form, lovingly caressing her, exploring every inch of her as I worked my way down her body, my new favorite uncharted territory.

I pressed a chaste kiss to her inner thigh, then moved my way back up, loving her cursed protest that I left her wanting. I’d devour her soon enough. But first…

I took her mouth in a searing kiss, pressing her against the mattress, my desire for her burning away all thoughts and worries. I wanted to flip her over and slap her pert little ass, watching her squirm from the sensation as my hand dipped lower, spreading her arousal as I spanked her to climax.

My cock ached with the need to claim her, but I craved her taste on my tongue more.

Half asleep, half aware, I stroked myself to the dream, my grip tightening as I moved up and down my shaft.

In my vision, I kissed my way down her lithe form again, this time intent on feeding her every desire. Like a sinner hell-bent on redemption, I worshipped every part of her before I fitted myself between her legs, hoisting each one over a shoulder to spread her wide; a prince finally sitting down to his feast.

I looked up the length of her body, wanting to watch her as I brought my mouth to that secret place between her thighs and—

I lurched backward as her dark hair faded to a pale ice blue.

My pulse pounded furiously when the glamour and mask fell away next, revealing the truth I’d been avoiding seeing.

Her mouth curved into a familiar taunting smile as she dragged her attention down my body in the most gloriously slow sweep, finally settling it on my twitching cock. The tip of her pink tongue swept across her lower lip before she sank her teeth into it.

A raw hunger crossed her features, reminding me it was only a dream.

My hips involuntarily thrust forward, forcing me to pump into my hand, a bead of precum leaking from the tip. She didn’t remove her gaze from me, as if fascinated by my desire.

I watched, frozen in either horror or deep fascination, as she trailed her fingers along the curve of her breast, past her ribs, teasing her lower belly, before dipping lower…

Gods’ fucking blood.

I pumped my fist over my cock, watching as she pleasured herself, her fingers circling her glistening clit before sinking deeper.

A soft moan slipped past her parted lips, making me impossibly harder. I’d never fallen victim to my brother’s sin of choice before, but in that moment, I envied her fingers.

She withdrew them as if she’d known exactly what had snared my attention, then swirled them across her arousal, stroking herself torturously slowly.

I couldn’t look away if my cursed soul depended on it.

I wanted to throw her back and sink into her, setting a punishing rhythm, pounding hard and fast until she clenched around me and we both shouted our release.

Hatred, it turned out, was a powerful aphrodisiac. I’d never been more aroused by the thought of making a lover fall apart.

My sweet nemesis lifted one hand to her breast, kneading it as she continued to play with herself for my pleasure and hers. My world narrowed down to just us.

There was no mystery lover. No Seven Sins. No looming dragon threat. Just the female I wanted to bring to her knees…

Our hands worked in tandem, keeping pace as if competing to see who would finish first.

Rivals even in this most intimate moment.

She kept those cool eyes fixed on me in the most erotic show of defiance I’d ever seen as she rode her fingers to climax, spreading her thighs to make sure I drank my fill of her.

My orgasm followed immediately, erupting all over her stomach.

And my sheets.

I jolted up in bed, skin damp with sweat, cock at half-mast.

Devil’s blood. I hadn’t come so hard in a long time. I fell back onto my mattress, chest rising and falling rapidly as I caught my breath.

Even awake, I couldn’t rid myself of the twisted fantasy that had played out. Maybe witches were involved—I certainly felt like I’d been cursed.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, cleaned myself up with my already soiled sheet, and rolled out of bed. I padded over to the washbasin and splashed icy water on my face, then straightened up, glancing at my reflection in the mirror, unsure what to make of that…

Punishment.

That’s what that was, and my sin loved it. The sadistic bastard.

Unable and unwilling to go back to bed, I quickly dressed and headed for the dungeon.

Dawn would break soon, which meant it was time to feed Silvanus the vampire venom.

Once a Rake, Forever a Scoundrel

By Miss Ryleigh Hughes, the Wicked Daily

Dear Sinners,

On the same day as his grand announcement of the competition to find a wife, Prince Gluttony’s servants were spotted entering the residence of a certain journalist he’s been feuding with. Rumors are running wild regarding what, if anything, the gesture means.

Most whispers suggest it was simply one more taunt in their public war. And I’d have to agree. It’s no secret that there is no love lost between these two.

Aside from practical gifts—like parchment and quills—Ms. Escoffier, modiste to the elite, was seen removing several bolts of her prized fabrics from her shoppe. Was it another calculated move to infuriate the reporter who’s given him hell over the years, or a way to charm the circle?

Anything is possible when it comes to this rake of the highest order, though this journalist doesn’t believe his rival will be amused by the public spectacle.

Whatever his motive, this bold move sent a flood of new suitors racing to enter their names for his competition this morning. Lines of hopeful brides twisted through the streets leading to the palace. The wait was so long, servants brought steaming mugs of hot chocolate to those waiting in the frigid temperatures.

Perhaps building a frenzy was his true goal all along. If so, bravo, dear Prince. You’ve certainly charmed your way into more hearts, even if you’ve made a greater enemy in the process…

As the colorful Miss Match said, until next time, sweet sinners. Stay scandalous!