Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2)

by Kerri Maniscalco

If that’s the way he wanted things to be between us now, fine. I didn’t need or want him. In fact, I’d say he could go straight to Hell, but we’d both accomplished that. He watched as I reined

Lololololz: "we'd both accomplished that."

Anger replaced lingering fear.

Neither are healthy emotions to form a solid relationship on.

“It’s the place stars fear to enter,” he whispered near my ear, his warm breath a severe contrast against the frosty air. I shuddered. “But never the devil. Darkness is seduced by him. As is fear.”

“Be cautious when making blood bargains with a prince of Hell. And under no circumstances should you ever make one involving the devil. What’s his is his. Only a fool would fight or challenge him.”

Holding his intense stare, I nodded back, thankful for his treachery. It was the last time I’d fall for his lies. With any luck, though, it would be the start of him and his wicked brothers falling for mine. I’d need to play my role well, or I’d end up dead like the other witch brides.

Aside from fear, this world thrives on both sin and desire in equal measure.” “Isn’t desire the same as lust?” “No. You can desire riches, power, or status. Friendship or vengeance. Desires are more complex wants than mere sins. Sometimes they’re good. Other times they reflect insecurities. This world is influenced by those who rule it. Over time it’s come to toy with us all.”

Wrath lay behind me, one heavy arm draped possessively over my waist as if daring any intruder to steal what he’d claimed as his. I should scoot away. And not just for propriety’s sake. Being this close to him was like playing with fire and I’d already felt his burn, but I didn’t want to move. I liked his arm on my body, the weight and feel and scent of him curled around me like a python. I wanted him to claim me, almost as much as I wanted him to be mine.

Back home, women were taught that those wants were evil, wrong. Men could indulge in their baser needs and no one called them ungodly. They were rakes, rogues—scandalous but not ostracized for their behavior. A man with a healthy sexual appetite was considered to be full of vitality, a prime catch. Experienced for his partner, should he ever decide to wed. While women were taught to remain virginal, pure. As if our wants were dirty, shameful things.

Point for effort, but execution is...ugh. Problematic at best.

Maybe I did know, and maybe that was the part that scared me. I wanted something I’d been warned against. And now all I had to do was reach out and welcome it. It was time to be brave, bold.

One my future husband might not approve of, but I didn’t care. Perhaps the only approval I would seek from now on was my own. To Hell, quite literally, with all else. If I was to be queen of this realm, I would embrace each part of it—and my true self—fully. “Tell me,” he whispered, his voice sliding like silk over my flushed skin. “What?” My own voice came out breathless. “I am your favorite sin.”

We might be in Hell, but he felt like Heaven.

Lololololz I just can't with some of these lines

Wrath finally slipped his fingers beneath the band of my skirt, brushing the soft skin between my hips, his touch featherlight. Goddess curse me. At the moment I didn’t care about his lies or betrayal. Nothing mattered except the feeling of his hands on my body.

Problematic AF

Whenever I felt the first tinges of hopelessness creeping in, I gritted my teeth and pushed on, head down, as the gusting wind continued to snap at me. I refused to succumb to the elements this early on in my mission. My sister would never give up on me. It would take far worse than ice to stop me now.

Lines like this bug me. Too meloddamatic?

“Have I ever told you your anger is like my own personal aphrodisiac?” No, he had not. But of course the demon ruling over war would be aroused by conflict.

The way he said it made my knees buckle. “Will I be the sacrifice?” “No.” Relief flooded through me at that one beautiful little word. “Your biggest fear or a secret of your heart will be wrenched from you as the sacrifice.”

Sure, so like an emotional rape? Cool, cool, cool. Actual rape not okay, but emotional rape is fine.

“And it will happen in front of every prince of Hell and all of our subjects in attendance. Fear is power here. The larger your fear, the greater the power you give us.

It was almost a void inside me, yawning open into endless darkness. I had the strangest impression that it had been waiting for me to tap into it, and once I acknowledged its existence, I was immediately drawn in. Now I felt everything. I tunneled down, down, down into my very center, near my wildly beating heart, and paused. My magic slumbered here. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did. I brought my consciousness around the magic, trying to get a better sense of it. Something ancient and powerful and spitting mad cracked an eye, furious at being awoken. I

there was no mention of a power

Oh, shes SpEcIAl. And that was super easy.

It was the late nineteenth century on earth, but it could be eight eons here.

Given my working-class standing, I had not associated with wealthy circles back home, so tomorrow would be a test of how well I could blend in. My path to vengeance would be a slow burn, not a raging inferno. By the time I invaded House Pride, I would be well versed in proper deception. When the demon responsible for Vittoria’s death finally felt the flames of my fury, I’d hopefully have burned his House of Sin to ash.

Demon finery in all its gothic glory.

He took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently. Then I remembered: he was no angel. And I was suddenly all too willing to be damned.

LOLOLOLOLZ. Again with these lines.

Curse this realm and its fiendish machinations. Its need for sin. My undeniable need for him. Right now there was no blood oath with the devil. No betrothal or obligations to my family. There was only this moment, this wicked prince, and the heat steadily building between us.

Wrath ought to count his demonic blessings he wasn’t the one standing here with me now. I’d take his precious blade to his throat, tear the clothes from my person and bathe in his warm blood as I slit him ear to ear.

The unexpected pleasure I felt, thinking such a dark, wicked thing yanked me back to my senses. While the flames of my fury banked, the embers of rage remained. I was not nearly as horrified as I should have been by my almost literal bloodlust.

focused intently on that anger, that spark in my core close to my magic’s source. It was as if a lava pit were bubbling inside me, ready to erupt. I’d never felt my power so strongly and realized it wouldn’t take much to harness it. All I had to do was reach in and grab it. I concentrated on my magic, imagined pulling it from wherever it originated and turning it into a handful of flame. Instead of fighting myself and forcing it to come, I let go.

I released everything except my wrath. That I held on to as if it were the most vital essence in my universe. Because it was the most vital thing in this circle of Hell. If the Prince of Wrath’s anger was a glacier, mine was a raging inferno. And it would not burn out quickly.

Everything about his movements indicated he was a predator.

Great artists might try to capture his likeness but would undoubtedly fail. There was a certain mastery about him that defied his true form from ever being cast in something as mundane as bronze or carved in marble.

Lololololz

“Fate may deal its hand, try encouraging our path or intervene, but we are ultimately free to choose our own destiny. Never doubt that.” “I thought you were without free will.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “Choice is granted to all. But for some it comes with a price.”

“I believe John Milton, a mortal poet, said it best. ‘Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.’ I told you the power of choice, the appeal it holds for me. I would do terrible things, unforgivable things, to choose my destiny. Cursed and wretched though it may be. It is mine. Unless you’ve been without true choice, you can’t understand the allure it holds.”

Goddess help me. The demon of war was a strategist on all levels.

Scoff

First, he was a prince of Hell, a mortal enemy to witches. Next, he was secretive and did not trust me any more than I trusted him with full disclosure. He also might feel lust around me, but that did not equal love. I wanted a true partner, an equal and confidant. Wrath would always hold his proverbial cards close, and I wasn’t sure he’d ever deal me in. Given the tenuous nature of our current relationship, I might never fully include him in my plans, either.

He tossed the pitcher aside and stalked toward me, his movements slow and deliberate. Here was the predator he barely kept hidden under all the fine clothing. His civilized appearance was simply a mask, a way to hide the truth of his nature. The hunter was now on full display and his new target was set firmly in his sights. A thrill shot through me before my smile vanished and I scrambled back.

But there was little for me to fear in the shadows. Soon they would do my bidding.

It was not my kind of book, obviously. A romance novel would have kept me up into the wee hours of the morning, never quite turning the pages fast enough while also trying desperately to savor each tension-filled interaction between the hero and heroine. I adored how they more often than not despised each other, and how that spark of disdain flamed into something else entirely. Real life certainly wasn’t anything close to a romance novel, but there was still a small part of the old me left that hoped for a happy ending. There was no denying a spark existed between me and Wrath—along with plenty of disdain—but the likelihood of it turning into love was the true fantasy.

The dam broke, and so did my will. My fingers swiftly loosened the buttons and stays of my trousers. I shimmied out of them, allowing the material to pool at my feet. My tunic was gone next. Wrath slid his attention from the top of my head to my toes, and pulled it up as slowly. There was no lust or warmth or appreciation in his gaze. Only anger. And he wasn’t alone in that feeling. I hated that he’d compelled me to disrobe. Choosing to do so in the Crescent Shallows was powerful, freeing. This was neither of those things. I would make him pay for this. As quickly as my need for revenge flared, it vanished with the next wave of his will.

Just no. How did this get past editoria?????

Sentient thought, emotion, and free will were locked deep inside me. All I knew was the sound of his voice, his desire. His will pumped through my veins, dominated me in every sense of the word. Became one with my heart. I did as he commanded. I became sin and vice. I was lustful. And I adored it.

Vengeance is poison, a slow death of self. Seek justice. Seek truth. But if you choose revenge over all else, you will lose more than your soul.” “You cannot seriously be claiming to care about my soul.” “Your grief cannot be extinguished through hatred. Tell me, do you feel as you imagined? Did spilling my blood heal your wounds? Have those scales of justice finally tipped into balance, or did you slip a little further into something you don’t recognize?”

Taking all that aside, I had to admit it was far better to be subjected to Wrath’s influence, wretched though it may be, because at least I knew he wouldn’t carry things too far. He might make me strip and beg, or take a blade to his heart, but he’d never take true advantage or cause me to hurt anyone else.

NO!!!! Not okay!!!

We stayed there, holding each other, until the little windup clock dinged. Even then I didn’t let go right away. This demon, this living embodiment of sin, was so much more than the monster he was supposed to be.

“Of course. There is nothing more dangerous than a woman who owns who she is and apologizes to no one.” I gave him a slow once-over. “I believe I am powerful, therefore I am. Isn’t that the principle you live by? Well, I know I’m powerful. I know power comes from many sources and I now have many weapons in my arsenal, your highness. In fact, I can own you right now if I chose to. And you would be powerless for a change.”

“Breathe. No one will touch you while we’re here, Emilia. It would be an act of war and we’re all gathered with the understanding of temporary peace. You belong to House Wrath. If they forget, I will take pleasure in reminding them.”

“She’s a journalist from the Shifting Isles. And she rarely has anything flattering to say about the royals in this realm. She’s been particularly vicious with Gluttony.”

A journalist?! IN HELL?! I AM SO CONFUSED.

Bravery might be the absence of fear in most cases, but it also seemed a little like acting foolishly for a good cause. I was not worried about being brave. I was interested in watching out for myself, making the best decision I could. If the mystery woman did indeed know me better than I did, then the best choice was to agree. Consequences be as damned as my soul.

“But Lucifer… Pride… I don’t understand.” He heaved a great sigh. “My brother’s sin of choice makes it nearly impossible for him to deny being the king of demons. Mortals assume that’s who he is, and his pride keeps him from admitting the truth. He’s only too pleased to feed his ego. I harbor no emotions one way or the other about my true title. It is a duty to me. An obligation thrust upon me. Nothing more. If anything, with Pride soaking up the prestige, it allows me to complete my job without posturing.”