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)
Cain almost rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that on board.”
He had no intention whatsoever of keeping his hands off Wynter. His creature would put up a protest if he did. It currently regarded her as something it owned—how long that would last, Cain wasn’t sure. Probably only a few days. A week at most, because the monster didn’t prize her. It had never prized any of the women it very briefly considered its own. It had only ‘claimed’ them in its way because it didn’t do well at sharing.
In that sense, it could definitely be said that the creature was as selfish as they came. But the fact was … it wasn’t built to ‘care.’ Or treasure. Or protect. It was cold-blooded. Cruel. Insidious. And it was built to kill.
“How long do you think it will be before people from Aeon come to our doorstep?” asked Seth.
“Not long,” predicted Dantalion. “The Aeons will send others in their place. They won’t come here unless they absolutely have to.”
“There is no saying that the Aeons will come at all,” said Ishtar. “They will most likely continue sending others her way.”
“Which is why it is imperative that we ensure she is protected,” Lilith pointed out. “And we will.”
A short time later, after the conversation came to an end, the Ancients began to trickle out of the solar.
Lingering, Seth said, “I take it you’re no longer planning to Rest sometime soon.”
“Definitely not,” replied Cain.
Seth rubbed at his nape. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others; I was worried Ishtar would twist my words. Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s something not quite right about Wynter. Not in a negative sense, it’s just … I can’t explain it. To be fair, though, I’ve never before met someone who has an undead soul and possesses dark magick. It could simply be that.”
It could be. But truthfully, Cain wasn’t so sure. He’d suspected from the very beginning that there was much more to Wynter than there appeared to be. That suspicion had only grown. And while he didn’t usually care to know the secrets of others, he was nothing close to indifferent where she was concerned.
He had no right to demand she part with her secrets when he was unable to part with his own. He could certainly try to figure it all out for himself, though. Yes, he could watch, observe, and study her. He’d solve the mystery of little Miss Dellavale eventually.
He’d also keep fucking her until he was no longer so greedy for everything she had to give.
Although his monster’s possessiveness would fade fast, the creature nonetheless wouldn’t object to Cain having her in his bed—it didn’t particularly care how Cain chose to entertain himself. But until the possessiveness was gone, there was no way for him to undo what he’d done on his creature’s behalf. And how the fuck could he explain that to her when he couldn’t even admit to having a monster inside him?
*
Wynter was adjusting the position of her workbench when she sensed someone enter the shed the next day. Turning, she found that there were two someones.
Well, if it isn’t the berserkers.
“What brings you here?” Seeing that they weren’t holding weapons, she added, “You’re clearly not potential customers.”
Grouch folded his arms. “We’re here to make you a proposition.”
“A proposition?” she echoed.
“We were wary of hiring you when you first came to us,” Annette told her. “Trusting strangers ain’t our thing. Now that you’ve been in the city a few days, we’ve been able to see that you’re no asshole. You’re also good at what you do. We can agree to give you a chance.”
Wynter looked from one berserker to the other. “A chance to what?”
“Work for us,” said Grouch. “On a trial basis at first. We’re talking minimum wage, but I’d say that’s more than what you’re earning per day right now.”
Then he really had no idea how much custom she got. She might have been touched by the offer … if he and his daughter weren’t acting as if they were doing Wynter some grand, charitable favor for which she should get down on her knees and give thanks. They were very clearly expecting her to pounce on their offer and snap up this amazing opportunity.
She gave them a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m good as I am.”
Grouch stared at her for a long moment. Then he puffed up his chest, his brows snapping together. “You’re not serious.”
“Uh, I really am.”
Annette perched her hands on her hips. “We’re the best blacksmiths in this town.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Wynter. “You must be super proud.”
“People come to us all the time looking for work,” Annette added.
“I’d imagine they do,” said Wynter. “Everyone wants to work with the best.”
“Except you? What, you’re bitter that we didn’t hire you before?”