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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Grouch fired a nervous look at Wynter, who remained outside the cell. “Cain, I don’t know what she told you—”

“Yes, you do,” said Cain. “You’re very aware of why you’re here. What I really am struggling to understand … is why you would ignore that someone had taken what belongs to me. You may not like Wynter, but you know she’s mine. Not merely in my service, but a woman I have a claim to.

“You knew I’d be beyond pissed that she was taken. Yet, you did nothing to help her. Nor did you alert anyone of what you saw. Now why would you want me to be pissed, Grouch?”

“I-I didn’t know she was being kidnapped. The guy wasn’t carrying her or dragging her. She was walking at his side, and she wasn’t calling out for help.”

Anger whipped through Wynter and shot to her extremities. “You knew something was wrong. You saw him dump me on the floor of the van. And you smirked like a smug piece of shit.”

“Smiled. It was just a smile,” he insisted.

Maxim grunted. “Yes, because you’re so known for smiling.”

Cain took a step toward the berserker, who snapped his mouth shut. “What don’t I like? Tell me.”

Grouch swallowed. “Lies or excuses.”

“Lies and excuses. And yet, you fed me both last time you were here. You’re doing it again right now when you’re already in enough trouble as it is.” Cain slanted his head. “Does that really seem wise to you?”

Wynter almost shivered at the menace threaded through each syllable. Her Ancient could be damn scary when he wanted to be. She would genuinely hate to be on the end of that piercing, murderous glare.

Her monster was now wide awake, riveted by the action playing out in front of it, fairly salivating with anticipation as it waited for the berserker to be punished.

“Give me some honesty, Grouch,” said Cain. “Show me you have some sense of self-preservation.”

Grouch squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t think you’d really care if she disappeared. She’s just a woman who warms your bed.”

“There you go again with the lies. You weren’t thinking of whether or not I’d care. You were thinking about how her disappearance would suit you and your business. I warned you that if you made any trouble for Wynter, you’d pay for it in blood. She was in danger, and you did nothing. Which is even worse than if you’d tried sabotaging her business. You knew that. But you didn’t care. Isn’t that right?”

After a long moment, Grouch nodded. “Y-yes. I should have done something to help her or told someone what I saw,” he conceded, his voice low. “Staying quiet was a shitty thing to do.”

“Wynter might have died at the hands of her kidnappers. I’d say ‘shitty’ is an absolute understatement. Wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” Grouch glanced at her, sweat now beading his brow. “I’m sorry.”

Wynter inwardly snorted. There was no real sincerity in that apology. Only stark fear.

“You’re saying all the right things, Grouch. But I don’t know if I believe you.” Cain flicked his aide a glance. “What about you, Maxim?”

Arms folded, the gargoyle replied, “I think he’s simply telling you what he thinks you want to hear.”

Cain hummed. “So do I.”

As did Wynter.

“It doesn’t make any difference either way, really,” said Cain. “Because the thing is … I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry, Grouch. I don’t want to hear an honest confession. I just want to hear you scream.”

Grouch sucked in a breath as his back arched like a brow. Then he screamed. Like really screamed—the sound rang with pain and terror. As if someone was flaying the skin from his bones and pouring acid over the wounds.

Holy shit.

He dropped to his knees so hard she’d be surprised if he hadn’t shattered his kneecaps. Still making those bloodcurdling wails, he keeled over, his face scrunched up tight. She’d honestly never seen anyone look like they were in this much agony.

Cain was assaulting his soul, she knew. She was well aware of how pleasurable his touch could be when he reached out to her soul. Although she’d known that he could also cause her terrible pain, it wasn’t really until now that she’d properly considered just how intensely unbearable any pain he delivered would be.

Ever so casually, Cain raised his hand and closed it tight.

The screams cut off, and Grouch began to choke. His teary eyes wide, he wheezed. Grabbed at his throat. Tried sucking in air.

He stared at Cain with a plea in his eyes … and the immortal stared back at him, his gaze implacable—there was no anger there, no hint of temper, no glint of annoyance. And that made the whole thing so much more disturbing. Yet, she felt no pity for the berserker. He hadn’t cared about what could have happened to her, so why should she give a damn what happened to him?


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