Page 81

Envy

If one more blade of grass stains his fucking pants, he’s going to cut a bitch. Reclining on his back, Envy grunts. Twigs, pebbles, and who the fuck knows what else dig into his back. The hard-packed earth is about as soft as asphalt, and streaks of soil have ruined his best combat outfit.

Forests. Bugs. Dirt.

Infernal nature. Other than bodies of water, he’s never been a fan.

And don’t get him wrong. He favors the term roughing it. Only not in this context.

Envy stretches both arms behind his head, using them as cushions. However, it’s no use. Despite being horizontal, which is technically his favorite position in life, this filthy woodland floor hardly measures up to a plush mattress and silk sheets with a high thread count.

Worse, no one’s here to admire his exquisite muscles on full display, much less to make use of them.

Aside from tacky wardrobes, Envy loathes nothing more than wasting a perfectly energetic night.

If he and the crew weren’t busy trespassing into deadly territory, this would be the ideal opportunity for rebellion-sex.

Not that it’s stopped the rest of crew from fucking in private corners. None of these couples are ever quiet.

To say the least, Envy’s feeling obscenely deprived by comparison.

After three days of hiking through forbidden terrain, evading enemy detection, wiping muck from his cashmere trousers, camping—he repeats, camping —among the elements, and tolerating the presence of a certain goddess, Envy has earned the right to partake in a string of orgasms.

Preferably with anyone who isn’t her . He made that mistake once already.

Well, okay. It was more than once. Matter of fact, he’s lost count of how many times they’ve hate-fucked.

Anyway, it’s over between them. The era of deities-with-benefits has come to an overdue close, and he’s not about to dwell on that lapse of judgment, nor on her proximity 6.65 yards away.

Growling, Envy flops to the left. Amid the moonlit cast of foliage, shadowed figures occupy several areas of the woods.

Love and Andrew rest beneath a tree, their arms entwined.

At the base of a small hill, Anger spoons Merry.

And in a grove, Wonder sprawls across Malice’s impressive chest, her face tucked in his throat and the demon’s hands cupping the goddess’s ass while in slumber.

Ugh. How maudlin.

Envy rolls his eyes. Since lying on his back had achieved nothing, he can either watch the sappy lovers cling to one another like glue, or he can flip the other way. In her direction.

Not. Fucking. Happening.

They couldn’t be more opposite if their blood were different temperatures. Besides, there’s another fatal reason to resist each other. One better left in the dark.

Unfortunately, destiny has shitty timing. As Envy welds his eyes shut, the aromas of black tea and smoke drift into his nostrils, with afternotes of violet trailing behind like bait.

Snarling, he pictures rainbows, unicorns, prayer circles, and polyester suits. Anything worthy of his disgust. Nonetheless, the fragrance intensifies.

For fuck’s sake. Envy twists, his gaze sneaking across the woods and landing on the vacant spot where she’d been sleeping.

What the devil? His eyebrows slam together as footfalls recede into the wild. The disturbance could belong to one goddess or a group of deities. Either his reluctant ally is venturing into the woods for an agenda she hasn’t shared, or the enemy has found her.

Swearing under his breath, Envy launches off the grass. Her discarded clothes lay in the grass, the black garments piled like a gothic costume. If any other god or goddess disrobed in his vicinity, he’d take it as an erotic invitation.

Except she’s not the coquettish type, and they’ve gone back to despising each other. Hence, getting dressed would be more logical when vacating the premises in secret.

Did she leave willingly to perform some moody form of witchcraft? For treasonous reasons the crew doesn’t know about?

Or did someone drug, strip, and steal her by force?

Red floods his vision. Swiping his archery off the ground, Envy stalks through the forest, pursuing the sounds of retreat.

Goddess of Sorrow. A proverbial thorn in his side. An immortal pain in the ass.

So help him. Provided she’s in one piece, Envy will make her pay for fucking up his world. This female is about to learn what true regret feels like.

“Prepare yourself, my nymph,” Envy hisses. “I’m done playing nice.”