Page 14 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

13

EAVESDROPPING

Genevieve woke in the drawing room to the buzz of a muffled discussion and something warm weighing on her chest. The fog in her mind was still thick, and it took several attempts before she was able to pry her eyes open and see?—

—a wide, golden gaze staring right at her.

Genevieve squeaked as she heaved herself up, causing Umbra to scramble down from where she had been curled up on top of her chest. She brushed a hand down the silk corset of her now-creased gown and wrinkled her nose at the fox grooming itself at her feet.

“This house is truly run by animals,” Genevieve muttered as she stood up from the tufted settee, an imprint of her body left in its velvet upholstery. The muted voices she had heard before were coming from the other side of the wall, and her curiosity was instantly piqued. Shuffling forward, she pressed an ear up to the damask wallpaper, seeing whether she could make out any of the words. Nothing.

Hauling the skirts of her wedding gown out of her way, she made for the door. Cracking it just wide enough to peek out into the hallway, she found that the corridor was empty, but the voices were instantly clearer. Umbra wiggled out of the sliver of space she’d opened and took off to the right. Genevieve followed, watching as the fox dashed through the open archway of the dining room and disappeared from sight. As a loud clatter echoed from the room, Genevieve slowed her steps and pressed herself flat against the hallway’s wall, leaning forward just enough around the archway’s frame to observe the scene without being noticed.

“Must you throw such a tantrum, Grave?” Ellin complained from where she sat at the end of the long dining table next to Wells.

“Look on the bright side—she’s a brand-new person you might get to stab. You always enjoy that,” Sevin pointed out from the head of the table, pulling yet another sucker from his mouth in exchange for a bite of a green apple. He was leaning dangerously far back on the hind legs of his chair, and Genevieve wondered how it was possible that he hadn’t already crashed to the ground.

“The real question is whether Rowin would ever forgive any of us for killing her,” Wells pointed out.

“Does it matter? It’s not like he speaks to us outside of the Hunt anyway,” Remi murmured from where he was standing behind Sevin.

“Don’t fucking start,” a familiar voice warned, making Genevieve’s eyes snap across the room.

When her gaze landed on Rowin’s face, she found the same stoic mask he usually wore. His amber eyes shrewd but filled with apathy. His mouth set in an irritated frown. The same mouth that had been on hers just earlier…

Her blood began to heat at the memory of their kiss. Her breath hitching in shock at having such a visceral reaction despite the fact that it had been nothing more than a very elaborate display of Rowin’s dedication to their performance.

It was not even the most passionate kiss I’ve ever experienced , she admonished herself as she shoved the memory of it to the very darkest corner of her mind. He’s just a man.

But that wasn’t really true anymore, was it?

He was her husband .

The heat in her blood shifted from desire to something less desirable as she focused her attention back on the scene before her. As Genevieve glanced at each of the siblings, she noted that she’d never before seen the work of such strong genetics. She was sure she would have known that every person in this room was related to each other even if she’d met them separately, outside of Enchantra.

“And why shouldn’t I start?” Remi asked Rowin, his expression mirroring his twin’s perfectly. “Knox is in Hell, working out how to announce your faux marriage. I think this is the perfect time to start.”

“Fine.” Rowin crossed his arms over his chest, as he leaned back against the far wall. “My correspondence between games?—”

“Or lack thereof,” Ellin muttered to Sevin and Wells.

“—is not relevant to the matter at hand,” Rowin continued, his words even but dripping with warning. “Whether you all decide to focus your attentions solely on killing Genevieve or not, the fact of the matter is you aren’t just punishing me if she dies—you’re punishing yourselves. She’s a convenient tool. Nothing more, nothing less. If I can get free, you all stand to gain.”

“When you find a cure?” Grave growled at his brother. “ Enough with the cure. It isn’t fucking real. The Crimson Rot has been infecting powerful Demons for centuries. Their families were just as desperate as us. And what did they find? Nothing. We continue to play the Hunt or our mother dies . End of discussion. So I hope your new ball and chain knows how to fight.”

Even from her far-off vantage point, Genevieve could tell that Rowin’s jaw was clenched tight. And for some reason the fact that he wasn’t going to bother with a rebuttal infuriated Genevieve more than Grave referring to her as a ball and chain .

“Look, we all know how this is going to go,” a raspy voice declared from the corner to Rowin’s right, and Genevieve nearly let out a startled gasp as she spotted the man amongst the shadows. He had cropped black hair and crimson irises that, despite their eerie color, barely drew her attention. No, it was the giant ebony serpent spooling itself around his leg and torso that made her pause.

The man I spied slicing himself open with the dagger?

Which would mean this was the first time she’d seen all seven of the Silver siblings in one place. Because the discussion of her fate was now a family affair. She was also surprised to find that she only just realized the entirety of their discussion had been in their first language and that Barrington had been right—she’d hardly noticed the switch.

“How is it going to go, Covin?” Rowin addressed his brother’s statement with a dark look in his eyes.

“You’re either going to collect another win and we won’t ever see you again, or your winning streak will come to an end, and you’ll finally get a taste of Hell with the rest of our sorry asses. Either way, tomorrow’s masquerade is our last chance to be civil with one another, so I say we put the bickering on hold and go out with a bang at the party,” Covin stated, and while he spoke, Genevieve saw that his slithering pet wasn’t the only one with a forked tongue.

She shuddered.

“Is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Rowin lifted a brow. “Partying?”

“That’s what I’m thinking about,” Sevin chimed in.

Covin shrugged. “What else is there to enjoy in our circumstances? Between losing to you and Grave all these decades, and Sevin winning Favored nine times out of ten, I’ve grown quite fond of Hell and Knox’s parties.”

“You’ve grown fond of sharing Demons’ beds,” Ellin suggested with a roll of her eyes.

Covin shrugged again. “That too.”

“If it makes you all feel better, Rowin’s little romantic charade is almost certainly going to steal Favored from me,” Sevin offered in condolence. “Which is a shame, because there’s this nifty little pocket watch I’ve had my eye on in Knox’s collection for a while. It’s supposed to be able to tell whoever holds it how much time they have left until they?—”

“Would you all shut the fuck up,” Grave seethed. Sevin chucked his apple at Grave’s head for interrupting him. Grave caught the half-eaten fruit one-handed and tossed it to the ground before turning to address Rowin directly. “You and your bride can sleep in peace tonight, but the moment the Hunt begins, you will not be getting any mercy from me. So I suggest you take Covin’s advice and thoroughly enjoy the masquerade.”

Rowin advanced a step toward his brother, a dangerous smile playing on the edges of his lips. “And I won’t be showing you any mercy if you lay a finger on my wife.”

A shiver went down Genevieve’s spine.

Rowin stepped around Grave and began heading for the exit, making Genevieve duck out of view as quickly as she could before he caught her eavesdropping. By the time he reached the hall, Genevieve had barely managed to wedge herself back into the drawing room, heart still pounding like she’d been caught.

When Rowin burst through the door a few moments later, Genevieve knew two things. The first was that she was not built for quick getaways—she’d never needed to be before. And the second was that Rowin had known she’d been eavesdropping the entire time. A fact punctuated by the pointed look in his eyes as his gaze took in her flushed skin and the odd, constricted movements of her breaths against her boned bodice.

Before he could accuse her of anything, however, she asked, “Why did I faint?”

“My father suspects your system wasn’t able to handle Knox’s lockdown of your magic in combination with the magic that links our lives together for the Hunt,” he told her. “I felt awful, too, for a moment.”

“Why the Hell did Knox lock down my magic?”

“Not just yours,” Rowin assured. “Everyone’s. During the Hunt, our days will be broken up into two halves. The hunting hours and the safe hours. We are not allowed to access our magic during the hours between midnight and noon, since that is when the Hunt will take place. Starting now.”

“ Fuck ,” she cursed.

This was disastrous. In Phantasma she’d been able to walk right through all the levels without a single worry. Becoming invisible when the world around her became too intense had always been her saving grace and the only time she ever stayed out of trouble.

“Good, you’re grasping the scope of the situation, then,” Rowin approved. “I think it’s time to retire to our bedroom for the night.”

“What the fuck do you mean, our bedroom?” she demanded, voice rising.

He lunged forward to try to clap a hand over her mouth, but she batted him away with a withering look.

“Watch it,” she warned darkly. “I bite.”

His gaze narrowed. “Yes, I’m aware.” Still, he stepped closer. “I implore you to keep your voice down. Knox is in Hell with my father right now, but he’ll most likely be roaming the house later tonight while they go over the details of the masquerade. So whatever delicate sensibilities you have about sharing a room, you need to get over them now.”

She snorted. It was not her sensibilities that were delicate. It was the fact that she didn’t want him to be anywhere within hearing distance while she slept . Her nightmares tortured her enough; she didn’t need him to witness them as well.

She tilted her nose up at him. “No.”

His gold eyes darkened. “I wasn’t really asking. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder again. I don’t care how much you bite.”

The moment those words were out of his mouth, someone burst into the room. Two someones: Sevin and Covin.

Covin let out a low whistle. “Biting. Nice.”

Sevin tilted his head at Rowin. “And I thought choking was more your thing.”

Genevieve gave Rowin a taunting smirk. “Now that I’m game to try. I’ve wanted to strangle you since the first time I heard you speak.”

Rowin rolled his eyes as Sevin corrected, “I don’t think you’d be the one doing the choking, sweetheart.”

Genevieve felt the tops of her ears burn ever so slightly at the picture Sevin’s words conjured in her mind, but before any of them could notice, a dark flash went through the room.

“I’m surprised you two lovebirds are still up,” a rasping voice purred as a tall figure appeared between them all. “I thought surely there would be a headboard breaking somewhere right about now.”

Even if Genevieve hadn’t recognized the voice, the way Rowin stiffened at the sight of the newcomer would have told her exactly who this was.

Knox.

He was stunning. Most Devils were. But even by those standards he was exceptional. His face was all refined angles and sharp lines. His calculating violet eyes were framed by thick black brows and lashes, his obsidian hair longer than her own and hanging pin-straight down his back. Two curved horns jutted out from the crown of his head, and she immediately recognized them as his Devil’s Mark.

“Back so soon?” Rowin questioned the Devil. “I thought you’d be spreading our wedding announcement to the entire Third Circle for the rest of the night.”

Knox grinned. “I only came back to install a few more looking glasses for my eager patrons. Everyone is very excited about your nuptials.”

“Wonderful. If you’ll excuse us, Genevieve and I were just making our way to bed,” Rowin said, before turning to Genevieve and imploring, “Ready, trouble?”

He offered his hand to her while Knox watched expectantly.

Genevieve gave Rowin a dazzling smile as she accepted his waiting palm. “Absolutely.”

A spark of something flickered through Rowin’s eyes, but before Genevieve could name it, it was gone.

As he began to pull her away, she drawled, “You all have a good night.”

“Lovely to officially meet you, Miss Grimm,” Knox said in farewell.

Genevieve paused to look back at the Devil, meeting his violet gaze as she corrected, “It’s Mrs. Silver . And it’s with utter disdain that I am officially meeting you . Good night.”

With that, she marched Rowin out of the room.

As he began leading her toward the other end of the house, he said, “Not many mortals would be brave enough to talk to a Devil that way, you know.”

She began to pick at her nails. “Well, I figure he wants me alive more than he wants me dead in order to play his little game, right? So why should I hold my tongue?”

“I wouldn’t have even considered that was a thing you knew how to do,” Rowin murmured as they reached one of the bedroom doors in the portrait-lined wing of the villa. He pushed the door open and waved her inside ahead of him. “After you, Mrs. Silver .”