Chapter Ten
Wynter was closing her bedroom window at the cottage later that day when she heard footfalls coming from behind her. She turned to find Cain slowly stalking into the space, each step smooth and predatory. Her stomach predictably went all fluttery.
“Well, hello there.”
She smiled, surprised to see him. Busy as he was, he didn’t regularly turn up at the cottage. “What brings you here?”
He came straight to her and drew her close. “You,”
he said, dipping his head. “Always you.”
He took her mouth in a slow, lazy, deep kiss. It held an edge of dominance that made her hormones swoon. He broke the kiss with a satisfied hum. “Needed that.”
Wynter slid her hands up his hard chest. “Since you don’t look in the least bit triumphant, I’m guessing you again had no luck waking Abaddon.”
“You guessed correctly.”
He sighed. “If we had, it would have gone a long way to lifting not only my mood but that of the other Ancients.”
She felt her brows knit. “What’s wrong with your mood?”
“It soured a few hours ago when a conduit from Aeon arrived. Adam wanted to speak to all seven Ancients this time. He offered the others a deal—if they surrender both you and me to Adam when he arrives here, he will spare their lives and leave them in peace.”
Wynter felt her mouth drop open. “He’s trying to turn them against you, or make you worry that they will. That motherfucker. Do you think they’ll give him what he wants?”
“Absolutely not. There isn’t a chance that Adam would refrain from trying to lay waste to Devil’s Cradle. Not after what happened to Abel here. The other Ancients know that, just as they know that if they handed you and me over, all they will have done is made themselves more vulnerable to an attack.”
Maybe so, but Wynter wasn’t quite ready to trust that they wouldn’t betray Cain if it came to a point where they felt that there would be no waking Abaddon or escaping their prison. One of the Ancients had betrayed Cain’s trust once before without an issue. Speaking of that particular Ancient . . . “I’ll bet Ishtar suggested they could try to placate Adam by passing me over to him.”
“I thought she might do something along those lines, but she didn’t. She claimed she’s quite aware that giving Adam what he wants wouldn’t change the man’s intentions, and she seemingly has no wish to give our last jailor anything.”
That was a surprise. “Hmm.”
Even she heard the doubt in her tone. Wynter knew how much Ishtar hated her; knew that the female Ancient would happily see her gone.
“Yes, I’m just as skeptical. We’ll see how things go.”
Cain trailed his finger behind her ear and down the side of her throat. “I heard from one of my hirelings that you came across my mother and the twins at the market. I also heard that you and Rima appeared to get into some sort of argument—he wasn’t close enough to pick up any words that were spoken.”
“I wouldn’t say we argued. She was her usual snarky self, and I called her on it.”
Wynter briefly elaborated and then added, “Maybe she’ll take my advice.”
“I highly doubt it.”
“I can see that you’d like to give her a bucketload of shit for what she said—”
“If you’re going to ask me to let it lie, don’t bother. You’re my consort. She was rude to you. She knows better. I wouldn’t tolerate it from others, and I certainly won’t tolerate it from her.”
Cain nipped her lip, as if to punctuate his point.
“If you subjected her to a punishment, it wouldn’t wash down well with Noah and Eve. You can’t afford to alienate all three Aeons right now. You need them on side. My suggestion? Just give her a verbal warning like you initially did with Ishtar. If Rima repeats her actions, well, no one can then say she didn’t have it coming—not even her own twin. Come on, you know I’m right on this.”
Cain sighed. “I do. I just don’t like it.”
Wynter snorted. “I can see that.”
She drifted her fingers through his hair. “Now how about we drop annoying topics?”
“Works for me. I’d much rather discuss what items you’re taking to the Keep today.”
He glanced around the room. “One of the reasons I came to escort you there is it occurred to me that you might need help moving more of your things.”
She narrowed her eyes, very aware that he’d come here to ensure she transferred more of her belongings to his home. “Oh, how very thoughtful of you,”
she said, her voice dry.
His lips curved. “I’d say so.”
She hmphed. “I’ve already boxed up my crystals to take with me. I have no idea where I’ll put them, though. They won’t really fit in with the style of your chamber.”
Skating one hand up her back, he brushed his mouth over hers. “They fit with you. And you fit with me.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest. He might not be whatsoever romantic, but he could say the sweetest stuff—not to melt her, but because it was pure truth and he wanted to give it to her. She loved that.
His gaze slid to the side as something caught his attention. “What’s this?”
Tracking his gaze, she replied, “An ancestor altar. Most witches create one around this time of year to honor those they loved and lost.”
He crossed to the altar and studied it carefully, taking in each item.
Sidling up to him, she pointed at the newly framed drawings. “I don’t have any photos of any of the people I lost, so I drew some pictures. They’re not very good, but they’re better than nothing. This is my mom, Davina. That’s my grandmother, Agnes. And you met Rafe. He was like an uncle to me.”
The male witch had been sent by the Aeons to convince her to return, and the cruel bastards had later killed him when he went home without her.
Cain cut his gaze back to her. “Tell me about Davina and Agnes,”
he softly urged.
She blinked, surprised. “Why?”
His brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“I don’t mind talking about them. It’s just that, well, you rarely ask about my life before I came here unless it’s to discuss the Aeons.”
Turning to fully face her, he skimmed his hand up her arm. “Only because I know you don’t have many good memories of your time at Aeon, and I’m hesitant to raise any subjects that might cause you pain. But I hear the affection in your voice as you talk about these people, especially your mother and grandmother. You seem happy to speak of them at present, so I’m asking if you’ll tell me more. They were your family, they’re part of you. I want every part.”
His lips twitched at her snicker. “Yes, as you well know, I’m greedy when it comes to you.”
That was a two-way street, so Wynter didn’t mind. “My mom was sweet and brave and spunky. Davina had a contagious laugh. Loved to cook and garden. I swear, flowers seemed to lean toward her. Like she was some kind of magnet for nature.”
Wynter paused as her throat thickened, forcing her to clear it with a cough. “She taught me how to use and control my magick—which, before I died as a child, was light and comforting like hers.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She felt her mouth cant up. “Hard to imagine that, huh? Given all I’ve done with it as an adult, I mean.”
“It’s not simply that.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “The darkness and chaos suits you and your personality.”
“I said my magick was light and comforting back then, I didn’t say it wasn’t chaotic. My mom had a hard time helping me channel it, but she persevered. Davina was even more stubborn than I am. She had no quit in her . . . And it hurts like motherfucking hell that she pled guilty to bringing me back from the afterlife so that no one would know I was a revenant.
“She knew that the Aeons wouldn’t want a being in their midst who could destroy them; she knew they’d kill me so, unaware that Kali would send me back, she lied to protect me. And she paid for that with her life, though she hadn’t known that would be the price until it was too late.”
Wynter’s voice broke at the end.
Curling one arm tight around her, Cain stroked a hand over her hair. “You’re right, your mother was brave. And she very clearly loved you.”
“She did. She made it apparent in everything she did. My grandmother, Agnes? She was more about tough love. She was brisk and curt. She led the coven with an iron fist. But Agnes was always there for those who needed her. She had a big heart, it was simply encased in steel.”
“You miss them both,”
he sensed.
“I do.”
“Did Agnes know what you are?”
“I think she guessed. There were a few things she said that hinted at it. But she never outright asked me. Maybe because she knew I’d lie and she didn’t want to create a situation where she’d have to force a truth out of me that could very well condemn me.”
“And Rafe? Did he know?”
She shook her head. “He sensed that I was different, but I don’t believe he suspected that I was a revenant. I think he simply thought that death had warped my magick in strange ways.”
“As you have him to thank for all your training, I’m glad you had him in your life. Though I’ll admit I’m petty enough to not like hearing you speak of another man with such affection.”
“I’m petty enough that I would have had the same reaction if our situations were reversed, so I can’t judge.”
She licked her lips. “I didn’t care for him the way I do you. He was . . . an addition to my life. You’re central to mine.”
Cain’s chest squeezed. “As you are to mine.”
She probably had no idea what it did to him to hear her say such things. No one else had ever openly loved or claimed him the way she did. His mother and Seth cared for him, might even love him. But the relationships Cain had with them had always been complicated. With Wynter, it was the opposite.
Before her, he’d only existed on the periphery of the worlds of those in his life. Even surrounded by people, he’d always been alone. He hadn’t really lamented it; hadn’t craved more. Until Wynter.
Even at the beginning, it hadn’t been enough for him to sit on the sidelines and be a mere part of her life. He’d felt driven to infiltrate it. To make a place for himself in it.
Cain hadn’t only wanted for her to belong to him. That hadn’t been enough for him. He’d wanted to belong to her in turn. And now that he had what he’d so badly yearned all along, he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep it. To keep her.
Likewise, he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which his creature would ever let her go. It had claimed her as its own. That wasn’t something such an entity would ever do or take lightly.
Cain slipped his hand beneath the sleek curtain of her hair to palm her nape. “Have you given any thought to bonding with my monster?”
“I have. And, on a personal level, I have nothing against the idea.”
Satisfaction bloomed inside him and perked up his creature, who’d been in a foul mood since having to sit across from Adam.
“But it makes sense to wait until after the present danger has passed.”
Cain frowned, and his monster stilled. “How does that make sense?”
There was no logic at all in delaying it; no reason she’d reach such an idiotic conclusion. Unless . . . “Wait, are you trying to protect me?”
Surely not.
She straightened her shoulders. “Hey, I know you’re a big, bad Ancient—yippee for you. But you’re not invincible. The last thing you need right now, with all the shit going on around us, is for anything to weaken you.”
“I’ve already explained that the bond wouldn’t weaken me even if you died.”
“That’s providing I come back from death. But as you so often remind me, we can’t know for sure that Kali will always return me to this realm. If She didn’t—”
“I’d find some way to drag you back.”
“You’d try. But not even your hold on my soul could cheat death. At the moment, there’s all kinds of danger hovering around me. It’s not a good time for your creature to tie its life-force to mine. You can’t afford to be stuck in a deep state of Rest recovering from the effects of a broken preternatural bond. The other Ancients need you—”
“And I need you,”
he all but growled.
She gently squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just saying it’s best to wait a little while before I bind myself to your monster.”
It snarled in disagreement. “We don’t want to wait.”
“Shocker. Like it or not, I’m making a valid point here. And as it happens, we need to be certain of something before we go through with it.”
Cain unlocked his back teeth. “What?”
“A person’s life-force is the energy their soul gives off, right? My soul is undead, remember? I don’t know what kind of energy it gives off, but it might not be a good kind; it might be something that harms or weakens your creature. I could be wrong. It could be a senseless concern. But I need to know for sure before we proceed.”
“Your life-force has a dark energy, yes, but nothing that would harm my creature.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“Yes.”
“Ooh, that was a definite lie. No, don’t argue. I am in the company of a pathological liar every day. I know a bullshit line when I hear one.”
Cain let out a heavy exhale. “Fine. I’m not entirely certain. But I don’t believe your worry is warranted.”
“I’d rather wait until we know without a doubt that you’re right about that. Come on, you have all kinds of ancient texts and rare books. Surely at least one of them covers subjects like life-forces.”
“Some probably will, yes.”
“Then flick through them. Find us a definitive answer. We can go from there. And before you object again, just consider that you’d say the same to me if the risk was mine to take.”
Grinding his teeth, Cain glared down at her. “So stubborn.”
It maddened him at times. As she often pointed out, he was used to having his way. Used to people hurrying to cater to his every whim, never daring to disobey or question him. Wynter, however, had no qualms with challenging him on any subject. But he liked that, liked that she demanded to be counted and wasn’t intimidated by him, so he couldn’t even complain about it.
Well, he could. But, really, it would make him a hypocritical bastard. Especially in regards to this particular matter. Because, just as she’d accused, he would make the same decision in her shoes.
Nonetheless, he was self-centered enough to have pushed her to change her mind if he’d thought it would get him anywhere. But when she did that thing where she calmly stated her case in that non-negotiable tone, he knew from past experience that he was fighting a losing battle.
“All right,”
he said, his reluctance clear. “We’ll hold off on performing the binding.”
His inner creature grumbled in annoyance at that.
“Performing,”
she echoed, her eyes lighting with curiosity. “So, what, it’s like a ritual?”
“Not quite.”
Her brows dipped. “You’re not going to explain?”
No, because he wanted her to be intrigued. And, yes, it was amusing to poke at her a little—he liked to keep her on her toes. It was only fair, since she did the same to him. “Wouldn’t you rather have the surprise?”
“No.”
He gave her a look of mock sympathy. “Hmm, what a shame.”
“Because you have no intention of telling me in advance?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Asshole,”
she tossed out, but there was no real heat in the word. “I don’t have to drink blood or anything, do I?”
Cain felt his brow crease. Her thought processes often took him off-guard, but it was another thing he liked. “Why would you even ask such a thing?”
“Well, I’d be tying my life-force to that of your creature. Blood is the elixir of life, right?”
He let out a long sigh. “You won’t have to drink blood.”
She put a hand to her chest, her shoulders lowering slightly. “I have to say, that is a relief.”
“Going back to a question I meant to ask you before . . . Do you need help dismantling and moving the ancestor altar to my Keep?”
Her nose wrinkled. “It’s best not to disturb it. That’s why I set it in the corner where it wouldn’t be knocked or anything. I had to perform a blessing just to add the silver frames to the drawings. I won’t be dissembling the altar until after All Hallows’ Eve, but thanks anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll take some of my other possessions to the Keep instead.”
Satisfied, he dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “Good. But next year, you’ll set up the altar in what will then be officially our chamber, yes?”
“Yes,”
she relented.
“Good.”
“My coven asked me to have dinner with them tonight. And, to be honest, it’s hard to turn down Hattie’s stew. Want to eat with us?”
“If you’re certain there’ll be enough stew to go around, yes, I’d like that.”
Spending an evening with the Bloodrose Coven never failed to be interesting. “How long before dinner is served?”
“Hmm, we have about fifteen minutes.”
“Not long, then. We’ll have to make it quick.”
“What?”
“I intend to fuck you.”
Her pupils dilated, and a slow smile curled her lips. “Dude, that’s literally one of my favorite things to hear you say.”
His mouth hiking up, he nipped her lower lip. “Strip while I close and lock the door. We don’t want people barging in again, do we?”
“It only happened once, and Hattie didn’t really see much.”
“Not the point since, despite what she claimed, she waltzed in with full knowledge that you and I were having sex. Now, you’re not stripping. Why is that?”
Rolling her eyes at his high-handed tone, Wynter totally ignored that her hormones started fanning themselves at said tone. Already a little tingly—yeah, just knowing how good he could make her feel was enough to push all her best levers—she peeled off her tee as he crossed to the door. Her bra went next, and her nipples tightened at the slight chill in the room. She shucked her panties and leggings as he prowled back to her, each step slow but purposeful like a predator on the hunt. It made the best kind of shiver race down her spine.
She didn’t mind that this would be fast. Nu-uh. From what she’d observed, there seemed to be something about knowing he had little time to possess her that made him more intense. Like it played on his sense of ownership, driving him to claim and mark in a very . . . almost cold, detached way. Whatever. She dug it.
Hell, she dug everything he did.
As she finally stood naked before him, his dark eyes drank her in, hot and hungry. The boldly indecent look shot straight to her womb. An electric tension built between them, sending little sparks skittering over her skin, making it heat and prickle. She licked her dry lips, her pulse racing with anticipation.
He took a single step toward her, covering the tiny bit of distance between them. “It often astounds me that everything I need could be all bound up in one pretty package.”
He nipped and licked at her lips but didn’t sweep his tongue inside, teasing and making her wait. His hands roamed over her, greedy. Reverent. Dominant. Territorial. Like someone touching a cherished possession, smug that they alone owned it.
Wynter’s breath snagged in her throat as an outpouring of electric, decadent pleasure explosively burst over her soul, so intense and hot and carnal she almost couldn’t bear it. That quickly, her body went from tingly to one big giant ache. Like she’d already suffered through hours of foreplay.
Her nerve-endings screamed to be touched. Her pussy heated and slickened. Her heartbeat galloped like crazy. Her breathing . . . well, it was fucked.
“On the bed. Spread your thighs wide.”
His voice was low. Deep. Authoritative. Wicked.
Trembling, she complied without complaint, desperate for whatever he planned to give her.
“Very good,”
he said, moving to stand at the foot of the bed, his gaze dropping to her pussy. “One day, I want you to be waiting for me in our chamber just like this. For now . . . get yourself wet and ready for me. And be quick about it. We’re short on time.”
“Getting me wet is your job.”
“Ordinarily, yes, it is.”
His hands lowered to his waistband. “It’s a job I take very seriously. But right now, all I want is to sink inside you and fuck you hard and raw.”
He lowered his zipper, freeing his hard cock. “No foreplay, no build up. Just me playing with my favorite toy.”
Her inner muscles clenched. Yeah, here came the whole cold and detached thing. She wouldn’t have thought she’d get off on sexual objectification. With her past lovers, she wouldn’t have liked it. But with Cain, it was different. She trusted him, trusted that he cared for her and that her pleasure mattered to him, and he toed the line in the exact way she needed. As such, it was easier to relax and let herself admit to and enjoy what she liked. “I’m already wet.”
“Show me.”
She dipped her fingers inside her, scooped up some of her slickness, and held out her hand.
He leaned forward. “No sense in it going to waste, is there?”
He sucked her fingers clean.
Damn if her toes didn’t just curl.
He gripped her thighs, yanked her closer, and lined up the broad tip of his cock to her gate. “Playthings don’t need to move, so put your hands above your head and keep them there. I can’t have them getting in my way.”
The words shot straight to her core. If he was planning to talk her into an orgasm, it would likely work. She put her hands above her head, loosely linking her fingers.
He punched his hips forward, forcing his cock deep, stretching her without mercy. He didn’t pause. He just pounded into her, letting out primitive little grunts that hit her in her core.
He didn’t otherwise touch her. Didn’t meet her eyes. Didn’t talk to her. He quite simply took her. Possessed her. Made use of her.
She lifted her hips to meet every pitiless thrust. He drove so deep. Slammed so hard. And it felt so fucking good.
Even with her moans, his grunts, the smack of flesh, and the slap of his balls she could hear how wet she was. It would have been embarrassing if she wasn’t consumed by pleasure.
His eyes lifted to hers, glittering with the same savage need that she felt in every thrust. “I swear I could live my life buried in this pussy.”
Waves of pleasure rolled over her soul—some hot, some cold, some crackly, some smooth. Sensation after sensation thrashed, scraped, kneaded, and played along her very being. Soon, she was adrift with pleasure and over-sensitized from head to goddamn toe, both inside and out.
Cain rolled his thumb around her clit and fuck, fuck, fuck. “Come,”
he ordered. “I want to see my baby break for me.”
He spanked her pussy just as he sent a surge of pure rapture sweeping over her soul. Oh, she broke all right. A supernova wave of euphoria caught her up and all but drowned her.
Spitting out a curse, he draped his body over hers as he hammered into her violently. His cock swelling, he licked at the corner of her eye, scooping up a tear. And then he exploded.