Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Ishtar met Azazel’s glare. “You would really trade a mortal’s life for our sanity? Because we will lose that sanity if the Aeons do as they have threatened.”
Cain frowned at her. “You keep talking as if this is some sort of democracy. It wouldn’t matter if all six of you wanted to succumb to the Aeons’ demands, I would not hand over my consort to them or anyone else.”
“You will not be asked to do so,” said Dantalion. “As we’ve already discussed, rolling over for the Aeons and showing them our belly isn’t the answer to any of our problems.”
The other Ancients nodded, bar Ishtar.
She hissed. “You cannot all be serious.”
“You know,” began Cain, “it was Wynter who convinced me not to kill you. She’s right in that all seven of us need to be standing together against the Aeons if they come. But if you step another foot wrong where she’s concerned, I will make you suffer, Ishtar. Gravely. I don’t have to kill you to do that.”
She swallowed. “Cain—”
“Not one person here would object. Not if you betrayed me a second time. If you truly value your life, you will heed me in this.” Cain paused. “Oh, and I’d advise you not to kick up a fuss about the punishment I administered.”
She froze. “Punishment?”
“As I said, I don’t need to kill you to make you suffer.”
Ishtar stared at him for a long moment. “What have you done?”
“Well, I asked myself . . . what does Ishtar value most other than herself and Inanna? You like to surround yourself with things that make you feel good about you, don’t you? Shallow and materialistic though it might be, the contents of your bedchamber matter more to you than any of the people in your life. The collection—made up of the old, the new, the fashionable, and the sentimental—is your pride and joy. So many dresses, so many shoes, so many purses, so many collectibles, so many keepsakes. All are now ashes.”
She paled. “You’re lying.”
“I warned you countless times to leave Wynter be. You really should have listened.”
Ishtar shot out of her seat and left the room in a blur of movement.
Azazel looked at Cain. “Did you really destroy everything in her bedchamber?”
“Right down to the last pair of socks,” confirmed Cain.
Inanna sighed. “She will be bawling her eyes out in no time at all. It might not seem like such a big deal to anyone else, but the collection she started so long ago truly was important to her. I would say you have made your point, Cain.”
Yes, so would he. “Let’s hope for her sake that I don’t have to make it again.”
*
Wynter placed the herbal talisman beneath the pillow on what had become her side of Cain’s bed. Anabel and Delilah had helped her create it, their knowledge of herbs and potions better than her own. Together, the three of them had also created talismans for the entire coven.
Also, Delilah had placed a protective spell on their consciousness for added insurance—it essentially thickened their natural mental barriers. The spell would wear off quickly, but it could easily be repeated each day. Wynter wasn’t taking chances that Saul wouldn’t think to strike at her through them.
“Are you sure it will work?” asked Cain as he began to unbutton his shirt.
Her gaze dropped to his chest. She let herself enjoy the show as all that sleek tattooed skin stretched over hard muscle was bared to her view. Damn if her blood didn’t heat. Her body was so totally easy for him. “Absolutely positive,” she finally replied. “Both Anabel and Delilah agreed.”
“I would imagine your coven didn’t take the news of Saul’s attack well.”
“They lost their shit in an epic fashion.” She’d imagine that Ishtar had done the same after discovering that all her stuff in her chamber was destroyed. Ha. Wynter didn’t say as much, though. She didn’t want to talk about that bitch tonight. “You’re certain that he has no chance of hijacking your dream?”
Cain slipped off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. “He’d never manage to invade the consciousness of an Ancient.”
Taking him at his word, she said, “Okay. I really hope we can move on from this topic now, then, ’cause I’m a little busy objectifying you.”
He let out a chuckle that rumbled with pure male satisfaction. “As it’s you, I’ll let it pass.”
As she watched him undress, Wynter stripped herself down to her panties. She grabbed the waistband of her underwear, ready to slip them down her legs, but then he shook his head.
“I like to unwrap my own gifts,” he told her, gorgeously naked, his dick standing to attention. “Turn around.” It wasn’t anything close to a request. It was a clear directive that rang with dominance and authority.
She turned. “Dude, you’re making my hormones swoon.”