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“Open your eyes, Wynter.” He stroked her hair and nuzzled her neck, silently swearing to himself that he’d find some way to get to the netherworld and drag her back if she didn’t wake.
His mind cast back to when she’d earlier stood in the manor’s foyer, primly informing him that she wouldn’t stay behind. Cain had been torn between wanting to shake her and wanting to fuck her—the battle-thirsty look of hers never failed to make his cock twitch.
His monster was similarly affected. It had longed to bite her. Hard. It wanted to do the same thing right now, as if the act would somehow bring her back.
Cain’s muscles bunched as his connection to her soul abruptly snapped back to its normal state . . . as if it had never faded at all. Her eyelids then fluttered open, and a relieved breath slid through his gritted teeth. Thank fuck.
As she let out a weak moan, he held her closer. “Shh, I’ve got you.” There was nothing soothing about his voice right then; it was as jagged as a serrated blade.
Wynter blinked hard, looking dazed and drained. “God, I hate dying.”
He nuzzled her hair. “I hate it when you die.”
She looked around, noted where she was, and quickly took stock of him. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m not the one whose heart stopped beating.”
“Are you okay?”
He grunted. “Fine.” He’d suffered minor wounds, courtesy of the shades, but they’d healed already.
“Everyone else okay?”
“Yes.” Most likely. He hadn’t cared to check. “You weren’t, though. That’s twice now I’ve watched you die.”
She stroked her finger down the spot between his brows, as if trying to smooth away a line. “I won’t try to comfort or placate you, because I know if the situation was reversed, there wouldn’t be one thing you could say that would make me feel better right now.” She sat up straighter. “I’m guessing it was Saul who hit me with that sphere thing.”
“It was.” And the fact that the blow had killed her confirmed what Cain had already suspected—a single strike from an Aeon could in fact take her out. But not permanently, it would seem. He’d never been more thankful of anything in his very long existence.
“Please tell me he’s dead.”
Cain wished he could. “I badly injured him, but there’s a possibility he’ll recover. He vanished before anyone could land a second blow on him. No one had noticed that he’d come out of hiding until you were hit.”
Her face scrunched up. “That goddamn sphere hurt like hell. Well, at least I now know that an Aeon can’t kill me for real. It was almost worth the pain just to know for sure.”
Cain growled.
“I said ‘almost.’” She rubbed at her head and then grimaced. “I have blood in my hair, don’t I?”
“Not just in your hair.” Blood spatter decorated her clothes and skin. Crimson stains surrounded tears in her clothes. “All your wounds are gone,” he realized.
She shrugged. “I always wake up healed after I die.”
But she wouldn’t have woken at all if she hadn’t been a revenant. He’d have lost her for good. The thought was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
“I need a shower,” she said. “So do you. You got blood on you, too.”
“I know. But I need to hold you a little longer. Give me that.”
She didn’t object. She settled against him, stroking his chest. He splayed his hand on her throat, needing to feel the beat of her pulse.
It was a while before he felt able to let her go, but he didn’t move far from her side. They showered together in silence, each tending to the other. Watching her blood slide down the drain, Cain felt his jaw tighten. He’d never forget the feel of her lying dead in his arms. Not ever.
Saul had planned his attack well. He’d barely lifted a physical finger, even at the start. He’d hidden behind shades right up until the moment that Wynter appeared.
Cain realized now that Saul had only aimed to keep Cain and Azazel occupied while he waited for her. The Aeon had wanted both her and Cain to be in the line of fire. And then he’d used the shades to keep everyone busy, tire them out, and ensure that Wynter and Cain remained separated.
Then he’d come out of his hidey hole and struck.
