Chapter Eight
As they headed toward the plaza, Anabel sighed at Xavier. “Are you going to wear that stupid grin all evening?”
The aforementioned grin didn’t shrink in the slightest as he said, “Why wouldn’t I? It’s been a relaxing, beautiful day from start to, well, now.”
“And you’re enjoying that Stewart just snubbed you again,”
guessed Wynter. It had been a few days since she’d had to sic her monster on the Oasis Coven, but the Beta lycan still appeared to be in a funk over how he’d found himself holding Missy’s head, which delighted Xavier to no end.
He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “What can I say? I’m all about payback. The bitchier it is, the better. Who would’ve thought a lycan would freak out so much over such a small thing? It’s not as if they ain’t used to blood and violence. God, it was so cool when he retched.”
“Small thing?”
Snorting, Anabel cast Xavier a sideways glance. “I think most people would be weirded out if they realized they’d just caught the head of a corpse—especially the head of someone they know. It was pretty mean of you to toss it at him, if you ask me.”
“He was mean first,”
Xavier pointed out. “I was merely acting as a conduit for karma. Del does it all the time. There’s something very satisfying about it.”
Smiling, Delilah nodded. “Right?”
“Right. It made me feel all warm inside.”
Delilah gently nudged him. “You should do it more often. Make it a new habit. Let it replace the whole chronic lying thing. Reinvent yourself.”
His brow creased. “But I like the ‘me’ I am now.”
“Dear God, why?”
“Hey.”
Xavier slapped a hand over his chest. “That hurt, you know.”
“And now you’re lying again.”
“It brings me joy and comfort. Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“Fuck, no. You make me crazy.”
Feeling her lips twitch, Wynter shook her head. As the two went on to squabble, she once more scanned her surroundings. A week had gone by since Adam called for her and Cain to surrender themselves to him. There had been no other attempts to snatch her, but she wasn’t relaxing her guard. Nor were her coven, which was why they had all insisted on coming along for the shopping trip to grab essentials and work supplies.
There was no countdown-to-Halloween celebration tonight—that would come tomorrow. But there were still plenty of people out and about on the surface of Devil’s Cradle. Honestly, it seemed to never sleep.
Residents still often glanced her way, just as they were doing now. But the looks they cast her tended to be quite different from before the street party incident. Some were assessing. Some were respectful. Some were fearful.
Some were even awed.
Well, it was no small thing to be Favored by a deity. And if Kali made you different from other revenants, it said something. People were probably questioning whether it meant something good or something bad.
It was a question that she knew haunted Cain.
Unfortunately, he and the other Ancients hadn’t yet managed to wake Abaddon. They had tried every evening without fail. Cain didn’t believe that the sleeping Ancient had so much as stirred, but he couldn’t tell for sure.
A growl came from Anabel as she glanced from Xavier to Delilah. “Will you two stop bickering. I swear, you’re like children sometimes.”
Hattie put her fingers to her lips. “My, my, my, would you look at that derriere?”
Wynter tracked her gaze and noticed a well-built male bending over to grab bales of hay, stacking them on top of one other. “You really need to stop ogling asses.”
“It can’t be helped,”
said Hattie.
Delilah made a humming sound. “I’ll admit, that is a fabulous behind.”
She let out a sigh of longing. “I wouldn’t mind a good ole roll in the hay.”
Hattie pulled a face. “It’s not as fun as it sounds. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Wynter felt her brows inch up. “You and George did some hot yoga in the field?”
“Stables,”
corrected Hattie. “And it wasn’t George. It was my first husband.”
“The one who was hung like a bull?”
asked Anabel.
Hattie gave a curt nod. “He wasn’t very skillful in bed. Relied on his size to do all the pleasing. He would just pound away and traumatize your cervix. If you wanted him to find your clitoris, you needed to draw the oaf a map. It was such a shame that he died,”
she added sadly . . . as if he’d lost his life in a freak, tragic accident.
Delilah fired her an incredulous look. “You find it a shame? Really?”
Hattie shrugged one shoulder. “I did miss him when he was gone.”
“Enough that you wished you hadn’t killed him?”
asked Delilah.
“Not quite that much.”
Delilah set one hand on her hip. “Okay, here’s what I don’t get. You say you’re sorry you ended the lives of your husbands. Yet, you don’t wish that you hadn’t done it. How can you be sorry and not regretful?”
“I’m sorry that they put me in a position where I was forced to kill them,”
Hattie clarified.
“Forced? They forced you?”
“What else was I supposed to do after they betrayed me and broke their vows?”
“Spit on them? Leave them? Kick them in the balls?”
Hattie shot Delilah a snooty look. “Ladies do not spit, though I would not expect you to know that. I couldn’t have left them without also divorcing them, and we’ve already covered that I don’t believe in divorce. And I would never kick a man’s testicles—that can cause real damage, you know.”
“More damage than a deadly poison?”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
Halting outside the grocery store, Wynter raised her hands. “Let it go for now, okay? Go inside and grab whatever stuff you need.”
“Don’t forget we need to head to the bookstore after this,”
Hattie piped up.
“It’s not exactly a ‘need’,”
began Delilah, “but don’t worry, old woman, you’ll get there.”
Hattie’s brow furrowed. “Books are a necessity. I can’t believe you’d imply differently. Or that I ever trusted you.”
Delilah snorted. “Works of fiction are a form of entertainment, nothing more.”
“Your negativity is not appreciated.”
“I’m not being negative, I’m being real.”
“You’re being a tight-assed bit—”
“Enough.”
Wynter nudged a grinning Delilah. “Stop winding up old ladies and go shop. Hattie, ease up on the insults, would you?”
“For you, Wynter,”
agreed Hattie, ever so benevolent.
Honest to Christ, they were a handful.
The five of them headed into the store and each grabbed a basket. They usually split up to go nab what they needed. But today the coven insisted that Wynter wasn’t to be left alone. They were still pissed that they hadn’t noticed she’d been snatched by Missy, Kyra, and Vera until it was almost too late.
As a group, they went from aisle to aisle, chucking items into their baskets. Xavier didn’t need much, so he quickly got bored and started throwing unnecessary stuff into Delilah’s basket. That led to yet another argument between the two. An argument that continued even as they bagged up their purchases and then walked out the exit. And that, in turn, led to Anabel once again ordering them to “quit it already”. It was as the annoyed blonde marched off in a strop that she almost crashed into Shelia, one of Ishtar’s aides.
The female vampire sneered. “Watch where you’re going.”
“I am watching, I’m not impressed with what I see,”
snarked Anabel.
Shelia blinked in surprise. The three female vamps behind her looked equally stunned. Yeah, people didn’t always sense that Anabel wasn’t quite as innocent or harmless as she looked. Wynter got the feeling that the witch liked that.
“Oh, is that so? Well, that makes two of us.”
Shelia skimmed her gaze over the rest of the coven. “Nope, nothing impressive to see here.”
The other vampires shifted nervously.
Sidling up to Anabel, Wynter gave Shelia a sweet smile. “Well, you could continue to watch us not give a crumb of a fuck what you think about literally anything . . . or you could walk away. Totally up to you.”
Shelia scoffed. “You think you’re special just because you get to ride Cain’s cock. Sorry to point out what should be obvious to you, sweetie, but you’re not the first. Plenty of women had him before you, and plenty will have him after he dumps your ass. Which he will. It’s merely a matter of time. And when that day comes, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”
“And my give-a-shit-o-meter still ain’t moving.”
Wynter gave her a “what can you do?”
shrug. “Lovely chatting with you.” She went to pass the vampires, but Shelia stupidly slipped in front of her.
The vampire snarled. “You think I’m afraid of you?”
Wynter took a step forward, pleased when the little bitch tensed. “What I think is that you believe being Ishtar’s aide protects you. Maybe it does usually. But it won’t protect you from me. You don’t believe that? Well, consider that it didn’t protect Azazel’s aide. You never wondered where Bowen went?”
Shelia’s eyes flickered.
One of the other vamps rested a hand on Shelia’s shoulder, avoiding Wynter’s gaze. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Yes, do go.”
Wynter skirted around Shelia, whose hand shot out and gripped her arm. Wynter didn’t hesitate to act. She struck with magick, lashing it like a whip.
Stumbling aside, Shelia stared at her decaying hand in horror. It burned, charred, and flaked away. She screamed and screamed and screamed . . . and then she stopped as her hand “returned”
to normal, only then realizing it had been a mere illusion.
“I can make it happen for real, if you’d like,”
Wynter offered.
Shelia swallowed, looking dazed. She didn’t protest as her friends led her away.
Anabel looked at Wynter as they and the rest of the coven resumed walking. “Do you think Ishtar encourages all her hirelings to hate you?”
“Probably,”
Wynter replied. “I can understand why those who are excessively loyal to her would loathe me so much. Maxim would be pissed at anyone who gave Cain problems.”
“Hmm, I guess so,”
said Anabel. “I still don’t like it.”
“Me neither,”
Delilah fairly growled. “I’m in the mood to cut a bitch up right now.”
“That’ll have to wait until we’ve been to the bookstore,”
Hattie declared. “I’m not missing—”
She jumped as thunder cracked the air.
Wynter looked up to see thick gray clouds gathering in the sky. More, a face flashed to life within it. Adam’s face.
“Oh, shit,”
said Delilah.
“You were given time to bring me what I want,”
Adam began, his voice loud but crackling, “just as Cain and Wynter Dellavale were given time to hand themselves over. You were warned what would happen if my terms were not met. Now you will know what that meant.”
A godawful howl of wind came whistling over the town, and the temperature dropped in an instant. No, it didn’t merely drop. It took a fucking nosedive.
Her ears popped as the air pressure changed, and then Wynter spat a curse as the wind went insane. There was no real turning away from the onslaught, because it wasn’t going in any one direction. It seemed to come from every angle.
Autumn leaves, grass, and debris were swirling around the air, swept up in the gale. Trees swayed with audible creaks. Awnings flapped like crazy. Garbage cans rattled.
Wynter’s hair whipped at her face and partially obscured her vision. Her clothes fluttered against her body, the bags she carried swinging and bashing her legs.
The wind quickly went from sharp to buffeting. It bit at her skin, icy cold and hard as a stinging slap. Her eyes watered, and each puff of breath she let out fogged the air. Air that suddenly smelled of ozone and was so crisp it hurt to breathe it in.
Delilah staggered into a lamppost, bumping her hip hard. “The hell?”
Wynter stumbled against the gust of air rushing over the town, squinting at her coven. “The liquor store!”
she yelled, her voice somewhat muffled by the horrendous noise of the wind. “Get inside!”
Ducking their heads, they pushed against the force of the wind as they tried heading to the nearest building. Which was the exact moment when a flurry of snowflakes came tumbling from the sky and all but battered them.
Wynter almost let out a shocked squeal. The wind whipped the snow everywhere, so it pelted her from all sides. She swore as some flakes found their way down the back of her collar.
The garbage can in front of them fell over with a clang—
And rolled toward Hattie at top speed.
It crashed into her legs, taking them out from under her.
Shit. Straining against the force of the wind, Wynter and Xavier forged forward until they reached her. He kicked the can aside and then helped Wynter lift Hattie off the ground. It was hard to tell while she was squinting against the force of the wind, but the woman looked okay, just furious.
“The liquor store!”
Wynter repeated.
Her equilibrium a thing of the past, she pushed forward against the wind again, her clothes flapping, her hair whipping everywhere. The howling gale carried the sounds of glass breaking, voices crying out, branches snapping, and objects scraping concrete as they rolled down the street.
She hissed as some swirling debris scratched her eye just as the snow became heavier and sharp and . . . no, it wasn’t snow anymore.
Hailstones.
They powered down and pummeled everything—pinging off the ground, leaving little cracks in windows, denting metal cans, bouncing off brick walls, assaulting her body like darts. Glass shattered as a hailstone the size of a freaking golf ball crashed through a store window. Oh, hell.
She and her coven tried to run, but the wind was too powerful. Her free hand clinging tight to the handles of her bag, she threw her free arm over her head to shield it from the icy pellets. They kept tumbling down, battering and scraping and stabbing her skin.
The wind abruptly began lashing out like swiping hands. It barreled into a tree, knocking it down with an ominous crack. A gust then slammed into a fleeing male, sweeping him off his feet and sending him skidding backwards on his stomach. The wind then lifted the fallen tree and batted it through the air, causing it to crash through a store window.
Jesus Christ this was crazy.
A ball-sized hailstone smacked down hard on her shoulder, making her hiss through her teeth.
Almost there. They were almost at the store.
A branch tore off a nearby tree and came sailing toward Wynter. She leaned to the side, but it clawed at her temple as it passed. She hissed at the sharp sting, feeling warm liquid pool to the surface.
Fuck this shit.
It was as they finally neared the store that a fey staggered toward the door and—
Tiles tumbled off its roof, slammed down on his head, and crashed to the sidewalk. His body hit the ground hard. Dead? Unconscious? She didn’t know yet.
Xavier yanked open the shop’s door as they reached it. “Inside!”
he shouted, barely audible over the whistles and moans of the wind.
Wynter hurried the others into the store and then helped Xavier drag the fey inside. As Xavier slammed the door shut, she put shaking fingers to the fey’s throat to feel for a pulse, but they were too numb to sense anything.
The shopkeeper hurried toward them. “He’s alive, I can hear his heartbeat. What’s going on out there?”
Wynter shoved her tangled hair away from her face and dropped her bags on the floor. “Adam,”
she replied simply, her cold lips trembling.
The woman’s eyes widened. “He’s here?”
“I doubt it, or he wouldn’t have bothered doing one of his little cloud broadcasts, he would have shouted at us from wherever he stood.”
Wynter frantically brushed at the flakes of snow and hailstones that peppered her skin, hair, and clothes. It didn’t help much. Plenty had already melted into her hoodie and jeans, leaving them damp and icy.
Blowing out a breath, she took stock of herself and her coven. They were all covered in scrapes, cuts, and welts. At least they’d heal pretty fast.
Anabel, her hands jammed under her armpits, shivered as she said, “He most likely sent other Aeons to do his dirty work.”
Wynter gave a jerky nod. “They’ll be somewhere just beyond the boundaries.”
And with any luck, the scouts had spotted them and already alerted the Ancients.
Shuddering, Xavier adjusted his collar and dropped his chin down to his chest. “I know Adam said he’d punish the town but, great mother of fuck, I was not expecting a blizzard.”
Wynter pulled her limbs tight to her body. “Me neither.”
She rubbed her hands together, enjoying the brief flashes of warmth that came from the friction.
Delilah exhaled heavily over her cupped hands and then tugged down her sleeves to cover them. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
Her arms wrapped around her body, Hattie stamped her feet. “My toes are like ice.”
Flexing her own toes inside her shoes, Wynter slung an arm around the old woman’s shoulders. “At the very least, one of the Ancients will intervene soon.”
The entire coven stood close, sharing body heat, as they turned toward the window and stared at the scene playing out outside. The wind continued to howl and drone. The force of it made the door rattle. Pebble-sized hailstones pattered the building and drummed at the windows.
She was glad that the vehicles were kept inside the warehouse, or she had the feeling that they would be flipping over and skidding along the pavement.
No one moved. No one spoke. They could only stand and watch the storm reign, a little shaken by the show of power that—
A shimmering blast clashed hard into the wind. Rolled around it. Engulfed it somehow. And, soon enough, the gust calmed as the hailstones became locusts.
Cain.
The swarm of insects gathered in a tornado-like swirl that grew and grew and grew . . . only to then zoom away and disappear over the mountains.
Wynter blew out a relieved breath. The howling wind and hailstones were gone. It was over. Thank God. If the storm had gone on much longer, it might have damaged the utility structures and possibly knocked out the town’s power.
“Come on,”
Wynter said to her coven before pulling open the door. She stepped outside, snow crunching beneath her shoes, and looked around. God, it was like a blanket of white covered the town, weighing down trees, layering rooftops, and carpeting the roads and sidewalks. People would need to dig out some salt and shovels for sure.
She had the fleeting thought that this same damage would have been done during the battles if the Ancients weren’t so tip-fucking-top at countering the Aeons’ strikes.
Now that the temperature was no longer so bitterly low, the snow and pellets would likely thaw fast. But a slight chill still lingered in the air courtesy of the white coating that fell over the town.
The clouds had cleared, and the moonlight danced over the snow. She might have found it pretty if she wasn’t so pissed right now. She was no longer freezing, but she was wet and cold and wanted to peel off Adam’s flesh like an orange. While he was alive. And howling in agony.
Wynter turned toward the manor, and there stood Cain on the roof with Seth and Dantalion. The other Ancients began to gather behind them, seemingly too late to be of any assistance.
Xavier scratched his temple. “That was a lot of elemental power. But Adam could have done way worse than that, right?”
Wynter nodded. “He must have sent other Aeons to issue this ‘punishment’ on his behalf.”
“What kind of damage should we expect him to do if he does ever come here personally?”
“We should expect him to destroy every last inch of Devil’s Cradle. My opinion? He’d stand for nothing less.”
*
Ishtar strolled along the roof, sweeping her gaze over the sight below. “A blizzard. Pfft. Far from creative.”
“The Aeons aren’t going for ‘creative’,”
said Cain. “They’re going for ‘destructive’.”
She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “There was no follow-up after you retaliated. The Aeons responsible must have let loose a little power and then fled.”
“One of our scouts caught sight of them before they struck.”
If any of the creatures here were able to take on Aeons, Cain would have ordered for them to take the bastards out or at least attempt to capture them. Instead, all he could ask of the scouts was that they report the Aeons’ arrival immediately.
“I will have some of my aides assess the level of damage,”
said Dantalion.
“I don’t see any sign of fatalities,”
said Lilith.
“No, nor I,”
added Inanna.
Ishtar fired a tight smile at Cain. “It appears that your witch and her coven are fine.”
Yes, Cain had noticed. He was relieved even as he was furious that she’d been subjected to the wrath of the blizzard in the first place.
Azazel grinned at Ishtar. “I’m sure that fills you with so much delight you almost can’t take it.”
She shot him a droll look.
“I doubt the Aeons are still close, but we should probably have the scouts confirm it before we step down from here,”
hedged Seth.
So that was what they did.
By the time they’d received their confirmation that the Aeons were gone, Wynter and her coven had disappeared into the manor and, Cain assumed, to the underground city. When he returned to his Keep, he was informed by one of his aides that she was “home”, and the simple word made a smile build inside him.
The moment he stepped inside his chamber, Cain heard the shower running. He padded into the attached bathroom, noting the damp clothes that were piled beside the stall. His consort stood inside it, but he couldn’t see much of her due to the steam.
He stripped off his own clothes—they weren’t quite as wet as hers, but they were still uncomfortably damp—and joined her in the shower.
She squealed when he cupped her hips from behind. “Christ, your hands are freezing.”
Chuckling, he pulled her back against him, which elicited another squeal from her.
“Let me go, asshole!”
He licked a line up her throat. “But this is far more fun.”
She bitched at him right up until his hands were warm, at which point she allowed him to soap her down . . . which quickly turned sexual, so it wasn’t long before he was fucking her against the tiled wall.
Her body trembling from the aftershocks, she slumped against him, breathing hard, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “For an old and decrepit dude, you have a whole lot of energy when it comes to sexytimes.”
Feeling his lips curve, he gave her earlobe a sharp nip. “I may be old, but I’m not decrepit.”
“I’m going with you when you storm Aeon. You know that, right?”
He tensed. Where in the fuck had that come from? And why in the hell would she ever think he’d allow it? “That’s not going to happen. And if you’re mentioning this now because you thought that I’ll be easier to convince while in post-sex throes, you were mistaken.”
She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. There was no anger there, only resolve—firm, calm, and all too familiar. “That wasn’t a request,”
she softly stated. “I know you worry about me. I worry about you just the same. But I won’t stay behind.”
Cain felt a muscle in his cheek flex. “More than anything, Adam wants you at Aeon. You’d give him that?”
She let out a prim little sniff. “He also wants you there. I don’t see you offering to stay behind. Besides, it’s not like I plan to hand myself over to him.”
She planted her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll make a good distraction, Cain. You know that. He’ll be caught between being desperate to eliminate you and desperate to catch me alive. He won’t order any of his people to kill me, which means I’ll be way safer than you’ll be. And I’m no easy target. You remember that, right?”
He sighed, knowing she was right in all she’d said, hating to admit it even to himself. Still, he argued that she should stay behind as they dried off, returned to his chamber, and pulled on some clothes. She didn’t back down. Nor did she get mad or snippy. She remained calm as she repeatedly stated her case . . . and he knew that he wouldn’t convince her to change her mind. Fuck.
Wynter relented at times, even if only in the spirit of compromise so they could find a good balance in their relationship. But not when it came to something important to her. He respected that even though it drove him crazy on occasion.
Turning away from her, he stared unseeing at the wall tapestry. A ruthless voice floated to the forefront of his mind, whispering that he could force her hand. Well, yes, he could. He owned her soul, after all. But he’d never abuse that advantage he held. And there were times he genuinely lamented that there were moral lines he’d agreed—both with himself and with her—never to cross when it came to his consort.
“So you’re gonna sulk, huh?”
Affronted, he faced her once more. “I’m not sulking. I’m pissed. You had to know I wouldn’t want you to lay siege to Aeon alongside me.”
“Considering you asked me to sit out the other two battles, it seemed inevitable that you’d do the same this time. But it isn’t going to happen. And before you think about confining me somewhere, remember that Kali wouldn’t stand for you holding me anywhere against my will.”
“Perhaps She’d side with me on this.”
Cain narrowed his eyes as an otherworldly breeze fluttered over him, practically purring with an amused condescension. “Or not.”
He hadn’t sensed the deity’s presence until right then—She was very good at concealing Herself.
Wynter gave him a wan smile. “You could try convincing Her, but it’s super doubtful that She’ll go for it.”
“You don’t have to sound so smug about that.”
“Come on, Cain, I’m not some terrified maiden who’s inexperienced at battle. Be overprotective, be pissed, be sulky—”
“I’m not sulking.”
“—but accept that it won’t change anything. Admit, even if only to yourself, that I’d be an asset during the battle rather than a hindrance.”
“I don’t wish to be rational right now.”
Her lips twitched. “All right. We can put logic aside for the moment if you’d like. The situation will remain the same, though.”
She bit her lip and tilted her head. “Would it make you feel better about everything if I sucked you off?”
His dick reflexively jerked. “No.”
“You sure? You don’t want a blowjob?”
“No.”
A slow, confident smile curved her mouth. “Liar.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
He slowly advanced on her, drilling his gaze into hers. “I don’t want to fuck your mouth. I want to fuck your throat. I want to feel the muscles there contract around my cock. Want to see and hear you choke. Want to watch tears fill your eyes and trickle down your face. And then? Then I’d shove my dick somewhere it’s only been a few times before now, because if you’re going to be a pain in my ass, it’s only fair if I’m a pain in yours.”
Her pupils dilating, she licked her lips. “Bring it, old man.”
He pounced.