King of Wrath (Kings of Sin #1) by Ana Huang

The echo of her sarcasm faded into silence as we took the stairs to the second floor.

I pointed out the Parisian-style lounge, the billiards room, and the beauty room, but my attention was split between the tour and the woman beside me.

I’d walked the halls of Valhalla countless times, but every interaction with Vivian was like our first. I noticed something new about her every day—the tiny beauty mark above her upper lip, the way she slid her pendant along its chain when she was uncomfortable, and the mildly crooked slant of her smile when she was genuinely amused.

It was infuriating. I didn’t want to notice these things about her, yet I inadvertently hoarded them the way dragons hoarded jewels.

“Our last stop of the night.” I halted in front of a pair of huge wooden doors.

They opened without a sound, but Vivian’s sharp inhale was audible.

Every chapter of the Valhalla Club possessed a unique element that set it apart. Cape Town was known for its wraparound aquarium, Tokyo for its three-hundred-sixty-degree views from atop one of the city’s highest buildings. New York had its helipad and secret underground tunnel system.

But the library was the heart and soul of almost every branch. It was where deals were brokered, confidences shared, and alliances forged or broken.

Tonight, for once, it was empty.

“Wow.” Vivian’s reverent whisper drifted through the still air as we stepped inside.

I closed the doors behind us, cocooning us in hushed silence.

Thousands of books stretched up and across three walls toward the cathedral ceiling like a leather-bound forest complete with rolling ladders and wooden handrails. Five larger-than-life stained-glass windows stood sentry over assorted seating areas and desks lit with vintage brass and emerald lamps. The ceiling itself was carved with the house crests of the club’s founding families, including the distinctive twin Russo dragons.

“This place is incredible.” Vivian brushed her fingers over an antique globe.

A small smile touched my mouth.

Vivian grew up in a world of wealth and fancy galas similar to tonight’s. Most people in her position would rather eat glass than express visible awe over something as common as a nice library, but she was never afraid to show how much she enjoyed something, whether it was one of Greta’s home-cooked meals or a globe from the nineteenth century.

It was one of my favorite things about her, even though I shouldn’t have a favorite anything about her.

She was still the daughter of the enemy.

But in that moment, I found it hard to care.

“There’s an entire astronomy section on the second level.” I leaned my shoulder against the wall and tucked a hand in my pocket, watching her examine an oil painting of Venice. “Coincidentally, it’s right next to the mythology section.”

“Yes,” she murmured, sounding distracted. “Kai mentioned it.”

Annoyance flared, sudden and incomprehensible, in my chest. “Did he? What else did you talk about?”

“Not this again.” She dropped her hand from a bronze statuette of Athena and faced me, exasperation scrawled all over her features. “We talked about normal things. Work, the weather, the news. Why are you so hung up on our conversation?”

“I’m not hung up,” I said. “I’m simply curious as to what he said that was so funny. The last time I checked, neither work, the weather, nor the news is particularly hilarious.”

Vivian examined me for a moment before the soft glow of amusement filled her eyes. “Dante Russo, are you…jealous?”

A soft growl rumbled through my chest. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Maybe.” She tilted her head, her hair fanning over her shoulders in a cloud of raven silk. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were. Nothing is going on between me and Kai, but he’s quite handsome. And that accent. There’s something about a British accent that just does it for me. I blame it on…”

Vivian faltered when I pushed off the wall and walked toward her, my steps slow and methodical.

“My obsession with…”

She inched back, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced with equal parts trepidation and anticipation.

“Pride and Prejudice when I was younger,” she finished breathlessly.

Her back hit one of the bookshelves.

I stopped a hair’s breadth away from her, so close the beads of her dress grazed the front of my suit.

“Are you baiting me, mia cara?” A dangerous edge ran beneath the soft inquiry.

I hated the sound of Kai’s name on her tongue.

I hated the way she laughed so easily in his presence.

And I hated how much I cared about either of those things.

Vivian’s throat rippled with a swallow. “Simply making an observation.”

The library’s hushed silence buckled beneath the weight of the gathering tension. It hissed and sparked like crackles of electricity, barreling down my spine and lighting up my blood.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the movement gentle, almost tender before my hand skimmed down the side of her neck and curled around the back.

“You forget.” I pressed my fingers against her nape, forcing her to look up at me. “You’re my fiancée. Not Kai’s. Not anyone else’s. I don’t give a fuck how handsome they are or what type of accent they have. You’re mine, and no one…” I dipped my head, my lips brushing hers with each word. “Touches what’s mine.”