Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“No clue,” replied Wynter. “It might be a bit of both.”
“What do we think of Cain?” asked Delilah. “My opinion? He’s hot as fuck. Man, I’d like me some of that if he wasn’t one seriously scary dude. I was expecting ‘scary,’ after all Wynter told me about the Aeons and all the rumors we heard about the Ancients, but Cain still ruffled my fur.”
“My hackles rose just the same,” said Xavier.
Delilah slid her gaze to Wynter. “We gonna talk about how he eye-fucked you?”
Nope, not at all. Casually forking some scrambled eggs, Wynter said, “There was no eye-fucking.”
Xavier grinned. “Oh, there was. I’m not sure that’s a good thing, given he’s an Ancient, but you definitely had his attention. You once warned me that the Aeons were very removed and didn’t really see mortals. I didn’t get what you meant until we walked into that parlor yesterday. Cain’s the same.”
Pausing, Xavier gestured at himself, Anabel, and Delilah as he added, “He saw us, spoke to us, listened to us, but he didn’t focus on us anymore than he’d have focused on a speck of dust. We didn’t really register on his radar. You, however … you he saw.”
Unease settled in Wynter’s gut. Not merely because she had an Ancient’s attention, but because part of her stupidly liked it. Hey, she’d have to be dead not to be attracted to Cain. But he was everything she shouldn’t want in a guy—dark, dangerous, pitiless. Sadly, her hormones didn’t give a crap about that.
Anabel bit her lip. “Do you think he might have sensed that you’re not simply a witch?”
“If he did, he doesn’t know exactly what I am,” said Wynter. “He’d have turned me away if that were the case. Or killed me. Whichever.” She paused. “On a whole other note, we need to go job hunting.”
Delilah looked at the wall clock. “Yes, we do. And soon.”
Anabel cringed, her fingers flexing. “I-I don’t know if I can. There are so many people, and I haven’t been able to mentally map the place out yet. I want some time to settle in first.”
Wynter touched her arm. “That’s fine. You can watch over Hattie and keep her out of trouble.” She frowned at the sound of voices yelling outside.
Anabel froze, her eyes widening. “Who’s that?”
Wynter sighed. “Seems like our dear neighbors aren’t opposed to screaming at each other first thing in the morning.”
Delilah slipped off her chair and walked into the living room. “They also apparently aren’t opposed to having a standoff outside our front gate. They’ve noticed me watching them and don’t even care. Assholes.”
“I’d rather not make enemies of two lycan packs, so we’re going to have to handle this the smart way.” Wynter looked at Anabel. “Do you have enough ingredients to get working on some potions that might help?”
The blonde nodded. “I brought plenty in my bag.”
The back door opened with a creak, and Hattie padded inside. “What’s with the shouting?”
“Lycans are arguing outside,” Delilah explained, returning to the kitchen.
Hattie hmphed. “An old woman should be able to enjoy a joint in peace. The damn book wrecked me, ending on a cliffhanger like that. And the heroine forgave the hero far too easily, in my opinion. She should have made him plead for forgiveness. I like a good, long grovel.” She hefted herself onto a chair. “All my husbands groveled.”
Delilah shot her a look. “Was this before or during the slow, excruciating deaths they endured courtesy of the ‘special teas’ you gave them?”
“During, mostly,” Hattie replied.
Wynter smiled, shaking her head. It was hard to believe that the sweet, fragile-looking woman had ever harmed a single soul. “Well, let’s go job hunting.”
When she walked out of the house soon after, the lycans had stopped arguing but were standing in their own front yards exchanging snarls. Their predatory gazes shot to Wynter, Delilah, and Xavier—none of whom did anything more than spare them cursory glances. Wynter would deal with the lycans later. For now, she had more important shit to do.
She wished the others good luck on their job-hunting adventures and then made her way toward Cain’s Keep, enjoying the feel of the artificial sun’s warmth on her skin. She couldn’t see much of the Keep, thanks to the stone, fortified walls that surrounded both it and the bailey. Stark and imposing, the walls had integrated bastions and watch towers.
Plenty of people passed her; none so much as tipped their chin her way. They merely stared, openly curious. She didn’t get the sense that they were being rude. It was more like they were reserving judgment for the time being. Well, all right.
She walked through the arched opening in the stark walls and then found herself in the bailey. A courtyard lay in the center. Workshops, barns, and stables were on the right. Some sort of quarters were situated on the left, along with a brewery, a bakehouse, and—aha—the blacksmith’s shop.