Envy rubbed the backs of her arms, followed each down to her wrists and hands, tending to every area with care. His attention was sharp on her, cataloguing any freckle, any hint of magic at play. By the time he’d worked his way down to her lower back and run a hand over her tight little bottom, he hadn’t found a single indication that she was glamoured.

He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or even more skeptical.

Envy rubbed the oil into her legs, ending the massage with her feet, releasing any ache she might have felt from their long trek through the Sin Corridor.

She hadn’t complained once of the miles they’d traveled on foot.

He listened as she sighed contentedly, her body languid from his ministrations. Her desire, though—that had continued to build with each stroke.

It was time for him to up the stakes.

His hands lightly trailed along the backs of her calves before he flattened them against her thighs, rubbing larger circles across her uninked skin. He fought the urge to lean over, bite the plump flesh of her bottom before soothing away the sting with a kiss.

Still, the air around them felt thick, tense. Her breathing had all but stopped as she waited to see what he’d do, where he’d touch next.

Envy took his time, plotting, dreaming of all the divinely sinful ways he’d make her call out his name. Slowly, he drizzled oil into the palm of his hand, allowing it to warm slightly before sliding it down to his fingers.

He began rubbing it over her bottom, again and again, on each circle his hand dipping deeper between her legs, beginning to stroke that lovely place he wanted to bury himself inside.

“Well,” he purred softly as her hips lifted to meet his touch. “Looks like I was correct. You want it dirty too.”

She was drenched, her arousal almost as slick as the oil on his hand. He lazily traced the seam of her body, dipping the tip of his middle finger inside her. A harsh curse escaped her pretty lips, her face half hidden under her ethereal hair.

“You crave a demon, do you? One who fucks like a sinner because he is one.”

He withdrew his finger before she could push herself onto it, sliding it back across her body, spreading her wetness.

“I promise, sweet Camilla, you won’t be shouting for God when I’m buried inside you. I’ll be ruthless when I grace your sheets.”

His finger circled her clit, and he bit back his own groan. It was so swollen with desire she must ache. At the touch her hips bucked against his palm.

Envy finally slid one finger inside, giving her what she wanted. Camilla arched up and back, seeking more. His filthy little deviant wanted him to fill her. He plunged a second finger in, her soft moan making his cock rock-hard. She was so wet, so hungry for more.

Camilla propped herself on her forearms, her book long forgotten as she glanced back at him, watching as he continued to pleasure her.

“You’ll be shouting my name, Camilla. I will be your God, your Creator, your Destroyer, and every depraved dark thing in between. And I promise you’ll find religion on my cock. You’ll get on your knees for it, pray for it, worship it with every fiber of your being.”

He withdrew his fingers, then gave her clit a tiny little pinch, adding a twinge of pain to enhance her pleasure. Camilla moaned, the sound pure bliss. He thrust his fingers back inside her, pumping them, his own breath ragged as she quietly demanded he keep doing that to her.

“You won’t think of Prince Charming again. I promise you that.”

Envy lightly slapped her slick flesh, her body jerking toward him.

Camilla cursed softly, arousal glistening down her leg.

Envy played gently with her clit, one flick, another, before plunging his fingers deep inside her again. She began grinding against his hand.

The way her body responded to him was fucking glorious. He could watch her seek pleasure from him all night.

She clenched around him, slowly riding his fingers.

His free hand drifted down to his erection, stroking it gently over his trousers as he watched her. It would be easy to give in and give them both what they craved. He could pull her hips up until she was on all fours, bend her over the arm of the chaise, spread her wide, and end their mutual torment. But the lure of this particular game was even more potent than any fleeting physical satisfaction.

Camilla’s breath caught as she rolled her hips, seeking friction. He stroked himself harder, his balls tightening as his own pleasure increased. He imagined how good it would feel to slide his throbbing cock across her slickness.

But tonight wasn’t that night. Tonight was about her alone. He stopped touching himself and focused on her again. She was getting close.

He pumped a few more times, drawing out the sensation, listening as her breath turned ragged, then withdrew his fingers.

Camilla must have sensed the shift; she glanced back at him, back still arched, searching.

“You stopped.”

She didn’t ask why. But her frustration was written plainly across her face, as was her lust. Instantly, Camilla knew… He’d won this round.

Envy flashed her a grin, then bent forward and nipped playfully at her fleshy bottom, his tongue soothing over the mark, indulging his earlier fantasy.

He stood, straightened, and handed her the bottle of massage oil.

“Use this when you touch yourself later. It’ll be almost as good as when I make you come again.”

“What?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

He gave her a slow, wicked smile. “Sweet dreams, my filthy little darling.”

Envy returned to his bedroom and shut the door, chuckling softly as she called him every cursed name in the book.

“THAT IS ABSOLUTELY not a clue,” Lo said for the fourth time. “Put it down.”

Camilla closed her eyes, praying for some sort of divine interference. After she’d slept for only a few short hours, more frustrated than ever after Envy’s win last night, they’d all had breakfast, then immediately began their day of hunting.

By now, they’d been searching for the next clue for ages and the demon princes were driving her well past the point of madness. She was feeling downright murderous.

Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that she’d done exactly as the antithesis of Prince Charming had suggested, unable to sleep without finding release after he’d driven her wild once again. That he’d somehow outmaneuvered her at her own game ought to be criminal. Next time, she’d have to plot her victory better. Clearly, he’d been repaying her for the Sin Corridor.

Game on, demon.

This morning they’d all been methodically searching through one chamber after the next, deciding that the three of them, plus two research assistants, would complete a more thorough search if they worked together, room by room, shelf by shelf, using Lo’s meticulous records to compare what was in the room with anything that might have been added.

Which sounded fine in theory until one factored in the princes’ inability to work with each other without fighting. Every. Cursed. Minute.

Camilla scanned the room, her attention pausing on an artifact that looked like a dark moon. Glass, smoky and opaque. A few shelves over, an enormous nautilus shell was displayed, measuring at least two feet in length, larger than any she knew of in the mortal world.

“Give it to me now,” Lo said to Envy.

Using gloves, Lo gingerly plucked the illustrated manuscript out of Envy’s hands, setting it back under a glass encasement.

“You’re certain it’s not a clue?” Envy asked. “I don’t see it listed.”

“This book has been part of this collection for three hundred years. In a House with this many artifacts and tomes, it’s unfortunate that one was missed in the ledger, but not unheard of. Put it back down.”