Page 28 of A Sin So Pure

Imogen is quite pretty tonight—like she always is—but the purple jewel-tone dress she wears compliments her golden hair perfectly.

I’ll make it up to her tonight.

Orgasms fix everything.

Greed saunters in, clearing his throat as he steps through the door, demanding all our attention. And at last, we are seven.

I glance at the clock on the wall: eight minutes past six.

He’s late.Again.

“Don’t tell me I missed all the fun?” Greed quips, the lilt of his posh accent turning the words up at their ends.

Greed is the only Royal among the House leaders. While technically related to Silas, his family is too far removed to be considered a contender for the monarchy. However, that doesn’t stop him from carrying the self-importance of a king.

“We were only getting started,” Gluttony says, still recovering from her laugh. “You missed Envy making an ass of himself. Again.”

“So, nothing new,” Greed says. The candlelight shows off the warm tones in his brown skin and highlights the sparks of gold in his eyes.

Greed’s body freezes when he sinks into his chair, a reaction to the chill that cuts through the air.

The Unseelie King has a habit of making you feel him before you see him. He’s a cold front sweeping across the land. Shadows collect in front of the double doors, a mass of writhing snakes from which Silas’s form materializes.

My eyes widen a fraction at the bright white wings that extend behind him. They are only visible for a moment, but they are a stark contrast against the shadows. His wings bristle, shaking off a dusting of snow before dematerializing.

In a few sharp steps he is across the room, suit jacket unbuttoned by deft, pale fingers, and lounging in his seat.

Silas turns to Greed.

“You were late.”

I hold back a snort.

Greed’s eyes narrow at the same time he shoots Silas a blinding smile. He ruffles his curly black hair as he speaks, as if he’s trying to distract from the disdain shining in his eyes.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.”

Silas intertwines his fingers, leaning forward on his forearms with a vulpine grin. His eyes, twin night skies, trace over each of us with precision.

They meet mine last.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

The meeting flies by as it normally does—going, by seniority, through each House’s monthly status reports. Silas is mostly quiet as each Sin talks, only speaking when he needs to. And after listening to forty-two minutes of other Houses’ business, it’s my turn.

I clear my throat, pulling out the papers of my proposal.

“House Pride’s standard operations are running as usual,” I say. “However, there is one new proposal I would like to discuss today?—”

Silas raises a single hand, cutting off my speech with only a movement.

“I want to stop you right there, Pride,” he says. His mask of indifference has melted into one of cunning, like a cat who’s caught a canary. “A little bird brought to my attention a concerning fact about your recent imports from the Human Realm.”

My stomach drops as Silas reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out one of our Seelie tonics. He places it down, the glass refracting the candlelight into a spatter of rainbows across the room.

How did he get that?

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