Suzanne Wright lives in England with her husband and two children. When she’s not spending time with her family, she’s writing, reading or doing her version of housework – sweeping the house with a look.

She’s worked in a pharmaceutical company, at a Disney Store, at a primary school as a voluntary teaching assistant, at the RSPCA and has a First Class Honours degree in Psychology and Identity Studies.

As to her interests, she enjoys reading, writing, reading, writing (sort of eat, sleep, write, repeat), spending time with her family, movie nights with her sisters and playing with her two Bengal kittens.

To connect with Suzanne online:

Website: http://www.suzannewright.co.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/suzannewrightfanpage

Also by Suzanne Wright:

THE DARK IN YOU

Burn

Blaze

Ashes

Embers

Shadows

Omens

Fallen

Reaper

Hunted

DEVIL’S CRADLE

The Wicked in Me

PIATKUS

First published in Great Britain in 2024 by Piatkus

Copyright © Suzanne Wright, 2024

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-0-349-43458-2

Piatkus

An imprint of

Little, Brown Book Group

Carmelite House

50 Victoria Embankment

London EC4Y 0DZ

An Hachette UK Company

www.hachette.co.uk

www.littlebrown.co.uk

For Billy

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Acknowledgements

Walking along the plaza’s cobbled path, Wynter Dellavale cast a sideways glance at the pretty blonde beside her. “Relax, nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Famous last words,” Anabel muttered, tense as a bow. “I don’t know why you and Delilah couldn’t have made the shopping trip for me. You know how much I hate being up here on the surface.” Rubbing at her shoulder, she nervously glanced around as if someone might leap out of the evening shadows at any given moment. Just about everything made Anabel anxious. Even herself.

“It’s not good for you to never step foot out of the cottage,” said Wynter. “We’ve been over this already.”

“But I’m safe at home.”

“You’re safe out here, too.”

Anabel’s brows snapped together. “Where death lurks around every corner? Puhlease.”

Wynter rolled her eyes. The problem with Anabel was that her soul remembered each of her past lives and, therefore, each of her past deaths—all of which were allegedly violent. The blonde had never lived past the age of thirty and didn’t expect to do so in this lifetime either. Hence the paranoia.

If left to her own devices, Anabel would remain in either her bedroom or their kitchen while brewing potions. She would also use herself as a test subject while creating new concoctions if unsupervised. That tended to have after-effects, both short-term and long-term . . . which might or might not account for why the woman believed she was the reincarnation of Bloody Mary. Wynter couldn’t be sure.

“You know—and this is just a suggestion—maybe you don’t have to be so insistent that death has our coven in its sights,” said Wynter.

Anabel gave her wide eyes. “I’m telling you, its ice-cold breath is fanning my neck as we speak. Don’t give me that look. People try to kill us, like, all the time.”

“Fugitives generally have that problem,” Wynter pointed out.

She and Anabel had first met after being kidnapped by the same bounty hunters that also snatched the rest of their coven. Wynter hadn’t expected the captives to stay with her after she helped them escape. Nor had she thought that they’d propose they form a coven—one Delilah had named the Bloodrose Coven. They had elected Wynter as their Priestess, ignoring her objections, and she’d eventually decided to just go with it.

Anabel snorted. “The prices on our heads are the least of our problems now that we’re caught in the middle of a long-standing war between the Ancients and the Aeons.”

That was true. There was a lot of beef between the two camps of immortals. Millennia-old beef, in fact. All part of the first civilization, they’d once resided together in the town of Aeon. A war broke out back then, and seven survivors of the losing side were permitted to live but dumped here. Which sounded merciful, but there was far more to it than that. And it wasn’t good.

“But hey, of course you’re not worried for your life,” said Anabel with a little huff. “Why would you be? You can’t die. Me, though? I can.”

Wynter felt a frown tug at her brow. “I die. I just . . . come back.”

Few things could permanently kill a revenant—something she’d become when a deity had come to a dying ten-year-old Wynter and offered to send a monster after the boys who’d attacked her.

Kali occasionally made such offers if She felt that a witch’s death was an injustice. When She made Her offer to Wynter, the deity hadn’t specified that Wynter would return to life and be a vessel for that monster. One that wreaked vengeance like a master.

“Well, the rest of us don’t come back,” said Anabel. “And I’d appreciate it if you remember that the next time you think of putting me in the path of danger like this.”

Wynter crossed her eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. You’re fine. I’m fine.”

“For now. That can change in an instant, my friend.”

Wynter metaphorically threw up her arms. Really, she knew better than to waste her time trying to get Anabel to think past her mistrust of the world. It was too ingrained in her at this point.

In truth, Wynter didn’t have a whole lot of room to judge. She might not be a ball of paranoia, but she was just as hypervigilant—hence why she once more scanned their surroundings.

Smack bang in the middle of nowhere, Devil’s Cradle was framed by lakes, woods, and steep mountains. Taking in the many houses of varying colors, shapes, and sizes, she was again struck by how the town somehow resembled both a coastal village and a military compound. There were bars, restaurants, and plenty of stores within and around the plaza. Pastureland, warehouses, and utility structures lay beyond.

Wynter had grown very fond of the primal, untamed landscape that surrounded them. She liked looking at the hills and crooks and tall, multi-colored rock spires. The badlands possessed a haunting beauty that outweighed the lush, colorful, picture-perfect land of Aeon. She’d spent most of her years there along with her old coven. Until they’d gone and ostracized her, the pricks.

In her opinion, the best thing about Devil’s Cradle was the half-medieval city beneath it. Residents were permitted to live either underground or on the surface. Wynter and her coven had chosen to do the former.

Also known as the Home of Monsters, Devil’s Cradle gave refuge to many preternatural beings. Criminals, outcasts, crazies, fugitives, near-extinct species, the list went on. It wasn’t your typical safe haven. It wasn’t peaceful or crime-free. But you could count on the seven Ancient beings who’d founded the place to protect, shelter, and never give you up to outsiders . . . providing you paid their substantial fee.

And what might that be?

Partial rights to your soul. Rights you would only get back once you left Devil’s Cradle.

Wynter glanced down at the distinctive brand on her palm. A “C” curved around a triangle that had a snake hooked through it. It was the brand of Cain, signaling that she was in his service and under his protection . . . and that her soul partly belonged to him.

Naturally, she hadn’t been comfortable with handing over such rights to her soul, but her choices were limited if she was to stay out of the reach of the Aeons. Yeah, she wasn’t their favorite person since, somewhat pissed after being exiled and discovering that they’d ordered for her mother to be killed, Wynter had infected the land with a rot that they were unable to combat. Well, karma came for everyone eventually. They really should have considered that.

She’d known that they would either put a price on her head or personally track her down themselves, so neither had come as a surprise. Wynter had no clue exactly what the Aeons were, but she did know that they were exceedingly powerful. Too powerful for her to take on alone. She’d also been well-aware that they feared the Ancients—particularly Cain—and that had been good enough for her to haul her ass to Devil’s Cradle.

It had been a wise decision.

The Aeons had indeed come for her, but the Ancients had refused to give her up even under the threat of an attack. The attack a few months ago had turned the town into a battlefield. There had been plenty of casualties on both sides. But whereas the seven Ancients had all survived, the Aeons hadn’t been so lucky.

The Aeon who’d led the attack, Lailah—who’d also been one of the four ruling Aeons—had met her doom during the battle. That had been super fun for Wynter to witness. Particularly since it was Lailah who’d officially exiled her.

Lailah’s brother, Saul, had been badly injured and dragged away by those who were retreating. It was possible that he, too, was dead.

Fingers crossed.

Tumbling into Cain’s bed hadn’t been part of Wynter’s plan when she’d come seeking a place at Devil’s Cradle. Nor had falling for him, for that matter. But both had happened, and she regretted neither.

Initially, she’d thought that they would leave it at a one-night stand, or that he would get bored after a few rolls in the sack given that immortals tired of things fairly easily. But it hadn’t worked out that way at all.

Did Cain care for her? Maybe. It was hard to say. He was both possessive and protective to the extreme, and he’d been clear that he wanted what they had to be permanent. But they had never really talked about “feelings.”

They didn’t talk about a lot of things.

Both had their secrets. He’d learned some of hers, but not all. Just the same, Wynter knew a few of his. While she longed to know more, she didn’t press him. Mostly because he would press her in return. There were things that she simply wasn’t at liberty to say—Kali wouldn’t allow it.

Maybe one day Wynter would be able to let it all hang out. For now, she needed to keep a few things to herself. She sensed that he didn’t at all enjoy being partially in the dark but, like her, he didn’t push for answers.

Finally, she and Anabel arrived at the convenience store. The bell above the door jingled as Wynter pushed it open. They each grabbed a metal basket and hooked it on the crook of their elbow.

Anabel turned to her. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible, so it’s best if we split up.” She tore her shopping list into two pieces and handed one half to Wynter. “You grab that stuff, I’ll nab the rest.”

Scanning the slip of paper, Wynter frowned. “What kind of potion could possibly require lubricant? Or is that for personal use?” she asked with a teasing smile.

Anabel’s lips thinned. “No, it’s an ingredient for some potions.”

“Men’s cologne?”

“Also for potions.”

“Bug spray?”

“Again, for potions.”

Wynter felt her nose scrunch up. “Seriously?”

“Don’t question my methods. Trust in my genius.”

“Wait, laxatives? You put laxatives in your brews too?”

Anabel’s face flushed. “No, they’re for . . . something else. Now stop quizzing me so we can get moving. The less time we spend on the surface, the better.” She narrowed her gaze at a passing couple who eyed Wynter a little too boldly. “You’d think that the staring would have stopped by now.”

Not necessarily. It wasn’t every day that people learned that they might live among a revenant.

On first arriving at Devil’s Cradle, Wynter had done a good job of posing as a standard witch, so the residents hadn’t suspected that she was anything more. Not until the recent battle when Kali’s mark had surfaced on her face—a metallic blue snake that decorated one side of her face like an “S,” its mouth wide open near the corner of her eye. The deity usually kept it concealed.

“They can’t quite decide if I’m really a revenant or if I used a glamor spell to fake Kali’s mark in the hope of fooling the Aeons into believing I’m Favored by a deity,” said Wynter.

Their skepticism was understandable. After all, revenants weren’t really people. They weren’t truly alive. They existed, they sought revenge, and they fed on blood and flesh to sustain the monster they hosted. But they didn’t age or have a heartbeat. Nor did they stick around after avenging their deaths—it was only a need for vengeance that tethered them to this realm. They generally only lasted days before returning to a natural state of death.

Wynter’s undead soul, however, hadn’t returned to the netherworld after her murder was avenged. Her body hadn’t decayed, her appetite never ran to blood and flesh, her heart beat strong and steady in her chest, and she aged like a regular person. Also, she couldn’t seem to permanently die. But that didn’t mean that she one day wouldn’t.

“They can be confused about it all without staring at you,” said Anabel.

“Forget about them, they’re not important.”

“Of course they’re not. But they’re still annoying.” Anabel adjusted the position of the basket she was holding. “I’ll meet you at the checkout counter. Be fast.”

They parted ways and headed down separate aisles. Humming, Wynter chucked one item after another into her basket, mentally crossing them off the list. She also added a few things for herself.

Reaching the wall of built-in coolers, she pulled open the refrigerator door. Cold air danced over her skin. She grabbed an energy drink and then closed the door.

Her heart jumped as she saw a man’s reflection in the glass, smirking. Saul. She spun . . . but there was no one there. Or it didn’t seem as though there was. She swiped out her arm but connected with nothing but air.

Hearing him laugh, she whirled back to face the refrigerator just in time to see his chuckling reflection fade away.

What in the rickety fuck?

Again, she slashed her arm through the air. Again, her fingers touched nothing solid.

He was definitely not physically here. Kali would have warned her if he was, just as She did when any threats were nearby—the deity was helpful that way. Wynter hadn’t merely imagined seeing Saul’s reflection, though. Only . . . it couldn’t have truly been a reflection if he wasn’t actually there, could it?

Not knowing what to make of the weird little incident, she made a mental note to discuss it with Cain. He’d surely have answers.

Wynter quickly grabbed the last few items on her list and then made a beeline for the checkout counter, where Anabel waited. Not wanting to spook the already on-edge blonde, Wynter said nothing about the Saul thingy as they bagged and paid for their stuff.

“Everything okay?” Anabel asked her as they walked to the exit. “You seem . . . tense.”

“I’m fine.” Wynter took two steps outside. An otherworldly breeze raced over her, humming with warning. Before she had a moment to react, a mini whirlwind built around her. A whirlwind in which Saul stood. Fuck it all.

A net of fire engulfed her before she had the chance to strike—a net so weirdly heavy it knocked her on her ass. Her insides rolled, the wind died down, and she realized that she was no longer at the plaza. No, she was in the woods on the outskirts of the town. She was also still caught up in the net, and freaking Saul still stood in front of her.

The net was uncomfortably hot and tight. Worse, it seemed to be stopping her from using her magick, because her efforts to destroy it were having zero effect.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Wynter’s monster slunk to the surface, not a fan of the Aeons at the best of times. Right now, it was eager to take control and end the bastard in front of them. It wasn’t alone in that.

Eying the flickering ball of red power in Saul’s hand, Wynter urged her monster to wait. She was difficult to kill, true, but his kind might just manage to accomplish it.

“At last, we are alone,” said Saul, a smug glint in his pale-blue gaze.

The dude didn’t look good. Not at all. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes. His face was pallid and gaunt. His dark-blond hair was dull and unkempt. It didn’t look like he’d shaved in a while. And his clothes were dirty and wrinkled, as if he hadn’t changed in days.

“I do not believe we have ever had a conversation before now, have we?” he asked.

She’d seen him a few times at Aeon over the years but, no, they hadn’t once spoken. “You never seemed to show any interest in mortals.” As if, to him, they were beneath his notice. Many Aeons appeared to feel that way.

“You are all fairly boring, really. Easy to read. Easy to predict.” He paused. “Even easier to kill.”

“Not all of us.”

“If you think I would struggle to snuff out your life, you are very much mistaken.”

Maybe. “I thought that you Aeons don’t want me dead. I can’t otherwise lift the curse I placed on your land, can I?”

“I no longer care about the curse. The land can perish for all I care. But I will avenge my sister’s death.” The sheer wrath in his voice seemed to scrape at her skin.

She hadn’t expected him to declare an intention to kill her, all things considered, but maybe she should have. A highly vengeful creature herself, Wynter could understand how such a dark craving for justice could hound a person even to a point where they would commit an act that turned their own people against them.

“Even if you do manage to kill me,” she began, “it won’t be something you get away with. Deities don’t take it too well when someone targets their Favored.”

Cain, too, would freak. He was probably searching for her right now, since Anabel would surely have alerted people to her disappearance. The news would have quickly reached him.

Saul threw her a look of incredulity. “You do not think that I truly believe you are Favored by Kali, do you?” He snickered. “I have come across a few revenants during the very long life I have lived, so I can be quite sure that you are not one.”

Wynter didn’t correct him. If he wanted to underestimate her and ignore her warnings, that was on him. And it would make it more fun when she proved him wrong. Small pleasures and all that jazz.

“I could have taken you a little further away from here, but no. I am going to kill you right in this very spot. Your blood will soak the ground. Your death will leave a mark on this place. And your body will be left for Cain to find.” Saul grinned. “I have been hanging around Devil’s Cradle long enough to hear that you are his new plaything.”

Wynter narrowed her eyes. He’d been hanging around awhile, huh? That explained why he was in such an unkempt state.

“He will not like that I have broken his toy. Just as I did not like it when he took my sister’s life.” Saul pointed a finger at her. “You are as much responsible for Lailah’s death as he is. You cursed Aeon. You ran here, dragging others into your mess. You forced us to come here to take you back.”

“Whoa, I didn’t force anyone to do anything. You chose to start a war, despite that you had other options. Lailah died because you all made the mistake of launching an attack on the Ancients and their home—that’s not on me.”

He snarled. “They shouldn’t even be alive. They should have been slaughtered long ago.”

“They should have slaughtered each other, you mean. That’s what you figured would happen when you helped cage them, right? You thought they’d turn on each other.”

Surprise rippled across his face. “Cage?”

“Not going to play dumb, are you? I know that the Ancients aren’t here by choice.” Cain had trusted her with that little titbit. “I know that you, Lailah, Abel, and Adam dumped them here and surrounded the place in an invisible shield they cannot break—a shield that’s reinforced by the Ancients’ blood. I also know that the deaths of you, your sister, Adam, and Abel would destroy that cage.” One down, three to go.

“And you think that would be a good thing?” Saul gave a fast shake of the head. “There is a reason we imprisoned them, and it was not simply to be cruel—though, yes, we found some satisfaction in it. The reality is that it is best for the world at large that they remain contained. Surely you have heard enough about them to know that it is necessary.”

She inwardly sighed. The Aeons were so very fond of tossing mud at the Ancients, accusing them of this and that. They even claimed that the Ancients had sold their souls to Satan—a rumor that many people believed, since the seven beings possessed the ability to grant a person their heart’s desire in exchange for their soul.

The Aeons had no such ability. The two camps of immortals were similar in several ways, though. They all lived underground, boasted impressive abilities, could Rest for centuries at a time, rarely ventured out during daylight, and had somehow lost the ability to procreate.

Did it bug Wynter that she was sleeping with a guy who might well have struck a deal with Satan? Maybe it should, but she wasn’t really in a position to judge. She’d made a bargain with a deity in a moment of rage and desperation. Kali wasn’t the ruler of hell, true, but She was no innocent either. Wynter hadn’t cared. She hadn’t cared how much destruction the monster would cause. She’d just wanted vengeance.

A taunting smirk curved Saul’s mouth. “You have no clue what you let fuck you.”

“Maybe I do.”

Saul shook his head, snorting. “If you knew what Cain was, you would never have let him touch you. You certainly would not have run to him for protection. And if you had not done such a thing, my sister would still be alive.”

Back to that again, were they? “I warned her that there would be consequences if she exiled me. She didn’t listen. That’s hardly my fault.”

Saul fisted his hands in anger, and the flickering ball in his hand fizzled out.

Finally.

He growled. “Do not try pinning the blame on her. It belongs to you and Cain. He will pay, but you will pay first. I am going to enjoy hurting you. I am going to enjoy butchering your body. And when I am done, I will . . .” He trailed off, frowning. Most likely because he’d noticed the black liquid ribbons wiggling across her eyeballs, signaling that her monster was ready to surface. His lips parted in surprise. “Not possible.”

“You sure about that?” she asked as yet more black tapers distorted her vision.

He was silent for a long moment. “Well, well, well.” He shrugged, unbothered. “Let it take over if you wish. I do not fear it. Kali’s little pets are bestial, feral entities who can kill with little to no effort, yes, but they would never escape such a net.”

Wynter smiled. “Who says I host one of her pets?”

Her world went black as her monster lunged.

Wynter’s body jolted as she came back to herself. She was still in the woods, but she was now alone. Saul was gone.

She glanced around, taking in the blood spatter on the soil and the bits of flesh here and there. Her monster tended to make a mess. Crimson stains also dotted her skin, hair, and clothes. Awesome.

She had no open seeping wounds, so the blood evidently wasn’t hers. She did sport a few scorch marks, making her think of the flaming hot orb that Saul had conjured. Although her monster had its own form, its injuries became hers when she resurfaced after a shift. Unfortunately.

There was nothing to indicate that her monster had dined on Saul, or that he was dead. No dismembered body parts or pools of blood were anywhere to be seen. He was injured for sure, though. Her guess? He’d escaped through a whirlwind thingy. Shame.

She’d thought that he’d stand his ground and fight, being a powerful Aeon and all. Maybe it was sheer surprise that made him flee. Her monster had that effect on people.

Her coven members hadn’t run from it, but they all had a mile-wide streak of crazy, so she figured they didn’t count. They were careful never to get close to it, though. One, because the monster had no loyalties. Two, because the shift back to Wynter’s usual form was so explosive that every bit of gore from the monster’s body exploded outward . . . drenching the people closest, and then rebounded back onto Wynter. Hence the current state she was in.

Blowing out a breath, Wynter began traipsing through the woods. As she’d made a point of learning every inch of the land, she knew her way around well enough, so the hazy shadows weren’t an impediment.

She stayed on high alert as she walked, conscious that Saul could return to her and that there might be more Aeons lingering about the town. The latter seemed unlikely, since he’d attacked her alone, but still.

Hearing a squawk, she looked up to see a familiar crow flying among the treetops. Hattie was a member of Wynter’s coven who possessed the ability to take on the form of a crow.

Hovering high above Wynter, the bird squawked loudly, as if straining to get somebody’s attention. And then Cain was there in a blur of movement. Jesus, Wynter hadn’t known he could move that fast.

He towered over her, tall and lean and so very, very male. Like a supreme athlete at the top of his prime. Her hormones tended to get dizzy around him. He was just so cool and dauntless and incredibly self-possessed. Then there was that sexy apex-predator-rawness he boasted.

Also, Cain was an absolute joy to ogle. Seriously, his appearance was faultless. Yet not off-putting in its perfection. Enviable bone structure. Symmetrical features. A full, ridiculously sexy mouth. She’d never seen hair quite so black. She herself had black hair, but his . . . the pigmentation seemed to be richer, deeper, darker.

As he stood before her, his hooded, lustrous black eyes drank in her appearance and flared dangerously. There was something very serpent-like about his gaze. It was just so focused. So piercing. So intense. There were times it also seemed so very empty that she could almost believe it was true that he had no soul as some claimed. But other times, when a smile lit his eyes or when anger rippled across his features much as it was doing right now, she would have to disagree with that theory.

“It’s not my blood,” she quickly assured him, but he didn’t seem mollified.

Cain planted his hands on her upper arms. “Who took you?” he demanded in that deep, rumbly, authoritative voice that could wield dirty talk like a sexual weapon.

“Saul.”

The crow landed on the ground and then morphed into Hattie. Unlike shifters, she didn’t need to lose her clothes when changing shape, because it was magick that caused the shift. Padding toward them, the sweet old woman tucked a loose strand of her faded red hair behind her ear. “Saul as in the Aeon?”

“Yeah, that Saul,” replied Wynter.

“Well, fuck me up the a—”

“Hattie, you promised you’d stop using that phrase.”

“But it has such a nice ring to it, and my favorite book character uses it all the time.”

Cain’s jaw hardened as he examined a wound on Wynter’s arm. “He burned you.” The words were soft. Low. Eerily calm.

The hairs on her nape rose. “He meant to kill me, but my monster interfered. I don’t know exactly what happened after that. There must have been some kind of scuffle. I don’t think he’s dead. It seems like he got away.”

A growl scraped at the back of Cain’s throat.

“Dumb bastard should never have come here,” said Hattie. “He signed his death warrant the moment he considered it.”

She had that right.

A huge-ass black feline came rushing through the trees, her iron claws raking at the ground, and quickly shifted into Delilah. Like Hattie, she was fully dressed since it was magick that caused the change. An angry flush staining her olive skin, the Latina stalked toward Wynter. “What in the seven circles of hell just happened?”

Wynter relayed the details to her, adding, “I saw Saul before he attacked me. Or, at least, I saw his reflection in the glass refrigerator door at the convenience store. It seemed like he was behind me. And yet he wasn’t. He laughed, and then his image faded.” She looked to Cain for an answer.

“He has an ability that works similar to scrying,” Cain explained, his voice clipped. “Using water as a medium, he can search for people or objects, but he can only locate them if he’s reasonably close to them, and he’ll only see them if they’re near a reflective surface. Think of it as someone peering through the windows of a house from the outside. Unless the people within the house are in view of a window, they won’t be seen.”

Even with the limitations, the ability was impressive. “He said he’s been hanging around the town.”

Delilah frowned. “Surely he’d have been noticed.”

“Saul is capable of slinking around unseen like a ghost,” Cain reluctantly conceded.

Just then, Xavier and Anabel came running into view.

“Didn’t I tell you that death was lurking around?” Anabel blurted out, glaring at Wynter. “’Cause I’m pretty sure that’s what I said. You never listen. Then you always seem so surprised when you almost die.” She all but plonked a vial into Wynter’s hand, sniffing at the thanks she received.

“What happened?” demanded Xavier as Wynter downed the healing brew. “Anabel said it was like the wind just took you.”

After Wynter had brought the rest of her coven up to speed, Cain said, “I’ll have people search Devil’s Cradle for signs of Aeons. I didn’t think that any would be stupid enough to risk staying close to the town, but I was apparently wrong.”

“I don’t think he’s in his right mind,” said Wynter. “Or that there are other Aeons with him. Unlike the rest of them, he wants me dead. He was set on killing me on your territory. He wanted my blood to soak the ground. That mattered more to him than his own safety, and even the state of his homeland.”

“Grief does things to people,” said Hattie. “He’ll be finding the death of his sister hard to take. Aeons have been around for millennia. Think how much closer Lailah and Saul would have been compared to mortal siblings.”

Wynter nodded. The two Aeons would have been at each other’s side while eras came and went. They would have made so many memories together. But their bond was now broken. He’d surely be feeling lost, if nothing else.

Wynter looked at Cain. “When you put out a description, you should mention that he didn’t look good. He was all scruffy. His face was gaunt, and he seemed tired. I got the feeling he’s been sleeping outside for days. Maybe even weeks. He’s not interested in caring for himself, only in avenging his sister.”

“There’s probably a little guilt there at work,” hedged Xavier. “He was right beside her when she died. He might feel that he should have saved her. Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about guilt, but I’ve heard it messes with one’s head.”

Delilah let out a soft snort. “Yeah, we noticed you’re deficient in that emotion.”

His brow winged up. “And you’re much better in that department?”

“Depends what mood I’m in,” Delilah told him.

“Back to the matter at hand,” Wynter cut in. “If Saul does feel any guilt, he’s not acknowledging it. He’s focusing all his emotional energy on me and Cain. He wants us to pay.”

“He won’t get what he wants.” Cain palmed her nape and tugged her closer. “Come on, let’s head back. I don’t want you out in the open any longer.”

*

Rage compressing his chest and raking at his gut like claws, Cain drew in a breath through his nose. Only her. Only Wynter had this level of power over his emotions.

Before she came into his life, things rarely touched him on an emotional level. It had only gotten worse when the numbness that often plagued immortals had settled over him like a cloak. She’d pierced that numbness. The single fissure she’d made had soon become a spiderweb of cracks. It hadn’t been long before the sense of detachment had completely lost its hold on him.

Once upon a time, his anger came and went in a hot flash. Now? It was a rattle in his bones. A bubbling in his blood. A pounding in his ears.

That motherfucker Saul would suffer a slow, agonizing death.

Cain would have people hunt him. There would be nothing simple about tracking this particular Aeon—Saul knew how to evade detection. But he would be found. He wouldn’t again lay a finger on Wynter.

It didn’t bring Cain any comfort that she couldn’t be killed permanently, because he couldn’t be sure that it would stay that way. Kali apparently had a purpose for Wynter—something which unnerved him, because She wasn’t a deity that typically had constructive agendas—but She could at any time change her mind, or tire so much of sending Wynter’s soul back from the netherworld that She decided to choose another witch to fulfil Her goals.

He wasn’t sure what exactly those goals were, only that they were apparently similar to his own. The deity hadn’t deigned to elaborate further. She’d told him that he’d find out in due course during their brief conversation when She’d possessed Wynter’s body. His jaw clenched at the memory.

The rest of the Bloodrose coven seemed to find it a comfort that a deity watched over their Priestess. While Cain liked that said deity protected her, he didn’t like that Kali considered Wynter to be more Hers than his.

Glancing down at her, he noticed that her sharp quicksilver eyes kept a close watch on their surroundings. Slender and supple, she walked with a catlike, stealthy, predatory grace. So steady. So self-assured. So at ease in her own skin.

His little witch could come across as harmless when it suited her. She’d put on such an act the first time they’d met. For him, she hadn’t seemed to fit the assertive role of Priestess, but he’d nonetheless sensed that he would be a fool to underestimate her or dismiss her as a threat.

He’d been right.

It wasn’t simply the monster she hosted that made her so dangerous. With her innate fierceness, combat training, rock-steady nerves, and the powerful magick that hummed around her like an aura, Wynter Dellavale was a danger all by herself.

She was also absolutely fucking stunning. Those thickly lashed eyes were as striking as they were unique. He loved to stare into them as he moved in and out of her.

He’d memorized every inch of her body. Had traced every part of her from her sharp cheekbones to her slender feet. Had raked his teeth over all that bitable flesh again and again—particularly her heavy lower lip. He fucking adored her mouth; enjoyed using it as he pleased while fisting her sleek, long hair that hung down her back like black rain.

For Cain, her magick—so strong and deadly, smelling of jasmine and black pepper—was a draw all on its own. He knew darkness. Understood it. Was compelled by it.

Until Wynter, it had been a long time since he’d truly wanted something. He hadn’t expected that the want would become a need. Or that he would come to crave her with an intensity that was as ferocious as it was shocking.

No other woman had ever gotten to him so deeply—not on any level. But then, there was no one else like her. In all the eons that he’d been alive, he had never once met anyone who he could call even remotely similar to Wynter.

She enticed him. Surprised him. Incited him. Bewitched him, even—no pun intended.

The secrets between them thankfully didn’t act as a barrier. Probably because they both nonetheless accepted each other and could relate to how difficult the other found it to keep such secrets. It meant that there was no resentment on either side. It allowed them to build something.

Their relationship might be new, but it wasn’t shallow or fragile. Nor was it something he took lightly. Cain had every intention of ensuring it became permanent. He had enough worldly experience to know that this thing they had could grow into something solid and true and unbreakable.

He refused to go back to a time when his life didn’t have her in it. That meant two things. One, he needed to wipe Saul from the face of the Earth before the Aeon could ever again get near her. Two, Cain couldn’t share his secrets with her until he was absolutely sure that they wouldn’t push her away, including the existence of his inner creature.

She wasn’t the only one who carried a monster inside her.

Cain knew his time was limited. His creature—who was currently flipping its shit over the Saul situation—was tiring of her being ignorant of its existence. It wanted her acknowledgement. More, it wanted her acceptance. And, utterly lacking in self-awareness, it saw no reason why she wouldn’t accept it. But, in truth, asking that of her would be no small thing.

Was it unfair that Cain wanted to wait until he felt she was too committed to him to be scared away before he revealed all? Maybe. But he couldn’t physically pursue her if she fled. He was trapped in Devil’s Cradle, so he’d have to send others to bring her back to him. And he was pretty certain she’d kill them all.

He needed to somehow bind her to him. The problem was that Wynter Dellavale wasn’t a woman you could truly own. She was too much her own person.

Wynter would only ever belong to a man if she allowed it. But Cain wouldn’t rest until she was his on every level. He’d find a way to own the un-own-able.

Right then, he wanted to take her to his Keep. He wanted to clean and feed and have some alone-time with her. Maybe then he could breathe without tasting anger—it sat on his tongue like ash.

No one spoke as he, Wynter, and her coven left the woods and stalked through the town to the stately manor that he and the other Ancients used as a base to do business such as interview visitors. The manor also concealed the entrance to the underground city.

They walked through the tall black gates and into the Old World manor. In the hallway, they opened the door that led to an elevator that was constructed of floor-to-ceiling glass. Moments later, they were descending the elevator shaft. Once free of it, Cain looked down and took in the modernized medieval city below. It was vast with its cottages, towers, timber-framed houses, rustic dwellings, taverns, shops, large park, and Venice-style canals.

In the distance were mounds, caverns, rivers, and forests. One of said forests concealed the large arena that they used mainly for entertainment purposes.

There were also the seven Keeps that were sporadically placed around the city—each was occupied by an Ancient. Above it all, aqua-blue stalactites hung from the cavernous ceiling.

He’d often been told by residents that it was easy to forget they were beneath ground. The artificial lighting could simulate both daylight and moonlight. There were also artificial breezes and sound effects such as birds singing, crickets chirping, and thunder rumbling. All of which was powered by the Ancients.

Due to the late hour, the streets weren’t busy, though crowds congregated outside the eateries and taverns. Two people were currently riding horseback around the park while others rowed canal boats.

The elevator slowed as it descended into a stone tower. The doors soon slid open, and then the entire group filed out of the elevator and exited the tower. A short walk later, they neared the street on which Wynter and her coven lived—all of whom were currently discussing what Hattie should wear for her date tomorrow evening.

That was the thing about the Bloodrose Coven. Nothing fazed them for long. Or maybe they were simply too used to having people try to kill them that it had little effect on them these days, because they never did more than briefly rant about the incident before quickly moving on to other things.

Cain took Wynter’s wrist when she would have headed down the street toward her cottage. “Come home with me.” It came out as more of a command than a request, so he wasn’t surprised by the raised eyebrow she shot him. Fortunately for him, she made allowances for how—after eons of being in charge—he was used to issuing orders.

“I need to shower,” she pointed out.

“Some of your clothes are at my Keep.” He’d pushed for her to leave some of her items at his bedchamber. It had seemed stupid for her not to when she slept there every night.

“Go,” shooed Hattie, flapping her hands at Wynter. “Let your man take care of you. You both need it.”

“Let him sex you up too,” said Delilah. “There’s no better stress reliever than sex.”

Xavier lightly squeezed Wynter’s shoulder. “Pure truth.”

“I only deal in the truth,” Delilah told him. “Unlike you, dear pathological liar.”

The male witch opened his mouth to argue, but Anabel quickly cut in, “If you deny it, you’ll only prove her point. Now let’s go, I have potions to brew.”

Goodbyes were exchanged, and then Wynter allowed Cain to lead her to his Keep. Walking through the arched opening in the stark walls that surrounded his home, he found that the bailey was mostly empty, since the workshops, bakehouse, brewery, and blacksmith’s shop were closed.

A few people stood near the stables and barns, talking amongst themselves. Cain and Wynter briefly greeted them as they strode through the courtyard toward the black, stone Keep. The tall, cylindrical building might have looked dull if it wasn’t for the faint shimmer of the magick that was embedded in the stone. The stained-glass windows of various sizes also gave it a “lift.”

The guards that were posted outside the entrance bowed their heads at Cain. He tipped his chin their way and then shepherded Wynter through the Keep’s thick wooden doors. Maxim, one of his aides, appeared. Like Cain’s other hirelings, the male lived at the Keep.

Maxim noted the blood on Wynter’s clothing and shot her a worried look.

“She’s fine,” Cain assured him, knowing that the gargoyle had developed a fondness for Wynter. “But we have a problem.” He told him of the Saul situation. “Have a search party sent out. I want him found. And make the other Ancients aware of the situation.”

Maxim gave a nod. “It’s done, Sire.” He tipped his chin at Wynter and then stalked off.

Cain gently squeezed her hand. “Come on.”

He led her through the arched hallways, where the old and the new fused together with the imperial staircases, carved columns, state-of-the-art features, and domed, frescoed ceilings.

Anyone who took in his collection of artwork would sense that he liked to collect rare objects—whether they be books or paintings or sculptures. It was part of why he’d been so fascinated by Wynter right from the start. She was a singular creature. Plus, he’d never before had partial rights to an undead soul. That had made him more eager to collect her.

Inside his bedchamber, he flicked a hand and sent out a small wave of power, lighting the many candles. The small flames danced, casting light and shadows over the tapestries, heavy drapes, and furnishings.

He wished it would take a mere flick of his hand to capture Saul. But the male was a being whose power almost matched Cain’s. Almost. That would be the bastard’s downfall.

After they showered, Wynter slipped on one of his tees at his request—he liked the look of her in his clothes. Perching herself on the edge of the four-poster bed, she watched Cain closely. He loved how she so boldly held his gaze—no nervousness, no fear, no submissiveness.

He even loved when she fixed him with her trademark hunter stare that told him she’d pounce if he ever proved a threat. It never failed to stir his blood . . . which was probably perverse, but he gave no fucks.

Cain found his gaze dipping to the arm that had earlier sported an ugly burn. “Saul’s going to suffer in ways he didn’t know it was possible to suffer.”

“I don’t suppose reminding you that I’m okay will be enough to calm you,” she said.

“You suppose correctly.” Not bothering to pull on any clothes, he moved to stand in front of her and planted his feet. “Run through the incident again. I want every detail this time. Miss nothing out.”

“That’s not gonna help you shake off your mad.”

“Every detail,” he reiterated. “And stop looking at my cock—you won’t distract me with sex, so don’t bother trying.”

Sighing, she folded her arms. “Okay, fine.”

Cain listened as she elaborated on her earlier story. His monster narrowed its eyes when she spoke of how Saul told her she never would have let Cain touch her if she knew what he was. The most annoying thing about that was . . . “He’s probably not wrong.”

“I’ve told you before that I don’t spook easily. But hey, there’s only one way you’re ever going to know for sure if I can handle it.” You’ll have to tell me, she didn’t add but he heard.

He accepted that with a nod. “I need more time.” More specifically, he needed her to feel that she couldn’t be without him. “Then what happened?”

“Not much. I pointed out that I’d warned Lailah there’d be consequences to her exiling me. He got pissed that I suggested she had some hand in her own demise, and then he started ranting about how he’d make you and me pay; that he’d enjoy hurting me. And then my monster surfaced. By the time it retreated, he was gone.”

Cain flexed his fists. “He shouldn’t have touched you. I already had plenty of reason to loathe him, given he helped build this cage and almost killed Seth during the war many years ago. Still, I might not have planned to drag Saul’s death out too long if he hadn’t tried to take you from me.”

“In his mind, he’d have merely pissed you off a little. He thinks I’m your toy.”

“You are.”

She barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“When we’re in bed, yes, you often are.” Cain took her hands, pulled her to her feet, and drew her close. “You are many, many things to me, Wynter.”

But he was greedy for more than what they had. Greedy for everything. Which made him remember . . . “I told you this morning that I had something to run by you.” They had been interrupted by one of his aides, so they had agreed to table the discussion.

Humming, she slid her hands up his chest. “Yeah, I remember. So what is it?”

The simple feel of her fingers splayed on his bare skin was enough to make his cock twitch, but he wouldn’t do anything about that yet. The conversation they needed to have was too important. He cuffed her wrists to ensure her hands didn’t wander any further and said, “I want you to agree to be my consort.”

She squinted, wary. “And what would that mean for me? The word ‘consort’ carries a different definition depending on what preternatural race we’re talking about. And I was under the impression that Ancients generally don’t take people as their consort.”

“It is the truth. Lilith was the only exception, though her consort died long ago. To my kind, consorts aren’t simple companions who share our bed. Although they don’t rule alongside us, they’re our equal, our partner, our mate.”

“So this is no small deal for you.”

“No small deal. That’s why it’s rare for my kind to go down this path.” He palmed her neck. “You’re already mine, but I want us to make it official. I want this relationship locked down. Tight.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Cain, there’s still a lot that we don’t know about each other.”

“Which is why this is the perfect time for us to do this.” With his thumb, he tugged her lip free of her teeth. “We’d be effectively saying that, despite knowing we may later learn things about each other that won’t be easy to accept, we still want to take this jump; we’re still one hundred percent committed to each other.” He needed this from her. His creature needed it.

“It’s not that I don’t want that—”

“Then agree.”

“You’ll want other stuff if I do. Like for me to move into your Keep. I can’t yet. Not until I feel that my coven is fully settled here.”

He’d already anticipated that she’d make such a point. “If you think I won’t respect that, you’re mistaken. I’m aware that they need you close for a while. I’d never interfere with the responsibilities you have as a Priestess. I’m proud of who and what you are.” He dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “We can hold off on you moving in here for now. So long as you continue to sleep in my bed each night and be here each morning when I wake.”

“And I wouldn’t be expected to, you know, develop airs and graces all of a sudden, right? To become some sort of pretty ornament that arranges fancy parties and all that boring jazz?”

“I’d only ever want you to be you. The fierce, loyal, vengeful woman who put a curse on my cock so that it would wither and decay if I betrayed her.”

A delightful, embarrassed blush heated her cheeks. “I still don’t understand why that makes you smile.” She shook her head fast, as if trying to dislodge the memory of what she’d done from her mind. “So what you’re saying is that nothing would really change if I agreed to be your consort? We’d simply be cementing what we are to each other?”

“Exactly.” He pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Say yes.”

She melted into him as he trailed kisses along her neck. “You’re making it hard for me to think.”

“Good. You don’t need to think. You just need to agree. Say. Yes.”

She gasped as he sent out a light wave of power that vibrated against her skin, making it break out into a shiver. “Keep doing that and I’ll definitely say yes.”

He lightly nipped her pulse and then lifted his head. “I’m not above using sex to coerce you to agree, but I’d rather I didn’t have to.” He brushed her nose with his. “Say yes, Wynter.”

A smile lit her eyes. “Yes.” The word was low and soft yet a solid vow all the same.

Satisfaction curved his mouth. “That’s my girl.”

“You should totally reward me. Like right now. With orgasms.”

“Hmm, I don’t see why not.” So he did exactly that.