The Wicked in Me (Devil’s Cradle #1) Read Online Suzanne Wright

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Witches Tags Authors: Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
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“Very good guess. In fact, he seemed to get off on it.”

“I got that impression.” Delilah sobered a little. “Think he’d be able to handle what you are?”

“He’d handle it. It’s the way he’d handle it that’s the problem.”

“He doesn’t strike me as a person who’s easily fazed.”

“It’s not that I think he’ll fear me, Del. I’m not even sure it’s an emotion he can feel. But he’ll want me dead all the same. Every single one of the Ancients will. At the very least, they’d toss me out of Devil’s Cradle.”

Delilah stood up a little straighter. “If they did, you wouldn’t be heading off alone. We’d go with you.”

“I wouldn’t ask any of you to—”

“We’d go with you,” she repeated, her voice hard. “Would you stay here if one of us was kicked out?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Then you get it. Now let’s—Hattie, you’re not supposed to be reading right now, we’ve got stuff to do,” Delilah called out, looking toward the kitchen yet again.

“I’m not reading,” came Hattie’s reply.

Delilah’s lips thinned. “Woman, I can see you looking down at an open book.”

“I’m just admiring the font.”

“You’re talking out of your ass is what you’re doing,” Wynter cut in, turning to look at her.

“Speaking of asses, there’s an anal sex scene in here,” said Hattie. “Why would he tell her to push out as he pushes in? That’s risky business. I mean, she could fart.”

Wynter closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t have this conversation. Stop laughing, Del, it ain’t funny. Now I have just enough time to go shower and change, I’ll be back soon.”

The day seemed to drag on, though Wynter couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t like it was a bad day. Plenty of customers came and went, and some products were so high in demand that Delilah had to take orders.

As usual, they were tired by the end of the workday. Hattie, though, was more chipper than usual as they ate a late dinner. A knock at the door had her hazel eyes going wide with excitement. “Oh, this could be him,” she said, standing.

“Him? Who’s him?” asked Wynter. “And why do you look all happy and flushed?”

“Hattie has a ‘gentleman caller,’” explained Xavier, smiling.

“A fellow witch,” she added, patting her hair.

“Don’t worry, he’s not trying to lure her away from us or anything,” Xavier told Wynter. “He’d simply like to get to know her better.”

There was no ‘simply’ when they were dealing with someone who handled betrayal and heartache by whipping up poisonous teas. “Just don’t marry him, Hattie. That’s all I ask.” Providing there was no walk down the aisle, the guy should be safe.

Hattie waved that away and hurried out of the kitchen, humming to herself. When she returned, she didn’t have a strange male at her side. No, it was Maxim.

Wynter blinked. “Oh, hey, Maxim.”

His expression serious, he said, “Cain would like you to join him at the manor. Your old coven is here.”

Well, fuck me sideways.

*

Standing in the grand foyer with Azazel, Cain turned as he heard two sets of footfalls heading their way. And there was his witch. She looked remarkably calm and casual, given the situation. In fact, she seemed more interested in the décor than why she’d been called to the mansion. Which was probably why Maxim kept casting her curious glances.

Her eyes met Cain’s and … no, there was still nothing there to suggest that she was feeling anything besides blasé. If he hadn’t known how much the Moonstar coven had fucked her over, he might have bought her indifferent act. His creature, too, wasn’t so convinced that she was fine—it knew exactly how good she was at showing people only what she wanted them to see.

“Right on time, little Priestess,” said Cain, resisting the urge to touch her—that could wait.

She nodded at both him and Azazel. “Maxim says my old coven is here.” She glanced around. “What room are they in?”

“They’re outside,” Cain told her. “After what they did to you, they’re not welcome here. They were told to wait at the gates. I will go out there first to talk with them. You and Azazel will follow soon after.”

She stared at him for a long moment, looking as though she might object, but then she briefly inclined her head. “All right.”

“So careful to keep your expression neutral,” he said. “I hope you don’t have it in your head that I’m about to make a deal with these people. I’ve assured you that I will protect you. I meant it.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, Cain stalked out of the manor and down the driveway. The iron gates swung open with a faint creak, but he didn’t step out of them. None of the dozen witches moved forward. They stood very still, eyeing him warily.

Finally, the woman in the center gave him a placid smile, her lips trembling slightly. “Good evening. My name is Esther, Priestess of—”


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