The Wicked In Me

Azazel leaned back against the wall of the solar room the next morning as he said, “Her story checks out. My source confirmed what she told us about her past, her mother, and why both were exiled.”

Cain turned away from the window overlooking his garden. “You thought she was lying?”

“I expect everyone to lie to me, because I lie to everyone else. Our kind live a lie.” Azazel frowned, pensive. “Plus, she has this unfamiliar vibe about her. I don’t think she’s all witch. Maybe she’s a hybrid of some kind. She never mentioned her father. It could be that he isn’t a witch. My source isn’t sure who he is, only that he never came to Aeon with her old coven.”

“Do the Aeons suspect she’s responsible for the land’s deterioration?”

“Yes, though they don’t know how.”

“Did you tell your source there’s a curse at work?” If so, Cain would be pissed.

“No. That’s a need-to-know thing. He doesn’t need to know.” Azazel tipped his head to the side. “So, you took her home with you last night.”

“Yes, and I’d like to get back to her before she wakes up and disappears, so are we done?”

Blinking, Azazel pushed away from the wall. “Wait, she’s still here?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“My bedchamber.”

Azazel squinted. “As in your personal chamber, or one of the rooms you use for women you bring home?”

“The first,” Cain carelessly replied, going for aloof.

“Don’t act like that’s nothing, Cain. Our monsters don’t easily accept other people in their den. Especially for an overnight stay. Your creature didn’t fight you on it?”

“It likes having her where it can see her. Which is more about control than anything else. It wants to be able to see for itself that no other man is near her.”

“So it’s possessive of her?”

“It insisted on me plugging her.”

Azazel’s lips parted. “You’re serious?”

“It isn’t prepared to share her. If I hadn’t done what it wanted, it would have done the deed itself. Then it probably would have ended up killing her, though not necessarily on purpose.”

“Does she know she’s been plugged?”

“She believes it’s simply a barrier. Obviously, I can’t explain the situation to her.”

Azazel puffed out a breath. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t relate at the fuck all to your situation. I know our monsters are territorial by nature, but mine has never wanted me to plug anyone. Is this normal for you?”

Far from it. “There have been times when mine has wanted me to plug other women, but it’s never insisted on it before. So the most it has done is sulk for an hour when I refused to act on what it wanted. It’s never been prepared to take the matter into its own hands before. I don’t know what it is about her that has it acting out of character.”

“It’s not the only one acting out of character. As far as I know, you’ve only allowed one other woman to enter your personal chamber—that was Ishtar. That didn’t end well. And I don’t just mean your relationship with her.”

No, he meant that Cain’s creature had grown to feel so much distaste for her that it had hated having a den she’d ‘soiled.’ That was how the monster had seen it. Cain had eventually had to switch chambers.

“If your creature decides it wants to keep Wynter—”

“It won’t,” said Cain. “In a few days, it’ll be bored of her.”

“But if it isn’t, if it does want to keep her …”

“She’s fucked,” Cain finished with a sigh.

Azazel gave a slow nod. “Yeah, she’s fucked.”

*

Walking through the stone corridors of the Keep, Wynter shook her head at herself. God, she’d actually passed out after sex. Like some kind of swooning maiden. How embarrassing.

Cain, being a person who seemed amused by other people’s discomfort, would for sure find her embarrassment hilarious. As such, she’d been kind of relieved when she woke to find he was gone.

After she’d dragged on her clothes, she’d exited the chamber to find Maxim waiting outside. He’d informed her that Cain was in a meeting with another Ancient. She wondered if it was Ishtar but then shoved the matter out of her mind. It wasn’t Wynter’s business.

Cain apparently also hoped she’d wait for him to return. Nu-uh. She had shit to do. And the more time she spent around that beautiful bastard, the more threatened she felt as a woman. Because with the power he could wield over her body and soul—bringing her a pleasure that no other man ever had or ever could—he’d set up a craving in her.

After thanking Maxim for escorting her to the exit, she left the Keep and headed home.

She walked into the living room to find Delilah organizing her for-sale cosmetics near the window.

Taking in the sight of Wynter, Delilah smiled. “Well, well, well, someone looks awfully well fucked. Had a good night, Priestess?”

Wynter shot her a droll look. “Don’t call me that.”

Snickering, Delilah glanced toward the kitchen. “You got those potions ready yet, Anabel? Customers will be coming soon.”

“I’m almost done!” Anabel shouted.

Delilah snorted. “You said that half an hour ago.”

“You can’t rush genius!”

Rolling her eyes, Delilah turned back to Wynter. “Quick warning, Anabel’s all in a tizzy.”

Wynter frowned. “Why?”

“Diego sent her flowers. He doesn’t seem to have realized why Anabel switched from a Nervous Nelly to a bloodthirsty bitch in the gauntlet, but it would seem he’s happy to roll with it. She isn’t sure how to handle the attention or acceptance, though. Given Cain all but dragged you out of the arena while giving you sex eyes, I’m pretty confident in assuming that he wasn’t put off by your vicious performance last night.”

“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—”

“Yes, I heard,” he said, sure to sound bored. “What do you want?”

She slowly inhaled, clasping her hands in front of her. “There is a rumor that a stray member of my coven is under your correction. I have come to take her home, where she belongs.”

“Have you now?”

“Her name is Wynter Dellavale. I have it on good authority that she is here. If you would be so kind as to summon her—”

“No one would ever describe me as kind.”

Someone from the slowly gathering crowd snickered, drawing the attention of the coven. These witches weren’t the first people to come searching for an outcast, and they wouldn’t be the last. The residents often enjoyed watching such people be turned away just as they were once turned away by those who mattered to them.

“What do you want with her?” Cain asked.

“To take her home, as I said,” replied Esther. “She is ours.”

Was she fuck. “Yours?” The word almost came out on a growl—a sound that would have come from Cain’s creature. It really didn’t like hearing another refer to Wynter as theirs. Like him, it wanted this bitch gone. “You didn’t seem to feel that way when you chose to cast her out of your coven.”

Esther licked her lips. “That was a mistake. We will make it up to her.”

“Hmm now, see, this is my problem … I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you give a whisper of a shit about Wynter. Of course, I don’t expect you to admit that to someone whose protection she is under—it would be unwise of you, to say the least. What I do expect is for you to leave here without drama.”

“But—”

“The bounty hunters did pass on my message to the Aeons, yes?”

Esther cleared her throat. “Yes. They claimed she is now your property. Your kind protects what belongs to them—I know that. But you have no real idea of who she is or what she is capable of. If you did, you would not be so eager to keep her at Devil’s Cradle.”

“I know everything I need to know.”

“But Wynter is the source of that information, and she cannot be called a reliable source.” Esther sniffed. “I’m sure she told you that her magick is tainted because she was killed as a child. That is a lie. Her death was an accident. She was not tortured as she claims. She invented that lie so that she would not be held responsible for what she did to the boys who accidentally ended her life. Ten years old, and she murdered two teenage boys. Hacked their bodies with that dark magick of hers.”

“Sounds like my kind of girl,” said Cain, hiding his surprise at the latter revelation. There was every chance that the Priestess was lying, of course. She’d certainly lied when claiming that Wynter’s death had been an accident—he’d heard the note of deceit in her voice. But that note had been absent during her latter claim. He needed to have a talk with his little witch for sure. “I’m pretty sure I’d have done worse.”

Esther’s face tightened. “Her magick isn’t merely dark, it is death itself. She has ruined the land at Aeon. You think she will not do the same to your town?”

“Since I don’t intend to exile her as the Aeons did, no, I don’t think she’ll make any such attempt.” Cain heaved a bored sigh. “I’d say we’re done here.”

“Protecting her would be a mistake,” Esther blurted out.

He narrowed his eyes. “Now that almost sounded like a threat.”

She swallowed, her eyes flickering nervously. “The Aeons asked me to pass on a message.”

“This ought to be good,” he muttered.

“They wish me to remind you that they gave you mercy all those years ago. They could have killed you; they didn’t. You owe them for that, they said.”

Anger coursed through him and put a rock in his gut. “Owe them?” he echoed, his tone silky smooth. “Do you hear that, Azazel? We owe them.”

The porch floorboards creaked and then … “Yeah, I heard.”

Esther’s eyes flew to something behind Cain. “Ah, there you are. It is time to come home, Wynter.”

“Aeon isn’t my home,” Wynter said, no inflection in her voice, as she and Azazel moved to flank Cain.

Esther’s eyes flared. “It will be no one’s home if you do not fix what you have done.”

Wynter snorted. “You can’t tell me that the big, bad Aeons are struggling to handle a little environmental erosion, surely.”

She scanned the sea of faces, taking in the hard expressions, marveling at how—despite all they’d done—it still hurt that they’d so easily banded against her. But then, she’d been an outsider to them since she was ten years old. It was now simply official. Rafe’s absence did lessen the sting slightly.

She cocked her head. “Did you know that the exiled are killed before they can even reach the border?”

Surprise rippled across many faces, including that of Esther.

“Ah, you didn’t. Well, let me tell you … there’s no memory-wipe process. They’re paralyzed and then thrown over the falls.”

“That is a lie,” Esther insisted.

“No, it’s not. The banished die.”

“If that were true, you would not be alive.”

“If it wasn’t true, I’d have no memories. But I do. I live because I managed to escape Wagner.” And then … well, she was pretty sure her monster ate most if not all of him, but that was a whole other story. That same monster was currently watching Esther closely, entertaining the many—and very creative—ways it would make her suffer.

Esther shook her head, dismissing Wynter’s claims with ease, and said, “I have no time for this. I do not know what you did with that death magick of yours, but you need to come home and reverse whatever spell you cast.”

Wynter pursed her lips. “Yeah, nah.”

“You will return to Aeon, and you will do so immediately.”

“It’s like you’ve forgotten that you’re not my Priestess anymore. Weird.”

“Wynter—”

“The only way I’m leaving Devil’s Cradle is if I have no choice but to go. And the only person who can force me to leave is Cain.” Feeling like a cold fist was wrapped tight around her heart, Wynter met his dark, currently unreadable gaze. “Do you want me gone?” If he said yes, he was so dead.

His brow inched up, imperious. “You and I have a deal, remember?” He cut his eyes back to Esther. “Wynter stays here.”

And the cold fist released her heart.

The Priestess gritted her teeth. “The Aeons—”

“—are not who you think they are,” Cain told her. “Notice that they didn’t come here themselves. This is a dangerous place. You are their people. But they insisted on you facing the danger, not them.”

“This is unhallowed ground,” said Esther. “They cannot step foot on it.”

Cain felt his lips twitch. “Is that what they told you?”

Azazel chuckled. “Such story spinners.”

Cain dismissively flicked a hand and half-turned away from the coven. “Return to your rotting home. Tell the Aeons that Wynter will remain here.”

“You cannot possibly be willing to risk their wrath over this,” Esther insisted. “She is a mere witch. No one important. Her magick is impure, twisted—”

“More powerful than yours, which I suspect is your real problem with Wynter,” Cain finished.

Esther’s mouth snapped shut. For a moment. “I implore you to reconsider—”

“No imploring,” said Azazel. “This is tedious enough as it is.”

Oh, Wynter couldn’t have agreed more.

When the Priestess again went to protest, Cain clipped, “No, we are done. You will leave, or you will die. The choice is yours.”

Esther clenched her fists. “She will ruin your town. She—”

“Leave, or die,” Cain ordered.

Wynter crossed her metaphorical fingers that the bitch would be dumb enough to push him. But, her cheeks flushing, Esther pivoted on her heel and stalked away with her coven members in tow. No such luck.

The crowd who’d gathered smirked and poked at the witches, spouting taunting comments like, “That’s it, run along.”

Cain glanced from her to Azazel and then tipped his chin toward the manor. In silence, they headed inside.

Back in the foyer, Azazel turned to her. “Your old coven is a joke.”

“You won’t get an argument from me,” said Wynter.

Looking deep into those quicksilver eyes, Cain tilted his head as he asked, “Was what Esther claimed about the teenagers true?”

Not even a flicker of emotion crossed Wynter’s face. “That they accidentally took my life? No. That I took theirs? Yes. I did mention that they were executed.”

“You didn’t say that you were the one who performed the executions,” Cain pointed out. It made him wonder what else she’d left out of her story.

“People always give me weird looks when they learn what happened to the boys,” said Wynter. “And hey, I get it. But I don’t like it. Surely there’s stuff that you two haven’t publicly shared because you know others will react in a way you won’t like.”

Unease tingled its way down Cain’s spine. “What makes you think that?”

“You and the Aeons are all super secretive,” she reminded him. “You let people draw their own conclusions, and you don’t bother to confirm or deny any theories. It stands to reason that you simply feel some things are better left unsaid. And no, I’m not asking for clarification on that.” She paused. “I would, however, like to know if you have any idea of who the Aeons might send next.”

What she wanted was to change the subject, Cain thought. And he had to admit she was smooth at easing a conversation away from one topic and onto another. He wouldn’t call her on it now, though. Not when he sensed that the scene outside hadn’t been quite as easy for her as she’d like him to believe.

“I doubt they’ll insist your old coven returns,” he said. “But someone will come. Keepers, perhaps. The Aeons will only come if it’s a last resort.”

Wynter poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Is there an Aeon who you’d hesitate to hurt? That might be who they’ll send.”

Cain exchanged a look with Azazel. “There’s one, but they wouldn’t send her.”

“Why not?” asked Wynter.

“Because they prefer to keep she and I apart,” replied Cain. “And they would expect me to keep her here, which wouldn’t suit them.”

Wynter’s brow puckered for the briefest moment. “An ex of yours?”

“My mother.”

Wynter slanted her head. “But she sided against you in the war, right?”

“It wasn’t quite as simple as that.”

She parted her lips as if to question him further, but whatever she saw on his face made her instead choose to hold back her words.

Azazel turned to Cain, claimed he had somewhere to be, and then excused himself.

Finally, Cain crossed to Wynter and allowed himself to touch her. He smoothed her hair over her shoulder and palmed the side of her neck. “It was hard for you. That scene.”

She averted her gaze. “It shouldn’t have been. It’s not like I thought they cared about me or anything. I already knew I meant nothing to them.”

“But you were hardly going to enjoy having a reminder of that, were you?”

“I suppose not,” she muttered. “Can we talk about something other than those assholes?”

Since he would much prefer to see the strain gone from her face, he didn’t push. “We can talk about how you were gone when I returned to my chamber this morning. I didn’t like it.” He bit her lip in punishment, and her pupils dilated. “You knew I wanted you to wait for me.”

“I would have been late for work if I’d stayed.”

He cupped her hips. “I would have made it worth it.”

Her mouth curved. “Probably, but I’m not going to allow you and your magickal cock to blind me.”

“Magickal?”

“I have responsibilities that I take seriously. And I know better than to give you your own way all the time in any case.”

Cain slid his hands up her back. “If I had my own way when it comes to you, you would be tied to my bed all day every day, ready for whenever I want you.”

“No, I really don’t think you would. I mean, it would be pretty hard for me to use the bathroom, and I don’t think you’d want me making a mess of your bed.”

“Hmm, maybe I would instead put you in chains, then. Chains long enough that you could make it to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “I don’t like how serious you look right now. I gotta say, it’s kind of freaking me out.”

“I doubt many things truly freak you out, little witch.” He kissed her softly, teasingly. “Come home with me.”

“Hmm, what’ll happen if I do?”

“I’ll make it worth your while in orgasms.”

“And soul-gasms?”

He felt his mouth quirk at the terminology. “Those, too.”

She splayed her hands on his chest. “All right, I’m in.”